cyanidehog · 2 years ago
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Hello! Could I request some yandere Silver the hedgehog headcanons? If not that’s okay, I totally understand. Have a good day!
BLOG'S 1ST request is for my favorite boy <333 thank you for kickstarting off my writing with this ! no spellchecking we die like (redacted)
⤷ “ i swear to you. as long as i’m by your side, you’ll never be harmed. ” [ ♡ 1.2k words -- SILVER + READER. ]
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> first of all: worst hedgehog to have after you. he literally jumps through time. whether you are a civilian or an overpowered entity, you're screwed. not in a physical sense—he values your freedom and your dignity. it's just... you won't be able to avoid his advances. silver knows you better than you do yourself. after years of studying you, he'll have figured what makes you snap, what makes you melt, and the little intricacies that weave your past. then he'll drop himself back to a point in time where your relationship was still amicable and he'll sweep you up with a winner smile, using up every detail he soaked up in conversation about your person as a stepping stone.
> how you met is inconsequential. it could've been simple happenstance aided by your curiosity, or thanks to amy introducing you at an event. whatever the reason, you come to know of silver's plights and circumstances.
> silver latches onto you with a hunger because of your care and interest in his well-being. it's not that people aren't welcoming, or haven't been kind to him and blaze, of course not. there's been warmth aplenty in sonic's timeline. what sets you apart are the extra lengths you go to for his accommodation in a world alien to him and the love you display in different gestures: cooking him a sprawling dinner (a banquet of cultures, really!) or tidying up a place for him to crash at if need be; spending hours explaining history and the current state of affairs to a being completely removed from the context of modern society and common knowledge; finding time in your schedule to go places together and make albums of memories... the list could go on. you really tried your best for your friend - silver who'd never seen a tree or a valley or a flower... how could you not?
> you won't ever have fights with him. it's surreal and fantastical. he always, always has a hand in guiding you to a pleasant time. attentive and sweet and teasing, silver knows how to rile you up into feverish delight and how to soothe any nerves and doubts of yours. it's slightly unfair, actually, because at times you wish you could have the same tact and coolness he displays. whenever you express the want to make him happy he gets touchier and more joyful than usual, so you count that as a little win of yours. it is nice to brighten the day of someone who treats you fondly. and the tiny, furiously wagging tail is an endearing sight.
> your like or dislike for physical touch will define how he starts showing affection to you. if you're fine with it, silver won't hesitate to caress your back or shoulder, will lock arms with you on walks, and say goodbye with a peck to your temple. warm and strong hugs will be commonplace. you'll find yourself encased in embraces far too tender and embarrassing to remain cool-headed. and the average distance between you two will shrink every week. slowly but surely.
> if you are averse to it, he'll do his best to keep his hands to himself… though if you fall asleep in his vicinity, he'll slide a hand or two through your face and play a little with your features. it will be innocent enough to sate his need for your warmth. for a while. he'll get into the habit of playing with your fingers or tugging your clothes for attention. might develop a fondness for spaces full of people, if only to feel you leaning on him thanks to the moving multitudes. he'll also steal trinkets or inconspicuous articles of clothing that belong to you. he won't realize it, but not having your touch will starve him terribly, and he'll try to have his fill in other ways.
> you call him silvie and he's about to bust an aneurysm. his face catches on fire to the point he thinks it might be a heatstroke, and the real possibility of him fainting grows exponentially. he gives you a very personal nickname. some inside joke between the two of you. will whisper it only when you are both alone.
> he's devoted? dedicated? invested? in your friendships and emotional health. scratch that. like rotisserie chicken, his brain rotates worries about your daily life and physical and mental health to the point of burning itself to a crisp. he fears not having control over your joys. he gets literally sick ruminating on whether or not you are getting your due sleep, your due rewards, or your deserved love from those around you. he'll be a smidge too sharp on picking up changes in your mood and mentions of acquaintances and buddies and family. he probably has a journal with graphical maps on your relationships and other miscellanea. has filled up the margins with ideas on how to cheer you up and keep everything in check. whatever that means, or entails.
> HAHA if you get sick? if you get sick you'll sooner perish from silver's overwhelming presence by your side than from your illness. it's here that his obsession bleeds through enough to be alerted by. he gets super fussy over who's coming over and what you're eating. feels like it's his duty to schedule your time indoors and outdoors, and to make several lists of activities and meals and exercises for your speedy recovery. will have restocked your pantry and fridge with your favorite snacks and fruits before you know it (how did you know this is my fave, silvie? to which he replies: oh - isn't this what besties are for?) and areas such as the bathroom or your kitchen will be cleaned thrice as fervently. he's going to be around so often that you'll stumble across his toothbrush or his towel neatly organized along with your stuff. and yes he will give a subtle nudge towards the idea of being roomies, and having sleepovers, and movie nights, and so on. he won't be moving his stuff out even after you recover.
> anyway - silver is a protective, obsessive, manipulative and insidious yandere. your needs will most certainly be met when he's around and he'll try to elevate you into a lil pedestal while trying to improve your lifestyle in ways he thinks are the best. you won't have to worry about threats (eggman's or others') because he'll make sure you live in a peaceful and beautiful world. if he ever has to travel to accomplish this he'll make sure to return with a plethora of gifts and stories to share. but he'll worm and dig and root his way through your barriers and reservations until you rely on him, to some degree or other. he'll be... soft and good for you.
> and... you'll never have to know about all the screw ups in a different timeline. if silver has committed a chain of overlapping atrocities trying to monopolize your affection, how would you ever find out? you'll never know the depravities he has executed on others, nor the kind of abnormality he is a slave to. he'll always be just silver to you.
> so please, please, please. don't look at anybody else with tender love in your eyes. don't break his heart and make him crawl on his knees. don't make him screw the world over for a few crumbs of your time, and everything will be just perfect.
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yanderenightmare · 3 months ago
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All For One
TW: nsfw, noncon, yandere, captive reader, mind deterioration
fem reader
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All For One has a habit of subjugating you for his own pleasure. 
It’s a game he likes to play—quite like chess, only… you start off with a single pawn, and you don’t know any of the rules. And he’s been world champion ten years in a row. And he plays dirty.
Tonight, he’s dressed you up in a costume. Not any old Halloween costume, but a slutty one. Not a playboy bunny or a maid, nor a schoolgirl—this was worse—a sleazy rendition of your old hero uniform.
You’d barely recognized the faintly familiar design when he first laid it out on the bed for you. Silly and naïve, you thought his games of derision would end when you finally offered your submission, but that was a fool’s thought. What fun were you if not proof of his undying victory—a reminder, a trophy, a relic?
It’s beyond degrading. Tight and revealing. Less than an actual costume, it was more something one would wear in the bedroom, cosplaying for some fantasy starring an overly sexualized you. Only God knows where he’d gotten it from.
Your steel armor, once with the dignity of a knight, had instead been swapped out for a silly silver bikini—the shimmery fabric tacky and cheap, allowing your nipples to peak forth. Covering it was a top and a skirt made up of silver chains, which only further mocked the appearance of chainmail—looking more like the jewelry a stripper might wear.
He’d forgone your helmet, boots, and sword entirely. Truly, if it weren’t for the detailing of the pattern making the fabric vaguely resemble plated armor, it wouldn’t have been much different from any other set of lingerie.
And still, it’s just similar enough to make it sting.
“Look at you...” he jeers, his voice sodden with taunt—carmine stare faded and gleeful, thoroughly enjoying it. “What a sight for sore eyes.”
He stands behind you in the mirror, holding you delicately by the hips, intimately close, dressed in another one of his black suits, fully clothed in devastating contrast to you. His smile curls as he roams your ill-covered body, kissed with the flush of chagrin, leering at you in the reflection—his voice slithering right by your ear.
“Though I can’t say I remember it being quite so revealing, can you?” he jokes, running his hands up and down your waist, fiddling some with the intricacies—metal daintily clinking and clangoring. “No, there’s something else that’s different...”
You feel so humiliated, so small—as if he could hold you up by the scruff of your neck with ease. It isn’t just a feeling—you’re well aware that he most likely could.
“Why yes, of course…” he hums with delayed realization—you know he’s faking for anticipation, chittering while wrapping his thick arms around your tiny midsection, giving you a firm squeeze. “You’ve lost all muscle.”
It’s a painful truth. You don’t know how many months it’s been. Perhaps a year has passed already, maybe even more. He keeps you well aware of his triumph in the outside world, but time still eludes you.
You’d tried maintaining it in the beginning, even after he’d taken your quirk. You’d been vigilant, keeping up your workout regimens just as religiously as before. But you couldn’t pick what you ate, nor when—and he’d only feed you cake. It wasn’t long before all your hard-earned muscles had melted away like popsicle syrup off the stick, licked and lapped right up by the man holding you.
“Mmh, yes…” he murmurs gratingly while swaying you back against him, lips pressing against your ear. “And it’s left you oh-so-soft.”
His bulbous crotch slots against your upper ass, resting there as it grows fatter and warm—a sign of his enjoyment. The weight of him makes you feel all but paper-thin.
His voice rasps now. “If I were to give you your quirk back, I wager you wouldn’t even be able to use it anymore—it would sooner rip your poor limbs apart.”
It’s beyond cruel to suggest—as if disgracing your old costume wasn’t enough torment already. You bite your lip, gnaw it harshly—don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t let him see you cry.
“Isn’t that just fascinating?” He gives your earlobe a gentle bite, and the whimper in your throat springs free like prey out of hiding.
A sniffle shortly followed—along the dribble of the night’s very first tears. Your diminished spirit has made you all too prone to cry as if there’s nothing else for you to do but indulge in the small comfort it gives.
“Oh, sweetie—don’t weep over prowess long since lost. It was never enough to challenge me anyway,” he coos, as if consoling you—swaying your smaller brittle body back against his looming chest, a cage that seemed to swallow you whole.
Steering your jaw, he holds your face still before the mirror, unable to look away as the tears dribble down your sorry cheeks—he smears them further with a kiss.
“The world would chew you up as you are now, fragile like glass.” The grin curling his lips makes you resemble prey caught on a predator’s teeth—you can’t help but shiver at the sight of it. You wish he wouldn’t toy with you like food and just kill you already. “Mark my words, hero—the belly of the beast would not grant you as much comfort as I do.”
His other hand slips down to cup your mound—firmly, with a squeeze that has you curl yourself back against him as he presses two tough fingerpads into your clothed clit, rubbing it tightly enough to make your thighs shake.
“You’re better off like this,” he grunts, snickers at how your weak hands clutch the sleeve of his suit, curling the fabric in your palms until your knuckles whiten—watching the furrow further crease between your cinched brows as you try and bite back your pathetic little sounds even as more tears come tumbling down your swollen cheeks. “Mh, my pretty plaything.”
He makes you continue to look at yourself as he simply slides the panty to the side of your cunt. Encouraging you to place your hands flat against the mirror as he bends you forward, then to step back and stand atop his dress shoes.
“Don’t be shy now,” he makes sure to tell you. “You’re as light and negligible as a feather.”
He parts his feet and yours along with them, spreading your thighs enough to accommodate the fat heat he soon slides between them. Rigid and veiny, it competes with the size of your forearm—so thick that when he slaps it up against your slit, your knees buckle from the impact.
His chuckles rumble across your body like an earthquake. You only realize how much it makes you shake when he encloses your hip in his big hand, steadying you. Holding you still as he drags his engorged cockhead through your lips, catching your clit before resting on your entrance.
You’re so sore from prior nights—countless hours locked in this room with his visits the only thing keeping you company—everything has yet to forgive you for the wreckage those visits leave behind. Your sorry little puss rues and dreads another defeat now as he sinks inside the comfort of your battered walls, one unyielding inch at a time. 
You wince and tense, shoulders bracing, and yet he pushes deeper, sliding you down his shaft until you rest at the hilt of his base, kneading the tip into your gummy womb, giving it a deep kiss that bulges out from your poor belly.
The sight in the mirror is morbid, even more so than the feeling—the way he molds your insides to fit him, to cater and house his length and size. 
“Ah—just perfect, isn’t it, hero?” he purrs, chest resting heavily upon your spine while dwarfing both your hips in a firm grip, chin-stubble scraping along your neck as his voice comes out hot against your ear, “Obedience suits you so well, don’t you agree?”
Your knees buckle once he starts the heavy pace—slowly pounding into you from behind, dragging out and pushing deep in womb-robbing thrusts. You pant from the toll of it, feeling your muscles give—too tired and too broken to continue acting tough. He’s the only reason you’re left upright on your feet—keeping you standing with just his hold on your haunches. It seems like nothing to him, though it feels like the weight of the world to you.
“It’s only a shame it had to come with all these scars.” He clicks his tongue, eyes raking across your body as it takes him, resting on each mark disrupting the otherwise milk-smooth skin. “If only you’d accepted your place sooner.”
The ember burning within you is all but a piece of cooling charcoal now. You feel it diminish every day, leaving you even thinner than before.
“But then again, I quite enjoy you like this—littered with my battle scars from your toes up to your crown. It’s rather intimate, isn’t it?” he hums with a smile. “Proof of all the times I could’ve quashed you beneath my foot like a pitiful bug but decided to spare you. Teach you how to worship like the weak ought to.”
There was a time when you still humored the thought of killing him, even with your quirk taken from you. You thought, in your foolishness, that being this close to him must garner an opportunity, any, however slim, just enough for you to take advantage and finish what you vowed to end so long ago.
Now, you almost don’t care anymore. The world had moved on without you, and there was nothing more you could do about it.
You realize your promise had been as cheap as this outfit.
“The greater the fall, the sweeter the surrender, isn’t that right?” he states. “Doesn’t it feel good to finally accept your place in the world, hero?”
You can only nod your head and agree.
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♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist
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nariism · 1 year ago
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ೃ⁀➷ THIEF! ★
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Based off this ask by @raphuna-nekomada !!
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The first time, Neuvillette brushed it off as if nothing had happened.
He spent the entire morning looking for his dedicated Monday bow, black with silver intricacies that you personally picked out for him many years ago.
"Must be a sign from the universe not to go into work," you hummed from the bed, rolling over and inviting him back under the blanket. He hadn't indulged you on Monday, instead opting to use his Tuesday ribbon and huffing about how he would find the missing article later.
The second time it happened, he was suspicious.
Two days in a row his ribbon had gone missing, now his Wednesday ribbon had been used for Tuesday. It irked him, and while he had no other reason to suspect that you were the culprit, the way you beckoned him back to bed again flicked a switch in his mind.
Ultimately, he hadn't indulged you on Tuesday either.
The third time it happens, he saunters up to your side of the bed immediately.
"My love," he calls, and for a moment you think he hasn't caught you because he's lacking any sort of stern tone— the kind he would address Wriothesley with.
"Yes?" You peer up at him with a glimmer of mischief, clutching something to your chest. His eyes narrow and he kneels onto the bed beside you.
"Have you seen my ribbon?"
"I haven't."
"Are you sure? I'm certain I left it on the dresser last night."
"You must be imagining things, dearest."
You give him a sly, lazy smile and that's when he knows you're nothing but a terrible liar. He nearly scoffs in your face, leaning down closer so he can look at you with a hardening expression.
"And what exactly is your ploy here? Would you like me to wrestle it out of your hands?"
Your eyes widen in surprise for a moment before you laugh, clearly finding his suggestion humorous. "Would it keep you at home longer if you did?"
The gears turn in his head at your words, slow realization washing over him as you blink up innocently. (Feigning innocence, actually. Poorly.)
Ah, so that's what this is all about.
"You want me to stay home?"
A beat of silence. "And if I said yes?"
"You know my answer." Yet he hasn't pulled away, gotten off the bed, and left for work like he does every morning. In fact, you're pretty sure he's drawn a couple inches closer to you.
The fabric you stole from him suddenly wraps around the back of the neck and you rein him in until he's hovering just above you, arms and legs caging you in on either side.
"Got you," you sing quietly.
His gaze flickers down to your lips and then back to your eyes. "You got me," he repeats in faux defeat, swooping down to capture you in a kiss.
He starts to think that maybe a day off wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, but he has more than one trial today and there is no one to fill his role in his absence.
Still, Neuvillette decides that he can come to a compromise if only to hold you like this before his busy day. Besides, if he didn't indulge you now this would never end.
"Ten more minutes."
"Ouch. Stingy."
He smothers you under his body so you'll stop talking.
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© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.
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plumipal · 5 months ago
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I just had a thought- how would Grim and the ramshackle ghosts feel about all the stuff happening to us?
Especially if the yandere(s) are coming over to our dorm too! Would they, depending on the severity of the yandere and their specific actions, range from supporting it cuz yknow reader gets to be happy with someone who treats them well and loves them to concerned because sweetie please get yourself outta there 😭
I can imagine Grim is NOT alright with it and for a multitude of reasons, they are taking away your time with HIM, and once he pays more attention to the bigger picture? Yeah messed up things be occasionally happening that could very well hurt you!! He does not like that!!!
im just imagining Grim being visibly not alright and reader will not have it either when it comes to him, they are a PACKAGE deal and that is that no matter which yandere comes their way 🗣️
we have many people more alright with Grim being reader’s number one priority, or yknow silently(?) wishing it was them, poor Grim and Reader man encountering yandere after yandere 😭
Grim would give us a look if we expressed any sort of romantic interest in any yandere I think lol
‘Pologies if it was too long or ranty, though I am curious who you think would be the most and least alright with this? I imagine Leona and Ace (legally required to bring up Ace he’s my all time fav next to Grim) would NOT like it lmao
.. first off, this is the longest ask ive ever gotten, I gotta just say oml thank you so much????? You, wrote all of this, fpr me?? 🥹🥹🥹💖💖💖 this literally made my week thank you so much bestie 🥹😭 second off, this inspired me to rant too, I hope you enjoy!- (not proofread btw)
So im mainly gonna focus on grim, no offence to ramshackle ghost fans, I just really like the silly little fire-cat/rat/weasel/creature. He was literally our first friend, our first companion (I bet Ace and grim bicker on who was your first).
And oh boy, guy is NOT HAPPY when he sees all these dumbasses vying for your attention and either trying to butter him up with tuna (which will not work on the mighty grim!) or ugnore him completely! Like you stated you and him are a package deal! Get the prefect and get their silly hungry companion!!
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Now, grim surely uses his position as your closest companion as a safety net, they can't kill off the closest you have to family in this world! Guess they gotta live with him if they wanna have a life with you.
Ace hates that grim was your friend before him, feeling annoyed whenever he bullied (Juice) Deuce about being friends with you before him only for grim to butt in. Ace isn't too annoyed with grim though, and grim thinks that Ace is one of the better choises of the roster you have, they're both friends after all.
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Of course most students in the cast don't liek "sharing" you with grim, especially the more territorial ones. Leona is probably the worst, I mean come on they're both feline looking creatures. With scent being a heavy thing for felines (yes even beastmen dont come at me) Leona is not happy to have his scent on you be muddied by the little rodent (the greatest mage of all, grim). Probably the worst choise since they're just gonna bicker to the end of the world..
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Floyd doesn't like this either! Not fair that he has to share!! And with grim no less.. Floyd results in biting you instead of scenting, his chompers being good for nibbling on you. He also has the advantage that grim is sorta afraid of him (honestly who wouldn't be? Especially yan Floyd...).
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Kalim tries to brime grim, with anything he could ever think off! Unlimited tuna for grim, and the best there is as well!! Nything grim could ever want on a silver platter, only if grim let's kalim marry you! That alone doesn't sound too bad, but that unsettling horrifying servant that follows Kalim around. He knows what jamil can do, and he sure does NOT want you with that dude!- guy is manipulative and creepy (he would definelty seperate you and grim!-)
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Malleus... Malleus scares grim, guys is honestly horrifying. Threatening to curse him into an eternal slumber so he can whisk you away from him, he doesn't want that! You would also get sad id malleus did that, so luckily the possessive dragon had to share (for now...)
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Whoever you choose, grim would probably disapprove, guy thinks of you as family (he will never admit that tho). He cares about you, and he is not okay with the invasion of privacy from these teenagers! >:(
I know you didn't ask fpr any drawing or such, but I couldn't help myself sorry 🤭 hope you like my ramblings back at you!
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cinhomi · 1 year ago
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Dilf! Minho though he had enough of paternity after his divorce and his own children. He loved them, but he didn't want more..until the new babysitter comes to the picture and suddenly he has the biggest breeding kink not even his wife could pull from him
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YES YES YES LIKE, the only good thing his ex ever did was hiring you to watch the kids for both of them, really. and you're even a sweet, smart, pretty girl...
your skin is so smooth and clear, not a wrinkle in sight for another ten years at least, always dressed nicely to make a good impression for the world that is still knowing you, sweet perfume making his mouth water when he's near you. the shape of your ass in those tight jeans you often wear is always the last thing he sees when he leaves the house and stays a little bit more at the entrance to watch you turn your attention back to his precious kids.
and god the way you take care of his children. he once came back and heard you scold them and it was the hottest thing ever, like as if you were their real mom... would you like that? he asks this to himself everytime it's his turn to keep them and you tag along. Minho gave you permission to do pretty much whatever you need with them, for them. when he comes home from a long stressful day at work and he finds you cooking because you "think it's better if they eat something homemade instead of take-out" a lovely domestic image presents in front of him, something that he never got to see with his past marriage.
when he stands beside you to help, his white shirt's sleeves rolled up his surprisingly big arms, veins adorning them like they're pieces of jewelry... you don't expect your core to tighten. but you never really expect him having an effect on you everytime he comes close, when he gently touches your waist to get past you, when he softly presses on your back and grabs something from behind you.
he's such an attracrive, elegant kind man, profoundly devoted to his son and his daughter, how could he ever end up with such a disgusting woman previously? you hate her. you hate her so much because she lets her own children stay more with their father and a babysitter than her but you're also grateful to see him more often. you're by now part of the family, you got to know a lot about each other.
dilf Minho who watches you smile adoringly while you help him put his treasures to sleep and tuck the covers under them, his daughter whispering in a breath, probably accidentally and halfawy in the world of dreams a "thank you mommy".
and it all just... clicks. yeah he didn't really want to be a father of three or more, heck his first two kids were the result of a marriage that was already collapsing at the time, and even if he loves them endlessly the idea of more wasn't that appealing. before meeting you.
so that night he doesn't let you leave. he pictures in his mind the outline of yours and his lips in one, not just for a simple kiss, but... as to envision them on another little puffy face. the color of your eyes his so, so beautiful to him and combined with his nose, his lashes, your eyebrows, both your hair, heck even the shape of your ears... he's convinced you could give him such a beautiful baby.
ahh, his ex was beautiful too don't get him wrong, his kids are kissed by the sun itself, but you, damn, you. he wants a baby from you. he needs to see if what he imagined will turn out right, or even more beautiful. Minho needs to fuck you hard and deep to be sure you leave his house stuffed with his next child and he needs to have you always ready for him because he plans on taking you whenever you two are alone, where and how doesn't matter.
the sight of his hair with few silver strikes at the sides, gold thin necklace jumping on his still pumped pecs, strong arms keeping your legs up his shoulders... it's all almost too much combined with the way he's deep inside you thrusting at a speed and with an angle that makes you almost ascend to heaven, something no other younger guy was ever able to do.
"lower your voice pretty, don't wanna wake up the kids hm?" he whispers just before sloppily kissing you to shut you up.
you already came on his fingers in the hallway where he couldn't wait to have you all for him to use, making you lay your back on the wall while he pressed himself onto you, his fingers inside your little hole as he spread them and caressed your walls. he made sure to prep you well, you had to be ready to take loads and loads of his cum after all, right?
and you came on his tongue too when he finally picked you up and ran to his cold clean bedroom, one that no woman after his ex wife saw, when he told you he was in exctasy.
"I've never had a more delicious cunt in my entire life" he said, clit circling in his mouth right after, then his tongue fucking you, then your juices all around his face. he surely had more experience than you, and your pussy being the best he ever laid his tongue on? well, it's more than a compliment to you.
all that to make you so dumb you don't even have a chance to protest against his plan.
"gonna make you so full kitten, you'll carry a baby for me yeah? is that right? you'll do that."
you're still too young to be thinking about being a mother but he makes it sound so, so tempting. you'd have a stable life, a loving and outrageously hot husband partner, a nice home always full of happiness and if he would fuck you like he's doing now for the rest of your life, well, you would consider yourself the luckiest woman on earth.
"stuff you 'till- 'till you become round and puffy- fuck! I'll give you another one, just another one..." and it's his third orgasm inside of you. having a man like him become so desperate for you makes your walls tighten around him again, losing count of how many times your pleasure reached the sky, hearing him grunt and try to contain his sounds to not disturb the tranquillity of the house and to not scare you away.
dilf Minho who can't get himself to pull out just yet, his cock hardening again just from the thought of you being a mommy while he's a daddy. his cock pushes his release inside you deeper and deeper adding pressure to your womb, overwhelming feeling manifesting through tears.
"shh kitten, it's okay, breathe..." his soft kisses being placed on your cheeks, hands momentarily moving from your sore legs to place them down and caress your breasts that, well, he never thought about it but he would very much like to suck when anching from being too full of milk.
"daddy's gonna give you some more, and you'll be good and keep it all inside." he starts to move again, and he restricts your hands in his when you start to writhe and wiggle away because it's stings too good.
"imagine how happy they'll be when you'll have breakfast with us in the morning," he kisses you again, and when he sees your fucked out expression he's the one who needs to calm down.
"they love you. will you let me teach them to call you mommy?"
dilf Minho who finishes fucking you when the light coming from outside isn't from the moon anymore, but the sun. dilf Minho that watches you sleep peacefully on his chest even if he has to get up to prepare his kids for school. dilf Minho who thought he would never feel such strong emotion for anyone anymore, but finds himself making up a discourse about how he wants you to go out on a date with him, even if he's old and maybe not the cool type you may like at your age, but that can love you properly and treat you like a queen.
dilf Minho who stuffs his cock inside you again as he bends you on the counter when no one beside you two is in the house anymore.
continues here
thank you for this ask, I didn't really feel like writing a one shot about it just now, maybe in the future, who knows. hope you appreciated ;)
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astonmartinii · 1 year ago
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mamma mia | formula one social media au
drivers: sebastian vettel, jenson button and fernando alonso
what the hell is in the water in greece? why are pregnancy tests so expensive and why does seb name his vehicles like that?
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fernandoalo_oficial
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liked by maxverstappen1, aussiegrit and 803,450 others
location: greece
fernandoalo_oficial: had a great break in greece recharging the old batteries 🔋
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user1: old man who is this woman?
landonorris: who taught you to soft launch grandpa?
fernandoalo_oficial: hey! respect your elders
landonorris: you just called yourself old? and WHO IS THIS?
fernandoalo_oficial: none of your damn business kid
user2: why is he particularly dilfy lately?
user3: he's approaching silver fox territory i fear
jensonbutton: i see that greece was a popular spot for wold champions this break?
fernandoalo_oficial: i also saw, sad not to bump into you old friend :(
maxverstappen1: where was my invite ???
jensonbutton: cool world champions only
lewishamilton: excuse me?
fernandoalo_oficial: idk what to tell you it wasn't planned, me, jenson and sebastian just have good taste
sebastianvettel: i see mary goodnight was appreciated
fernandoalo_oficial: yes thank you for lending me your boat, huge hit with the ladies
sebastianvettel: very happy with my choice to get it deep cleaned before i got there
fernandoalo_oficial: first of all, i'm not dirty. second of all, thanks for the faith in my game big man
user4: i am so confused by this comment section I DID NOT WANT TO KNOW ALONSO FUCKED ON SEB'S BOAT ???
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yourusername
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liked by yourbff, oliviarodrigo and 1,340.987 others
tagged: yourbff
yourusername: (sober) brunch with a side of light baby daddy investigation
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user7: only y/n would end up in a mamma mia situation, stay strong
yourusername: omg i didn't even realise, but donna was always a bad bitch, so i will just be the same
user8: i can't believe i am watching a girl investigate her own baby daddies on the internet (i love this place)
yourbff: if we can't find the lucky men, at least they'll have a cool ass aunt
yourusername: all fun and games until you have to change a nappy
user9: i'm enjoying this saga, BUT, why can't we just wait and do a paternity test
yourusernmae: i still need to know them to do that... and being nosey is far more fun
user10: all i'm thinking is this girl has to have GAME for three dilfs in the span of like three days... RESPECT 🫡
user11: i am so invested in this... please be interesting people 🤞
jensonbutton
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liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoalo_oficial and 401,330 others
jensonbutton: back on sky duty and bumped into a couple of familiar faces
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user12: who let these old men talk about their sex lives on a live broadcast?
user13: i am entertained tbf
user14: obsessed with both needing to reinforce the fact that they pulled in greece
user15: i need seb to jump in on this conversation ASAP
fernandoalo_oficial: not happy with you pinning all of my success on seb's boat mate
jensonbutton: was it all your charming personality?
fernandoalo_oficial: obviously
sebastianvettel: i can confirm that it's always all the boat
jensonbutton: is that a confession?
sebastianvettel: gentleman don't kiss and tell x
charles_leclerc: jesus christ and we're the generation ruining the sport?
jensonbutton: f1 has always been slutty, you guys are letting us down
maxverstappen1: clearly you guys are still active enough to keep up the reputation yourselves
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sebastianvettel
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liked by charles_leclerc, jensonbutton and 902,180 others
sebastianvettel: retirement is looking fun, glad to take mary goodnight out for her first spin
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user21: did he just say mary goodnight? SEB WHAT?
user22: omfg he is potential baby daddy two??
charles_leclerc: so seb got a bit too lucky in greece?
user23: CHARLES?
user24: i am losing my mind they were right, they are the baby daddies
user25: i knew as soon as she said a nando with a samurai tattoo
user26: @yourusername he's number two !!!!!
user27: @yourusername we found him, boat and all
landonorris: YOU'RE POTENTIAL BABY DADDY TWO SEB WHAT THE FUCK
sebastianvettel: i don't understand lando
landonorris: check your texts
user28: don't forget the others lando
landonorris: @fernandoalo_oficial check your texts (and forward it to jenson i don't have his number)
fernandoalo_oficial: okay?
yourusername: WHAT THE FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK
user29: i think someone needs to check on her
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yourusername
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liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoalo_oficial and 1,509,600 others
yourusername: i hot girl summer-ed a bit too close to the sun, what do you mean the three dilfs were f1 world champions?
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note: AHHHHHH? idk if i love it or hate it? do i know who i plan on being the dad? no. but do i plan on expanding on this? yes. mamma mia chaos will return.
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pomefioredove · 8 days ago
Note
Hi Dove!!! Can I request headcanons of Vil with a reader who decided not to act on their feelings for him (he found out some other way) because they were worried he would brush off their confession as a shallow celebrity crush?
hehe I love a little drama
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*ੈ✩‧₊˚ starstruck
type of post: short fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, not proofread
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Vil had seen that look on your face from the moment your eyes met.
It was flattering. Knowing that he was an ethereal beauty in this world and yours was a compliment you hadn't even known you'd given him.
You were special. In your own right, and to him. You weren't like the others, whose love of him began and ended with his fame. You were his friend. Your love held weight.
Perhaps he had teased you about being starstruck one too many times...
"...I see," he says, fingers curling around the thin piece of notebook paper, as if it was trying to get away from him.
Vil had never looked so... so...
...His look was intense, the corners of his eyes crinkled in thought, his other hand covering the scowl on his perfect lips.
It's your handwriting. There's no doubt about that. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, he tears his eyes away from the paper.
"Why did you bring me this?"
Silver looks almost... uncomfortable, out of place, standing in the Pomefiore lounge.
"I... just thought..." he mutters. "...I just thought I was helping."
You are, Vil thinks. More than you know.
"You are dismissed. Send my regards to Malleus. And tell him he has a fine underclassman on his hands,"
Silver's eyes widen, but he doesn't ask about the unexpected praise. He leaves Vil alone with the note, the note in your handwriting. The confession.
How stupid of you, he thinks. How could you think that he wouldn't feel the same...?
The note feels heavier than it should, your words leadened on the delicate paper.
I know you won't reciprocate, it says, I don't expect you to, but I don't want you to think that this is just some celebrity crush...
The rest of the confession is scribbled out, either from frustration, or embarrassment, or...
And it was left in a bin by the stables, where Sebek found it, who gave it to Silver, who gave it to Vil.
Who, now, can't seem to let it go.
.
Vil can't confront you about it like some... boy.
You need delicacy. You need assurance. He's not going to force the confession out of your throat. He doesn't need to.
This isn't about him. Or his ego.
"I'm happy you could find the time to see me. It's been ages since we've gotten together," he says, smoothing the face mask over your cheeks.
"You said you had something important to tell me,"
You speak rather bluntly. He chuckles. He can't tell if that's your nerves, or eagerness, or curiosity. But it's cute.
"I did," he says, and nothing more.
You blink. "...Did something happen?"
Yes, he thinks. "No,"
"...Are you going to tell me?"
"I am. Patience," he says, adding the final touches on your personalized face mask. A formula he made himself.
"Don't talk, or you'll crack it. Five minutes."
You nod, and once he's sure the mask has set, ensuring he'll talk without interruption, he begins.
"I first want you to know that there is nothing you could do that I would resent you for,"
You look like you want to say something, and he tsks, reminding you of the mask.
"...It's true that you annoy me, sometimes, but you should know by now that I find that quite endearing. We've become quite close. Closer than I would have thought. And I could never see you as nothing but a fan. You know you're more than that to me,"
You almost open your mouth, and he holds a finger to your lips with a gentle smile.
"And I have a feeling that I am more to you than a celebrity," he says. "Perhaps even more than a friend."
Finally, you're speechless. His features soften.
"And perhaps I think the same of you... but all I will say, for now, is that if there were anything you wanted to say... well, I've always got a spot open in my schedule for you. Understood?"
After a long moment of silence and staring, you nod. Vil smiles back.
"Good. Time's up. And then it'll be your turn to talk, and mine to listen,"
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headspace-hotel · 1 year ago
Text
There, in the sunlit forest on a high ridgeline, was a tree I had never seen before.
I spend a lot of time looking at trees. I know my beech, sourwood, tulip poplar, sassafras and shagbark hickory. Appalachian forests have such a diverse tree community that for those who grew up in or around the ancient mountains, forests in other places feel curiously simple and flat.
Oaks: red, white, black, bur, scarlet, post, overcup, pin, chestnut, willow, chinkapin, and likely a few others I forgot. Shellbark, shagbark and pignut hickories. Sweetgum, serviceberry, hackberry, sycamore, holly, black walnut, white walnut, persimmon, Eastern redcedar, sugar maple, red maple, silver maple, striped maple, boxelder maple, black locust, stewartia, silverbell, Kentucky yellowwood, blackgum, black cherry, cucumber magnolia, umbrella magnolia, big-leaf magnolia, white pine, scrub pine, Eastern hemlock, redbud, flowering dogwood, yellow buckeye, white ash, witch hazel, pawpaw, linden, hornbeam, and I could continue, but y'all would never get free!
And yet, this tree is different.
We gather around the tree as though surrounding the feet of a prophet. Among the couple dozen of us, only a few are much younger than forty. Even one of the younger men, who smiles approvingly and compliments my sharp eye when I identify herbs along the trail, has gray streaking his beard. One older gentleman scales the steep ridge slowly, relying on a cane for support.
The older folks talk to us young folks with enthusiasm. They brighten when we can call plants and trees by name and list their virtues and importance. "You're right! That's Smilax." "Good eye!" "Do you know what this is?—Yes, Eupatorium, that's a pollinator's paradise." "Are you planning to study botany?"
The tree we have come to see is not like the tall and pillar-like oaks that surround us. It is still young, barely the diameter of a fence post. Its bark is gray and forms broad stripes like rivulets of water down smooth rock. Its smooth leaves are long, with thin pointed teeth along their edges. Some of the group carefully examine the bark down to the ground, but the tree is healthy and flourishing, for now.
This tree is among the last of its kind.
The wood of the American Chestnut was once used to craft both cradles and coffins, and thus it was known as the "cradle-to-grave tree." The tree that would hold you in entering this world and in leaving it would also sustain your body throughout your life: each tree produced a hundred pounds of edible nuts every winter, feeding humans and all the other creatures of the mountains. In the Appalachian Mountains, massive chestnut trees formed a third of the overstory of the forest, sometimes growing larger than six feet in diameter.
They are a keystone species, and this is my first time seeing one alive in the wild.
It's a sad story. But I have to tell you so you will understand.
At the turn of the 20th century, the chestnut trees of Appalachia were fundamental to life in this ecosystem, but something sinister had taken hold, accidentally imported from Asia. Cryphonectria parasitica is a pathogenic fungus that infects chestnut trees. It co-evolved with the Chinese chestnut, and therefore the Chinese chestnut is not bothered much by the fungus.
The American chestnut, unlike its Chinese sister, had no resistance whatsoever.
They showed us slides with photos of trees infected with the chestnut blight earlier. It looks like sickly orange insulation foam oozing through the bark of the trees. It looks like that orange powder that comes in boxes of Kraft mac and cheese. It looks wrong. It means death.
The chestnut plague was one of the worst ecological disasters ever to occur in this place—which is saying something. And almost no one is alive who remembers it. By the end of the 1940's, by the time my grandparents were born, approximately three to four billion American chestnut trees were dead.
The Queen of the Forest was functionally extinct. With her, at least seven moth species dependent on her as a host plant were lost forever, and no one knows how much else. She is a keystone species, and when the keystone that holds a structure in place is removed, everything falls.
Appalachia is still falling.
Now, in some places, mostly-dead trees tried to put up new sprouts. It was only a matter of time for those lingering sprouts of life.
But life, however weak, means hope.
I learned that once in a rare while, one of the surviving sprouts got lucky enough to successfully flower and produce a chestnut. And from that seed, a new tree could be grown. People searched for the still-living sprouts and gathered what few chestnuts could be produced, and began growing and breeding the trees.
Some people tried hybridizing American and Chinese chestnuts and then crossing the hybrids to produce purer American strains that might have some resistance to the disease. They did this for decades.
And yet, it wasn't enough. The hybrid trees were stronger, but not strong enough.
Extinction is inevitable. It's natural. There have been at least five mass extinctions in Earth's history, and the sixth is coming fast. Many people accepted that the American chestnut was gone forever. There had been an intensive breeding program, summoning all the natural forces of evolution to produce a tree that could survive the plague, and it wasn't enough.
This has happened to more species than can possibly be counted or mourned. And every species is forced to accept this reality.
Except one.
We are a difficult motherfucker of a species, aren't we? If every letter of the genome's book of life spelled doom for the Queen of the Forest, then we would write a new ending ourselves. Research teams worked to extract a gene from wheat and implant it in the American chestnut, in hopes of creating an American chestnut tree that could survive.
This project led to the Darling 58, the world's first genetically modified organism to be created for the purpose of release into the wild.
The Darling 58 chestnut is not immune, the presenters warned us. It does become infected with the blight. And some trees die. But some live.
And life means hope.
In isolated areas, some surviving American Chestnut trees have been discovered, most of them still very young. The researchers hope it is possible that some of these trees may have been spared not because of pure luck, but because they carry something in their genes that slows the blight in doing its deadly work, and that possibly this small bit of innate resistance can be shaped and combined with other efforts to create a tree that can live to grow old.
This long, desperate, multi-decade quest is what has brought us here. The tree before me is one such tree: a rare survivor. In this clearing, a number of other baby chestnut trees have been planted by human hands. They are hybrids of the Darling 58 and the best of the best Chinese/American hybrids. The little trees are as prepared for the blight as we can possibly make them at this time. It is still very possible that I will watch them die. Almost certainly, I will watch this tree die, the one that shades us with her young, stately limbs.
Some of the people standing around me are in their 70's or 80's, and yet, they have no memory of a world where the Queen of the Forest was at her full majesty. The oldest remember the haunting shapes of the colossal dead trees looming as if in silent judgment.
I am shaken by this realization. They will not live to see the baby trees grow old. The people who began the effort to save the American chestnut devoted decades of their lives to these little trees, knowing all the while they likely never would see them grow tall. Knowing they would not see the work finished. Knowing they wouldn't be able to be there to finish it. Knowing they wouldn't be certain if it could be finished.
When the work began, the technology to complete it did not exist. In the first decades after the great old trees were dead, genetic engineering was a fantasy.
But those that came before me had to imagine that there was some hope of a future. Hope set the foundation. Now that little spark of hope is a fragile flame, and the torch is being passed to the next generation.
When a keystone is removed, everything suffers. What happens when a keystone is put back into place? The caretakers of the American chestnut hope that when the Queen is restored, all of Appalachia will become more resilient and able to adapt to climate change.
Not only that, but this experiment in changing the course of evolution is teaching us lessons and skills that may be able to help us save other species.
It's just one tree—but it's never just one tree. It's a bear successfully raising cubs, chestnut bread being served at a Cherokee festival, carbon being removed from the atmosphere and returned to the Earth, a wealth of nectar being produced for pollinators, scientific insights into how to save a species from a deadly pathogen, a baby cradle being shaped in the skilled hands of an Appalachian crafter. It's everything.
Despair is individual; hope is an ecosystem. Despair is a wall that shuts out everything; hope is seeing through a crack in that wall and catching a glimpse of a single tree, and devoting your life to chiseling through the wall towards that tree, even if you know you will never reach it yourself.
An old man points to a shaft of light through the darkness we are both in, toward a crack in the wall. "Do you see it too?" he says. I look, and on the other side I see a young forest full of sunlight, with limber, pole-size chestnut trees growing toward the canopy among the old oaks and hickories. The chestnut trees are in bloom with fuzzy spikes of creamy white, and bumblebees heavy with pollen move among them. I tell the man what I see, and he smiles.
"When I was your age, that crack was so narrow, all I could see was a single little sapling on the forest floor," he says. "I've been chipping away at it all my life. Maybe your generation will be the one to finally reach the other side."
Hope is a great work that takes a lifetime. It is the hardest thing we are asked to do, and the most essential.
I am trying to show you a glimpse of the other side. Do you see it too?
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etheries1015 · 6 months ago
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after learning Silver uses a BAR OF SOAP to wash his hair...AND wanting to wish him a happy birthday, I decided he must be pampered with a...little spa day, and something a little special near the end <3 Happy birthday, Silver!!
General warnings: gender neutral reader
Upon visiting Silver in his dorm for a small birthday celebration and finding out the unfortunate truth behind his hair-washing habits, you were quick to insist you take him out shopping or teach him the ways of proper hair care.
"I had no clue it wasn't normal to just use a bar of soap," Silver shrugged, "As long as it makes me clean, right?"
"Just hearing you say that hurts," you joked exasperatedly, "I feel it's my duty now to train you in the ways of making your hair clean and feel like you're touching a cloud."
"Well," Silver pondered, "I guess it wont hurt to learn."
"Perfect!" You jumped up from your seat, the Diasomnia lounge, "you guys are done here, right?" Lilia looked as startled as Silver at your sudden outburst, before taking a glance at the already eaten birthday cake and open presents that lay out on the table.
"I suppose it is time to retire, I have a gaming session happening soon anyways," Lilia pointed out, before a sly smile crawled upon his lips and looking at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes, "Feel free to take him!"
"Take me?" Silver perked up, sitting up straight. Giving an...unsettling cackle and grabbing Silvers hands, you began to pull him up and urge him to follow you.
"Perfect. Yes, i'm kidnapping you. Remember, I told you that I left my present for you at Ramshackle anyways. AND this is a perfect opportunity for me to initiate my next mission..."
"Mission...?" you heard Lilia sing his goodbyes and waved a quick farewell to the other members of Diasomnia, before dragging Silver out the door and towards the direction of the hall of mirrors.
"Operation: spoil the birthday boy with a spa day!"
Wearing the world's softest robe you had let him use, Silver dosed off a few times after being completely pampered like a princess, and not as a result of his typical condition. You messaging his scalp was probably the most heavenly thing he had felt in a long time, the way your fingers worked on his head left his eyes fluttering shut. He was honestly sad when he realized he had fallen asleep and missed half of the process, but he could still feel your touch linger on his head and immensely enjoy the newfound softness of his silver locks.
You woke him up when you had placed a cool face mask on him, and fell asleep once more when you had started to massage his tense shoulders and cut his nails... He felt like floating on clouds, and those clouds also smelled like you.
"It's nice..." Silver hummed, eyes fluttering open watching you finish filing one of his nails, "You have a very nice scent. I would like to know where you get your hair products," He smiled at you.
"We can find you a scent that suites you more," you offered, "every person has their own unique scent! I'm sure with some time, we can find the perfect one for you." However, Silver shook his head in earnest. It was much more romantic than he probably intended, yet he leaned forward and took a light smell of your also freshly washed hair.
"I like your scent," he smiled, "besides, it would be nice to share something similar, right? So when we aren't together, there's always a piece of you there. You also convinced me that hair care is more important than I gave it credit for..."
Your face took a rosy hue, you groaned in embarrassment, covering your face with your hands.
"You're so...cheesy! You don't need my shampoo and conditioner to be reminded of me, I actually...got you...something. For your birthday." Silver raised a curious eyebrow and tilted his head with widened eyes.
"I thought you spoiling me with a little 'spa' was my birthday gift? you've already spoiled me plenty, I don't need-"
"Of course that's not all I have planned!" You exasperated, pushing Silver down onto the couch in Ramshackle lounge, "Wait here." Sprinting away, you were back almost as fast as you had left, in your hands you held a small box obviously held for some type of accessory. Taking it gracefully, Silver opened the box to reveal a silver bracelet adorned with...
"Acorns?" Silver asked startled, holding up the bracelet and examining it with curious and starry eyes.
"I saw the one you made for Lilia," You pointed out shyly, "Out of real acorns. I thought of making one myself for you, too...but, I wanted something a little more durable, something you can wear more often. If...you don't mind accessories." You hid your hands behind your back fidgeting with your fingers nervously, before a smile spread ear to ear and cheeks rose with a blush from the male. He gripped the bracelet with eagerness, and you swore the bright look on his face would surely give the sun some competition.
"I love it," Silver replied with a voice dripping in enthusiasm, "I won't be able to wear it while I'm training, but I'll be sure to have it on at all times. I'll take great care of it, thank you." You were visibly relieved, chuckling and bringing your hands to your front as you revealed an exact match of the same bracelet you had just given him.
"i'm glad, otherwise it would have been pretty embarrassing to wear a matching bracelet with nobody actually matching with me..." Silver stared with wide auroral orbs, mouth ajar upon seeing it. "So...we have something to share! Just like you were talking about before, right?"
Engulfing you in a hug after putting on the accessory in one fell swoop, Silver couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of affection for the prefect of ramshackle dorm. He squeezed you tightly, yet not enough to harm you. You smiled and returned the hug in full, chuckling at his sudden display of fondness.
"This has been a wonderful birthday," Silver said, "Thank you, truly. I will remember this day for a very, very long time." leaning into his touch, you pushed aside the urge to tell him he was overreacting, and took the honest boys words at face value.
"Of course...Happy birthday, Silver!"
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riordanness · 10 months ago
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lover — [w.wonka]
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wordcount: 1K
warnings: none
requested: yes!! anon <3
You’d think that working for the greatest chocolate maker in the world would be awesome, right?
You’d be correct. However… some parts were not quite so awesome. Especially when you’re head over heels in love with said chocolate maker.
“Noodle!” I scold, laughing as she tosses yet another chocolate in her mouth, rather than stacking them as we’re supposed to be doing.
She shrugs, and gives me a wicked grin. “Sorry, not sorry.”
I roll my eyes, taking a bite out of my own selected piece of chocolate. Willy always says that we should eat whatever and whenever we like. He just cares that much for us.
“What do you want to do when you’re older, y/n?” Noodle asks me suddenly.
I frown at the question. “I am older.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re like eighteen. I mean older, older.”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m pretty content just working at this shop right now. But I’d like to fall in love, get married, and have a family. That would be nice, I guess. It’s not likely, though.”
“Why not? That’s totally likely.”
I smile a little. “Because, Noodle-dee, I’m not that kind of girl. Guys don’t just go and fall in love with me.”
She smirks a little, and pops another chocolate in her mouth. “You never know, y/n-doo.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” There’s a smile in my voice.
Noodle doesn’t reply, so I let it go, going back to stacking Willy’s gorgeous chocolates in their pretty display cases for the shop. This is honestly probably my favourite job in the entire store. Making it look pretty.
It’s the end of the day, all the customers are gone, and just Noodle, Willy, and I are left, all doing our individual closing duties.
Noodle cleans the floors, I count the till money, and Willy, well, I’m still not exactly sure what he does, but he walks through every single room in the entire building, checking something.
Probably some big important, owner-of-the-chocolate-factory job I don’t know about.
Noodle and her bucket of soapy water makes it way over to me. “Hey y/n,” she sing-songs.
“Mm?” I glance up from counting silver sovereigns.
“You know how you were saying you wanted to fall in love?”
“Someday, yeah.”
Noodle looks amused about something. “Are you already in love? Do you at least have someone in mind?”
My brain immediately, unhelpfully, offers up an image of Willy, with his smiling face and unruly dark curls. I suddenly get very flustered. “Uh—no. Of course not, Noodle.”
“Really.” She raises an eyebrow, deadpanning at me.
I shake my head. “I don’t have anyone, uh, in mind, no. I’m not in love. That’s ridiculous.”
At that moment, without either me or Noodle noticing, Willy reenters the main shop room where we both are. But I’m so engrossed in trying to convince Noodle to drop this topic that I don’t even see him.
“What about Willy?” Noodle suddenly asks.
I drop my stack of sovereigns. “What do you mean?”
Noodle has her hands on her hips. “You like him. It’s so obvious.”
I fumble with the coins, trying desperately to keep my hands from shaking. “No—? I don’t—um. No. I don’t like him. I mean I do, like him. But not, uh, like, like him.”
“Are you sure? You don’t seem sure.”
I groan, slamming the sovereigns onto the counter. “Fine. You win, Noodle-dee. I like Willy. A lot. In fact, I’m desperately in love with him and I think about him almost constantly. Now can you please drop it?” I don’t even realise I have tears in my eyes, but my emotions suddenly come to a swirling head, and I hiccup, and brush a tear away.
“I’m sorry,” Noodle whispers, but she sounds more triumphant than sorry. “I won’t ask you about it again.”
She grabs up her bucket and leaves abruptly.
I blink a few times, let out a sigh, and finish up with the till money. Then I flick off all the lights, lock up the inner doors, and get ready to leave for the day.
Noodle has already signed out, so I guess it’s only Willy left in the shop somewhere. “Willy?” I call, “I’m heading off now!”
Willy appears, hurrying over to me. “Thanks, y/n.” He has a weird look on his face, and he won’t look at me.
“Everything okay?” I ask uncertainly. “You look strange.”
He shakes his head. “Fine, fine. I’m okay.”
“Alright.” I shrug. “I’m heading home now. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I say this every day. It’s like clockwork.
Willy usually echoes it back, tells me to get home safely, and gives me a smile. But today, it’s different.
“Y/n, wait,” he says, just as my fingers are on the doorknob.
I glance at him. “Yeah?”
He licks his lips, glancing everywhere but me. “I heard you and Noodle earlier.”
I freeze, unsure of what to say or do. “You did?”
He nods. “Is it true? You’re in love with me?”
I don’t answer right away. I look at him for a moment, breathe, and then nod my head once. “Ever since I met you,” I say, and try to laugh. But it’s not really that funny. It’s kind of pathetic, actually. Because I am just y/n, and he is Willy Wonka.
“Me too, you know.”
It takes me way too many heartbeats to understand what he means. “What?”
“I’m in love with you, too, silly.” He chuckles, playing with his fingers.
I stare at him. “You… you, what?”
He laughs again, more forcefully this time. “Y/n, just come here.” He reaches for me, hands cupping my face, and when he pulls me into him, and kisses me, I can’t even breathe. It’s surreal, like a dream, but it’s real, and it’s happening, and it’s him, and it’s everything.
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luvissues · 3 months ago
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hmm thinking about simon x reader, except he’s finally found someone who might be a little fucked up too, just not in the way he’s used to
cw: smoking, drugs/medication ?? sort of
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He’s used to the problems that soldiers like himself face; the world-weary men hardened by their work. He’s used to the permanent shadows etched deep under his Captain’s eyes and the way the Sergeants will reach for a holster on their thigh that isn’t there. He’s used to the ringing in his ears that comes by when he isn’t surrounded by the cacophony of war and the erratic jump of his heart when he goes about without a mask on. He’s accustomed to it now.
That’s not to say he isn’t welcoming to other things- he can laugh at a bar after a long mission, he can find comfort in the familiarity of a team. He’s put in the effort not to turn so completely numb to the world, but he’s not entirely normal, either. Always at an arms length from embracing a life outside of his work, a firm line in the sand.
Sometimes, he wonders. Wonders what it might be like the remove the distance, to welcome that life. He knows it’s possible. He sees the thick metal band around Price’s finger and the wrinkled corners of photos tucked away in Johnny’s pocket. He sees how eager Gaz is to pack up for home after a mission- too excited to be going back to an ‘empty’ house. It’s possible, maybe, but it’s a far and foreign concept.
There’s nothing about him that would draw in the kind of softness he craves. Nothing about the puckered silver lines that highlight his face or the patches of mangled flesh on his body that would appeal to a partner. He tries to tell himself that it’s just his body; the wounds that never fully healed. Tells himself that any person would be scared of a man with such a build, all hulking height and weight.
He knows it’s not just the body, at the end of the day, but he can tell himself otherwise. He’ll pretend the vacancy of his eyes or the way he gets put on edge by even the quiet ticking of a clock isn’t a part of it. He’ll pretend the way he wakes up at night, sweating and delirious and maybe too eager to fight enemies that aren’t there, isn’t a part of it.
That’s his problem. No matter where he is, no matter how safe or secure, he will always be one of the world-weary men.
His teammates had learned how to reel it in. They learned not to flinch at every unexpected touch of their lovers’ hand, learned how to keep their night terrors at bay. They learned how to soothe, how to comfort. They taught themselves it all, had built that life aside from their work. That’s the concept Simon couldn’t ever seem to perfect.
Simon doesn’t expect a sweet little bird to fall right into his lap. People know better than to pry open the jaws of a hungry animal, to offer themselves up- to loosen the shackles of a needy dog and let it get close. But maybe he doesn’t need a sweet little bird. Maybe he needs you.
He needs someone who’s a little roughed up, who’s not so fragile that he has to worry about breaking them for simply getting too close.
I’d like to think this person would’ve had bad luck, too. Someone who was never quite enough, even if they weren’t marred by war. Someone like Simon, who people knew not to get too friendly with. Another hungry mutt.
You two aren’t exactly the same. He sees the way you try to fill up space when you’re out smoking on the porch. Sees the muscles of your shoulders flex when you straighten your back, fix your posture. He sees how little you feel, and how you compensate for it physically.
He’s the opposite. Broad shoulders hunched in and back arched down. One foot crossed over the other, his head low. He knows he takes up too much space, and tries to cave in to make up for it. In that way, you compliment each other. Opposites, yes, but the space you fill is now equal.
Simon watches the skinny cigarette that dangles off your fingers, observes the flex of your knuckles when you bring it up for a drag. The motion is slow, languid, unlike the way his thick digits clench the cig in his own hand. He curls the muscles tight, willing them to shrink. The way you let your fingers twiddle and stretch freely is nothing like the way he attempts to conceal his own hands, rough and scarred and dirty. Still, maybe in that way, you compliment each other.
In the same manner, Simon will always observe the way you fish your pill box from your bag when it’s time to take your meds. Nothing about it is hurried. The way you tilt the metal open, the dosage falling into your palm. He watches you flutter around in search of something to wash it down with, as if you have all the time in the world.
You, in turn, ignore Simon when he takes his. Ignore how the bottles are stuffed at the bottom of his bag, how he closes his eyes when they slide into his mouth. You turn an eye to the way he swallows them dry, like if he takes them fast enough, he might forget they were even there.
The way you act is not the same, no. But you follow the same motions, have put the same distance between yourselves and a normal life. Maybe you could help each other finally close that gap?
It’s hard. Part of Simon is still afraid that you’re fragile, even with the space you’re not scared to take up. He’s scared that he’s accidentally caught a fleeting little bird, and he’s scared that one day, he will grow too much. He will crush it.
The man who tries to hide away from himself is dreading the day his grip loosens, and he again fills too much space. It will suffocate you. It will choke you out. Either the blood caked under his nails or the soot weighing heavy in his lungs or the flashes of gunfire he still sees when he lets his eyes slip closed for too long- something. He will fail, and even if he is accustomed to it, you could never be. That’s what will suffocate you, he thinks. All the things that have deterred everyone so far will eventually turn you away, too.
Simon’s problem is mistaking your dainty grace for weakness; but the pills you take, the heavy clouds of smoke- it’s no different from himself.
So what if there’s a bow tied around the knife you keep under your pillow? A knife is a knife. It’s a weapon as good as any. And with the gun he keeps on the bedside table, your room is perfectly secure.
Your cigarettes go next to each other on the counter and your pills go side by side in the medicine cabinet. Your knife rests safely under his head and his gun is nestled perfectly within your reach.
Maybe you can’t ever fix each other. Maybe the distance towards a normal life will never be closed. But, Simon never did think he’d end up with a little bird. Maybe it’s better if he has someone like you, another lousy hound, to take his hand.
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heartkaji · 4 months ago
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2O WOMEN VS 1 EGOIST !
bllk boys if they were in the videos by the sidemen + beta squad
includes: michael kaiser, isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, itoshi sae
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MICHAEL KAISER !
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“kaiser, ask her if she’d let you put your balls in her jaw.”
isagi’s voice is only a static crackle through the ear piece speaker, but it’s more than enough to have kaiser gnashing teeth & wrinkling nose. it was taking everything in his power not to snap the headset between his fingers. kaiser wasn’t even sure why he had to do this ; fuck yoichi and fuck bastard münchen’s publicity team.
he tries for an exhale but his dignity accompanies it, “would you let me put my balls in your jaw ?”
you’re the third girl who’s sat with kaiser so far & fuck his heart is aching— you’re far too pretty for this, blood drenched cheeks & freckled nose & silver draped around your neck like rings of vined ivy. kaiser can’t help but wonder why a pretty thing like you is here seeking male validation in thigh highs & skimpy bralette. surely someone of your beauty would know better, no ?
“what ?”
you ask so sweetly, lashes fluttering as you blink hurriedly as if it’ll help you hear better. if you were actually somebody, michael kaiser would be almost embarrassed by now, but you’re only pink painted lips & syrupy sweet voice so kaiser clears his throat & swallows his pride. he parts his lips to repeat the query but a hiss in his ear interrupts him, “she didn’t hear you, say it a—“
kaiser snaps the headset between his fingers & tosses it somewhere behind him. “i said, can i take you out sometime ?”
ISAGI YOICHI !
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“try to sit on her lap while she’s talking.”
“you lot can’t be serious.”
unfortunately for yoichi, hiori & kurona were dead serious. he picked at the earpiece as you babbled on about your ideal first date, teeth kissing as he plotted on how he’d sit himself between your thighs.
“— and i’m not trying to be different or anything, but i think dinner dates are rather boring. i’d rather go to an amusement park or—“
“same, honestly,” yoichi was a charmer with a voice heavier than tree sap. his baritone alone had your guts knotting & spilling. “rides are way more exciting, really get your adrenaline going huh ? and then at the end of the date you share a kiss on the ferris wheel. i fuck with that.”
you blink, flesh pinkening & blush crawling up your throat as your fingers play with your bag strap. yoichi thinks you’re cute. you’re a fucking doll really, a pretty little thing isagi has decided he likes staring at.
yoichi can’t help but tease your further, “you wouldn’t mind if i kissed you on a ferris wheel, right ?”
you bite your inner cheek & yoichi swears you’re the cutest thing in the world. as if rehearsed, you cross your legs, shoulders tucking as you straighten your spine,
“on the first date, isagi ? quite the manwhore aren’t you ?”
it catches him by surprise but also pulls him back to earth. he bites his tongue, “oh ? when would you let me kiss you then ?”
he gets off his seat as he speaks, striding towards you like it’s the most normal thing in the world. you choke on your tongue, “um, me ? on the first date is a bit too— isagi ? what are you—?”
he positions himself on your lap. “you were saying ?”
yoichi’s ear piece blares with booms of laughter. “nah this man’s not real ! man said—“
NAGI SEISHIRO !
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“are you a magician ? because when i look at you, everyone else disappears.”
“next.”
this was the eighth girl nagi had rejected. each girl came in with a new pick up line, and to nagi, each one seemed to be worse than the last.
“nagi, you have to say yes to someone already. you’ve rejected almost every— don’t listen to chigiri, nagi ! you don’t have to say yes to any of these bitches—“
nagi was about mid eye roll when you walked in.
you were rose dappled cheeks & fluffy jacket upon crème tee. your eyes met the room before his, scanning the seemingly infinite white walls & high ceiling. you even did a little wave to the camera before taking your seat. cute
even then, your eyes settled everywhere except him.
“hi,” he broke you out of your trance.
“ah— hello !” you flash him a shy grin, dimpled cheeks & freckled nose. “i was supposed to say a pick up line, right ? are you french, because—“
“no, no, please don’t,” nagi interrupts. you’re a pretty thing, red bruised knee bouncing over the other as you tuck away a strand of hair. fuck, you’re like candy for the eye.
“you get a pass.”
“huh ? but my pick up line—“
“no need, it’s a yes from me.”
pretty pink lips bend into a pout & nagi is almost tempted to let you say your line, but he shudders at the thought of your incomplete statement. you nod a bow & show yourself out with another tiny wave to the camera. perhaps this game isn’t all that bad after all.
mid thought, nagi’s earpiece crackles to life. “nagi, why’d you say yes ?! what’s she got that—“
ITOSHI SAE !
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“ask her if she’d get with a bisexual dude.”
“what ? stop it shidou he doesn’t like dudes. ask her if she—“
“how about i ask her to shut the fuck up?”
sae says it a bit too loudly so your eyes widen a bit before you seemingly shrink in on yourself. sae hadn’t actually meant it—he was only trying to put a stop to the squabbling in his ears but now your nose is red & you’re biting your lip like you’re about to cry.
truthfully, he doesn’t give a fuck.
but his PR team sure does. sae was live right now & his public image already wasn’t the prettiest. he’d also rather not receive yet another lecture from his manager.
“um, girl number nine ?”
the sound of a facepalm rattles in his earpiece. “isn’t she like, the fourth girl ?”
sae bites his bottom lip. you’re fidgeting with your nails & your breathing seems heavy & your eyes seem to be everywhere but his. you don’t even respond to his call. he sighs.
“that wasn’t meant for you, sorry.” he swallows. “you were talking about red flags in a relationship, right ?”
you seem to perk up—perhaps you thought he wasn’t listening ? you were going on & on but how could sae not pay you any mind when your voice seemed smoother than redwine & myrrh ?
“yes—yes i was ! um, what about you ? any red flags ?”
“when they’re too horny.” a damn-it ! blares through his ear piece.
you nod, “i get that. though honestly, i’m a bit of a freak myself.”
you say it like you didn’t just admit to being a professional dick sucker. “sae, ask her for her number—“
he taps a button & the humming in his ear ceases. “a freak, you say ? do elaborate.”
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© ─ heartkaji ; do not steal, edit, translate or reupload
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ickadori · 11 months ago
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++ 𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐔𝐌𝐄/𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀
[summary] uraume doesn’t like you, but sukuna has taken an interest in you, and there isn’t a thing in this world that they wouldn’t tolerate for lot sukuna, even if it is you.
[cws] fem reader. uraume hates you! they want to cook you, and mention it quite a lot -> mentions of cannibalism, but no one is actually eaten…yet. true form sukuna for the win. uraume very much has the hots for sukuna. team effort oral -> sukuna receiving. fingering -> reader receiving. threesome.
[an] inspired by this -> link. sosososososos happy this was planted in my head m going insane actually.
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Uraume hates you, indubitably.
You were a human, a sturdy one to be able to withstand Sukuna’s affection, but a human nonetheless. While their views on humans weren’t as grandiose as the likes of Geto, they still deemed them as beneath them, and anyone beneath Uraume had no business being in the presence of Sukuna, and yet you had been kept around.
They hadn’t known what Sukuna wanted with you at first — they had originally intended to cook you into a meal fitting for their king. You had plenty meat on you, and the king was often… hoggish when it came to his appetite, so you would have done a good job in being a filling meal, the only things humans were good for in Uraume’s eyes.
Sukuna had nearly beheaded them the moment a knife had been pointed in your direction. For whatever reason, you were special. It baffled them, entirely, completely, it still does. They had spent so much time watching you, observing all the things you did; the way you walked, the way your eyes nervously flitted about, never venturing past someone’s collar bones, the way you brushed your hair, the way fed yourself, how your fingers held the fork and knife (quite clumsily, may they add. You were clearly due for a lesson in etiquette.), how you tried and failed to properly tie your kimono, forcing them to fix it for you lest you both be on the receiving end of Sukuna’s wrath. Appearance is everything, didn’t you know that?
Speaking of appearances… you were pleasant enough to look at, but Sukuna had an endless sea of pleasant faces to pick from, ones that came with a bit of training, so what had drawn him to you specifically?
They couldn’t put their finger on it, and they guessed that it ultimately didn’t matter. You made their master happy, and they could tolerate you until you inevitably landed in his bad graces, and then they’d serve you up to him on a silver platter.
On the day that Sukuna had angrily called for them, they had thought you had finally done it, and had quickly come to his call with a pep in their step and a glint in their eye.
Uraume didn’t find extreme amounts of pleasure in killing others, it was simply a part of their job, but they can’t deny that the thought of being rid of you elicited a response similar to ones they got whenever Sukuna bestowed his praise unto them, something that hadn’t happened since you had wormed your way into their kingdom.
Yes, as humans say, Uraume was jealous. They were envious of the attention Sukuna gave you—and you were so greedy. You took it all and held onto it with an iron fist, scared out of your wits that he’d grow bored of you if you loosened your grip even the slightest bit, because then you’d be up for the pickings.
When Uraume finally made it to Sukuna’s quarters, the sight they were greeted with wasn’t a foreign one. He was sat on the bed, kimono pooled around him, while you kneeled between his legs, your own clothing nowhere in sight. His cocks were hard and twitching, fat dollops of pre-cum sliding down the shafts, coupled with the remnants of your saliva, or perhaps your slick.
So you had failed to please him, as many often did. One cock of that size was too much for most to handle, let alone two, and you were human, after all.
“Lord Sukuna.” Uraume drops into a deep bow, their head touching the cool floor and staying until they’re given permission to stand. “How can I assist you?” Would Sukuna have them dice you up and turn you into a nice stew? Or perhaps he’d like something a little more raw… Human meat and muscle tended to be tough and dry, if not properly prepared, but Uraume had done this for centuries, and was kept around for a reason.
They’d make you into a meal worthy of being consumed by—
“Train her on how to take me.”
Pardon?
“You.. don’t wish for me to dispose of her?” That fiery flame flickers in his eyes, and Uraume rushes out a thousand apologies, hand placed over their heart as they lower their gaze. “Forgive me for speaking out of turn, my Lord. I shall do as you ask.”
This task has never before been requested of them, and they find themself at a momentary loss as they lower themself to kneel beside you, eyes scrutinizing you while you avoid their gaze. They quickly gain their bearings.
“Do I have permission to touch her, my Lord?”
“You do.”
“Open your mouth.” You look to Sukuna for confirmation, and Uraume bristles. As if you’re so high above them that you don’t immediately do as they say, tuh. With a nod from Sukuna, you’re hesitantly opening your mouth, and they insert two fingers, the pads of them pressing down on your tongue. They ignore the way that you gag and tears spring to your eyes, your clenched fists shaking on your bare thighs.
They push their fingers in deeper, making you violently gag as your throat constricts and you quickly jerk your head back. “I see what the problem is.” Their fingers are slick with your saliva, and they just barely resist the urge to wipe it clean on their clothing, figuring that Sukuna would take it as an insult. “You’re not relaxing your throat and jaw when you take him - allow me to demonstrate.”
Uraume turns to Sukuna, a flutter in their stomach as they direct a question his way. “Permission to pleasure you, my Lord?”
“Do as you please.”
They fall into habit easily enough - hands bracing against the thick meat of his thighs, tongue swiping out to wet their lips before moving to trail up the underside of his cock before placing a wet, gentle kiss on the head, quickly giving the other the same treatment. His scent is heady, strong, and Uraume breathes him in deep before their lips are wrapping around the dark, uncut tip, jaw and throat relaxing as they take him all the way in, nose pushed into a set of wiry curls.
Uraume cuts their eyes at you, lips stretched wide around the cock in their mouth, and find that you’re watching with apt interest, thighs not so subtly rubbing together as rock back onto your heel that’s positioned underneath you.
Greedy — putting your own pleasure before Sukuna’s. It’s unacceptable, and they rectify it with a swift snatch of your hair. You’re pushed towards his neglected cock, and you’re given a moment to prepare before it’s pushed into your mouth, Uraume’s hand on the back of your neck forcing you to take him all in.
You choke and gag, the action bringing forth a deep, guttural groan from Sukuna, and Uraume watches as he brings a hand down to grip your hair at the roots, his other holding the side of your face. Uraume’s nails bite into your skin before they can stop it, and you cry out as best you can, hands pushing at Sukuna’s stomach as your tears flow freely.
You’re flailing now, and Uraume has half a mind to let you fail again, not caring if they’re on the chopping block as well, but Sukuna comes before everyone else, first and foremost.
They pull their mouth off of his cock with a wet sound, strings of saliva and pre-cum stretching from their lips to the dribbling tip, and quickly lick it away as they place their hand around your throat, right where they can see the bulge formed. “You have to calm down.” Their thumb gently rubs against your skin, voice low and as soothing as it can get as their free hand smooths down the expanse of your back and over the curve of your ass. “Breathe through your nose - yes, just like that.”
Their fingers find your cunt, wet and plump, and two easily slip inside, walls eagerly sucking them in. “Move your tongue against him, he likes it.” You make a noise of complaint, and they tighten the hand around your throat. “You now live to please him, so please him. Move your tongue or I’ll—” A violent shiver wracks their body as Sukuna’s energy spikes, and Uraume softens their voice again, fingers twisting and rubbing as they search for that special spot that always renders the most skittish, stiff women into malleable, pliant dolls.
You finally do as they say, judging by Sukuna’s reaction, and Uraume keeps up their ministrations on your cunt, fingers plunging in and out, resulting in a lewd squelch, the sound barely audible over the way you occasionally gag and moan. Their gaze trails over to Sukuna’s neglected cock, and deciding that you’re doing a decent enough job now, they move to take him back into their mouth, fingers still moving inside you.
With your previous resistance gone, Sukuna takes it upon himself to move you back and forth on his cock, veins on the back of his hand bulging as he ruts into your mouth. Uraume does well enough on their own to be exempt from the treatment, head bobbing and hand fondling at heavy, full sacs as they suck, tongue gliding along the underside of his shaft, even occasionally mushing against his tip and pushing into the slit there.
Knowing him as well as they do, Uraume knows that Sukuna will come soon, and they suck in earnest, messily slurping and swallowing as his thighs tense under their touch. You suddenly tighten around their fingers, and a glance to the side shows your lashes fluttering, your jaw slack as Sukuna pulls out of your mouth, only to push right back in and bury himself to the hilt. Uraume does the same, welcoming the spurts of cum that trail down their throat as they eagerly swallow.
Your name is on Sukuna’s tongue as he pulls out of your mouth, and Uraume watches in distaste as you cough and splutter, wasting the cum that he had so graciously shared with you, and they find themselves leaning forward before they can help themself.
Their lips collide with yours, tongue licking into your mouth as they collect the remnants of cum inside, and they ignore the way you arch into them and grab ahold of their haori, fully focused on getting every drop they can. With a gentle suck of your tongue they finally pull away, and they blink at the way you follow them, eyes lidded and hazy as you try to go for another kiss.
They let you, not wanting to incur Sukuna’s anger for denying you, and you messily kiss them, although it’s more of a mash of lips and teeth as you moan against them and pant into their mouth.
Sukuna laughs, and a warmth spreads throughout Uraume when one of four hands comes to rest atop their head. “It seems as though you’ve gained her affection - you should be honored.” Hardly.
Sukuna hauls you up into his lap, and Uraume thinks their presence is no longer needed and begins to stand, only for the hand on their head to tangle in their hair and force them to their feet. “You’re not done yet.”
Confusion swims in their eyes, but it’s quickly sated when they see that Sukuna is ready to go again, one of his cocks nestled between your folds as you pathetically hump against it, hands grasping at his shoulders as you tip your head back, moans and cries bouncing off the walls. “As you can see, she’s quite greedy.” His hand roughly gropes at your ass, and he lifts you with little effort before placing you back down on his cock. He only gets the tip in before you’re gasping and clawing at his shoulders, head fruitlessly shaking back and forth as you babble out nonsensical words. “And inexperienced. I trust that you can fix this.”
“Of course, my Lord.”
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monarchberrysblog · 4 months ago
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Hmo but
What if Miguel finds out you used to date the Harry Osborn from your world? You and Harry used to date but broke up on friendly terms but then you meet sometime where Miguel’s visiting your world for a date, and then his possessive instinct is like: She’s mine 😏
Then ✨smut✨ and ofc he has a marking kink
INTERLINKED
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credit to @r3ds_art_ on Twitter and Instagram!
✭ 🔞 Miguel O’Hara x fem! Reader ✭
✮ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: possessive (adj.) → demanding someone’s total attention and love. having the knowledge that you used to be with someone left a sour taste in miguel’s mouth. especially knowing that you are still in good terms with them to this day.
✭ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: biting kink? (idk what it’s called), cumplay (?), unprotective p-in-v, semi-exhibitionism (y'all get caught), possessive behavior (kinda?)
✭ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: +1.7k words
✭ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: mwehehehe (once again, if there are errors i apologize in advance as i felt like i read this multiple times and don't see any errors) enjoy!
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𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 | 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃
Harry was your first love. Something so fleeing that if you were to blink or glance at it, it disappeared instantly. It blurred into your life the way acrylic colors blended to create a clash of colors like a summer evening in July. It was all tangy and sweet, with a scalding, sweaty undertone. Beautiful yet uncomfortable to endure.
He was sweet, resembling a sweet syrup in any refresher you would get in a coffee shop. Sweet, yet messy. The sap wasn't noticeable until it became unbearable to have in between your fingers.
Enduring the sappy-like texture on the tip of your fingers, wiping the mess clean from your skin, bonding with Henry became inevitable. You didn't want to let him go, but it was for the better for each other.
But after growing out of each other, things ended with a silver lining—growing and learning within a long distance from each other.
Then, you met Miguel.
Another man from another dimension.
Meeting someone from another world was not on your bucket list, let alone in the span of goals you had for the next few years or so. But Miguel managed to tergiversate his way into your plans (and heart). He fit right into your life like a puzzle piece you didn't know was missing.
And you love it.
/
“Is your dish okay? Because if it isn't, I can send it back and—” You fade his rambles with a gentle touch on his hand. “Yes, it's perfect Migs. Thank you.” The sound of cutlery clicking on the white ceramic plates complimented the ambiance of the warm-lit dining area.
Small chatter created a cozy environment that made anyone lull to sleep. “And please, don't yell at the chef like last time.” You forcefully giggle and can almost imagine the events playing out like a storyboard.
“They didn't give you the grilled chicken fillet.” He grumbles, looking away from his dish and to the side, keeping his gaze on the maroon carpet. “Hey,” You gently cupped his cheek, disregarding your silverware. “It’s okay. Sometimes, we make mistakes on off days. It's nothing new.”
“I know,” He pouts. “I just want you to have a warm meal.”
“And I'm grateful for your well-being. Just don't yell at the chef and make them cry again. Please.” You plead, gently rubbing his cheekbone with the pad of your thumb. “…okay.” He grumbles in defeat, taking your hand away from his face and gently holding your hand with a reassuring squeeze.
“I won’t.”
/
You worked on your dish, taking in pasta forkfuls and grilled chicken. Miguel keeps a close eye while eating his dish, savoring his fillet mignon. You basked in the silence, probably in your little world while with him. But a single greeting broke the mellow silence. “Hey,”
It wasn't just a simple “Hey” to get someone’s attention. Instead, it was an exasperated one. The exhale is a sign of relief—the relief of seeing someone familiar after a long period of time. A sigh that read, “Oh, it's been a while; I missed seeing you..”
Miguel’s head turned for him without his brain enabling his thought process. “Oh, hey, Harry.” You smile, showing off your little dimples to him. “What brings you here?” Harry makes his way over to the two of you, unaware of the daggers that Miguel was throwing at him. “I’m here with Miguel. My boyfriend.”
Harry turns his attention to your aggravated partner, oblivious to the aura Miguel sent. “Already moved on? That was fast.”
Not an amusing joke, even for Harry. He lets out a forced laugh, hoping to drown out the awkward air around them—it only made it more suffocating to be in that bubble. “It's been a couple of years.” You laughed, trying to ease the unsteady environment. But it was laughable beyond that point.
While exchanging words, Harry’s wavering eyes remained on you, taking in every feature about you. “You work here?” You ask as you look up at Harry. “As a server only.”
Your smile, cute dimples, everything caught Harry’s attention. It felt like he was looking at the playing field and wondering if he was about to get to second base. The conversation dragged like a snail, going slowly for Miguel.
“But it was nice seeing you.” The only best solution was stepping on the awkward waters rising as Harry nodded and sighed. “Yes, it was nice seeing you too. But let me know if you guys need anything.” With a simple nod, he walks off almost in a rushed manner.
/
“Jesus.” Miguel was now away from the warm dining area of the restaurant and now in the men’s room. He stood in the handicap stall momentarily, burying his face into his palms. The last thing he needed to happen was for you to lecture him on his behavior, especially now that Harry had dropped by unannounced.
“You’re exaggerating, you're exaggerating.” He repeats the mantra, sounding like a possessed man. If anyone were to walk in, some eye brows would have been raised. But after repeating the phrase a couple more times, he stops and rubs his eyes, much to his doctor's dismay about the habit.
“It's fine.” He thinks, reaching for the stall door to step out. But the sound of a familiar voice and a different voice enter the washroom. “Who was that woman who you greeted earlier?”
“An ex,” Harry states matter of factly.
“You miss her, don't you?” The other voice inquires as if they anticipated drama. “I've seen the way you look at her.” The other voice adds. “Yeah, but just as friends! It's been a while since we last spoke.”
A little, just a little?
“But she's with someone else.” Harry stumbles his words, attempting to redeem his words.
“And you don't seem okay with that.” A lingering silence suffocates space immediately. A sigh from Harry fills the space, shattering the awkwardness.
“I'm okay with it. I just miss her company.”
The corner of Miguel’s lip subtly twitches, a sign of irritation. He waits, waiting for the two men to finish their discussion. It wasn't until ten minutes later that they finally left. Almost as if he were following behind, Miguel steps out of the stall silently, feeling his senses get overwhelmed with his typical possessive return once again.
/
“Keep it down for me, bebe. Can you do that for me?” He bites down on your neck and nibbles on your skin. The flat of his tongue lathers against the bite crevices, soothing the dull, aching pain. “Your canines…” Your comment fell silent before his lips kissed the now red mark against your flesh before his hands worked quickly to raise the hem of your skirt. “Shhh, we don't need to get kicked out, do we?” He whispers. The family bathroom immediately got filled with scuffles and moving around of clothes. His ring and pointer finger ghost at your clothed cunt, dragging the tips of his fingers down your entrance, feeling the dampness.
“I just bit you, and you’re all riled up? Pobrecita.” He pouts to you and slowly moves the gusset of your underwear to the side gently with a tug. “Just keep it down for me, okay? Can you do that for me?” His gentle movements drew out soft whines and moans from your mouth like word vomit while his fingers traced your entrance, drawing out your glistening arousal.
"Just be quiet for me," he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, helping himself to another bite of your soft skin. He follows his fingers, delving into your fluttering wall, eagerly taking his fingers in. "Shhh..." The sound of wet, sticky gushes fills the family room bathroom, with your mess dripping down onto the floor and occasionally on the bathroom wall.
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, occasionally feeling his two fingers curl slightly. You bit down on your bottom lip, humming out your pleasure to the rhythm of his finger moving in and out.
"Don't make a mess, I don't want you to ruin my watch."
The soft thrusting of his fingers moved rapidly, pulling his fingers out completely before shoving his fingers back into your needy pussy. The rapid thrusts became too much, releasing your mess along with your cum all over the floor before you. "Ay, ya te dije." He pulls his fingers out, shaking his hand dry and lifting you up on the sink counter. "I told you to not make a mess." He put a resting finger against your fluttering core, lightly pushing down to soothe the stretch.
"Spread for me a bit, nena." He whispers and grasps onto your thighs, helping you. You could already imagine the mess you left behind the counter, leaving a glistening mess on the marble. You open up for him with a meek "Okay." You feel your legs trembling against the cold marble. You watch on as Miguel hurries to take off his pants, shoving the pants down quickly and dragging you close to his aching member.
A soft moan escaped your lips, feeling his length rub against your core and clit, lightly thrusting his length in between your entrance. "Let me just prepare myself," He whispers, slowly collecting your slick against his length. You let out a whine before you let out a moan, feeling his tip occasionally slip in between your folds. He thrusted his tip in a couple more times before he continued to grind his length against your clit.
“There we go. Let’s get you comfortable.” He whispers into your ear before he slowly pushes himself in, earning a loud moan from you. He immediately covered your mouth, muffling your beautiful sounds.
“Shh, be good and keep it down.” He whispers while gently pushing his tip against your cervix, occasionally earning a soft cry in pain. You felt him slowly pull out and keep a gentle pace. “Is that better, nena?” He croons into your ear. He grinds his length into you, trying to keep your moans and mews at a limit.
“So good, cariño.” He whispers. “Come on, hold on for a while.” His fingers trace the soft red marks on your neck, putting pressure to soothe the pain.
“I want us to be in here for a moment.”
/
The two of y'all rushed out of the bathroom, getting chased out of the restaurant by two servers. “And get out of here! Never come back!” They yell out as soon as the two of you scurry out while adjusting your clothes. You exchanged breathy laughs with each other when you felt the cold air nip at your skin.
“I told you to keep it down.”
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bambiesfics · 1 year ago
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⊹ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭 ⊹
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warning: water-sports, extreme overstimulation, graphic depictions of lesbian smut, r!receiving finger bang, sarcastic Ellie, fluff + loving at the end.
vague description: reader has a full bladder and is trapped in Ellie William’s hatchback.
author’s note: re-upload of my fic from last blog, also don’t read this in public. It gets intense.
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“Pinup paradise diner…home to… ‘The World’s Bustiest Milkshake Jars?’”
You read, with your face nosed deep into the crease of the monotoned map. You deflated back into your seat, irritated at the amount of eye-strain required to make out such small font. And let the roadmap blanket the top of your thighs.
“Is that where we’re going next?”
Ellie's eyes were intently focused on the red Honda Civic in front of her, the one she’d almost rolled her windows down to spit at, less than a minute ago. Her stacked bracelets clinked as she cracked the knuckles of each one of her boney fingers.
“Is that what it says on the map?”
You flipped back to the legend, squinting at the list of diners, drive-ins, and street trucks. The corner of her plump smile quirked, hearing you mutter,
“Jesus, how do you read this thing?”
Your squint jumped between Ellie and the page, “uhhhh…yes?—yes!”
“Then that’s where we’re going next.” She crudely cracked her pinky last. The last finger with chips of black nail polish speckled on it and a snug silver braided ring that hugged it. She settled into her seat, merging onto the left lane.
“Pinup Paradise? Really? Seems like an odd choice for a drink after going to Whopping Wrap.”
You flipped the map neatly back onto your lap as your girlfriend flicked the blinker up.
“Milkshakes after chicken wraps Ellie? Really?”
“Hey—Tommy said they have the best milkshakes this side of the state. That type of man, the fucking lumberjack he is, does not fuck around when it comes to satiating that gnarly sweet tooth.”
She muttered “He probably has cavities bigger and darker than the cracks in the Grand Canyon.”
And your tiny giggle teased a smile out of Ellie, as she half-heartedly blocked the swats you struck at her with the rolled up map.
Your girlfriend got such a fucked up kick out of busting Tommy’s balls, and he knew it too.
She flicked the signal light up higher once more and cruised right into the strip mall lane that led the car through to the drive-thru, the diner growing closer each second.
In a smooth slow crawl you and your girlfriend rolled towards ‘Pinup Paradise Diner.’
A canary yellow, vintage diner, littered with paintings of 50’s pinup models that decorated all of the glass windows.
A drive-thru swinging sign read ‘The World’s Bustiest Milkshake!’ above the order window.
You were incredibly humored, noting all the double entendres and puns that weaved through the slogans graffitied across the menu board and windows.
A young crew member poked her head out of the order window, smiling tightly before asking for both of your orders. She watched on while Ellie fished for her peeling leather wallet in the back pocket, and poked her head out of the side of the hatchback window.
“Hey, can I grab a blueberry crust milkshake? And she’ll have….” Ellie trailed off, shooting you back a look with her eyebrow raised.
“…What’ll you have?”
“I’ll have a vanilla bean milkshake please. Also could I get a bottled water, if you have that?”
“Okay, so right now we only have the 1 liter sized bottled water.. would that be alright?”
“Ah, I’m sure that’s no problem, I’ll take it. Thank youuu.” you sang, and the girl mirrored your gentle smiled. You settled back into your seat and she closed the window.
“Why’d you get water?”
Ellie observed, hastily touching up her upper and bottom lashes with mascara, in the dash mirror, before she had to put her foot on the gas.
Vain. You teased in your head.
….But so pretty.
The mascara made her already long lashes, even longer. Her dark brown eyeliner was smudged, yet the grittiness was still so attractive on her. “You should wear brown eyeliner more Els. It really brings out the green in your eyes.”
She side-eyed you suspiciously.
“Thanks?…”
And you rolled your eyes. Your girlfriend loved to pretend she was allergic to compliments unless they were talking about her earth-shattering service top abilities.
Ellie grabbed both your milkshakes. And used her teeth to rip the paper cover off her straw while passing you your drink.
She put her foot on the gas and peeled out.
“You still didn’t answer the question.”
“What question?”
“The question of what possessed you to buy an entire liter of water?”
“Because like, you know the sweet aftertaste left in your mouth after you eat something really sweet? I don’t know, but it makes my mouth feel dry.”
“Ah.” she responded.
“…that’s actually real as fuck.”
“Right?” You settled deeper into your seat. Hugging the milkshake to your chest while you stalked a few instagram stories, relaxing into the rhythmic roll of your girlfriend's beat up hatchback.
Townhouses and parked SUV’s started running on either side of the car as Ellie drove on, deeper into suburbia. You pushed yourself up to gaze out the window.
“Where are we going?”
Ellie turned right into a smaller street.
“To find a place to park. I’m tired of driving.”
“Hmm, sorry baby” you hummed as you rubbed her thigh. Your eyes lit up. “Then can I drive your ca—”
“—no. When will you stop asking?”
“When you finally let me drive it? Let me behind the wheel please.”
She scoffed, eyeing you up and down. “So I can end up with my knees touching the back of my skull? Yeah no.”
“You’re not funny Ellie.”
“And you’re the only passenger princess I’ve seen whining to do her girlfriend's job. Be a lady, damn.”
You broke down laughing, clutching your chest while Ellie bit her lip down to put a lid on her own laughter.
You shimmied close to her, your breasts squishing her upper arm.
“Then can I have some of your blueberry shake?”
She circled the straw around your mouth and made you chase it.
“uh ah-uh-hah—Ellie.” You whined.
Ellie barked a laugh at how adorable you looked, and then slotted the straw onto your puckered mouth.
“Mmm…”
“You like?”
“Yeah it’s so yummy. I should’ve gotten that instead.”
Ellie attempted to take her milkshake back, but with some struggle as you leaned further and further into her seat, pressing your front body into her arms just to keep tasting it. You were practically finished your own drink, and were now drinking half of hers. And in that moment you recalled at all the previous times your girlfriend had gripped your ass and whispered how you were a greedy little princess in your ear. Ellie was an asshole through and through.
But she spoiled you, and she loved doing it.
You eased back, and Ellie stole her milkshake back. She circled her tongue around the tip of the straw before sucking it. Wrapping her pink lips around the sticky tip your rosy lip gloss had covered seconds prior.
You dropped your empty cup in the cup holder and went to chug most of your water. It provided an indescribable amount of relief from the saccharine blanket on your tastebuds. A cool feeling that settled in you, as Ellie pulled into a grassy park parking lot.
Willow trees lined up along the curb, their weeping pose provided shade to several lots, including the one above you.
Ellie killed off the engine. She tipped her head against the headrest in relief. She flexed her fingers, stretching out the kinks, feeling the breeze run past.
Her head lolled limply to face you. “Do I really look that good in brown eyeliner?”
“Yes you really do.”
Ellie’s cheek dimpled.
“I love when you tell me stuff like that.”
“Like what? That you look pretty?”
You murmured into her shoulder, looking up at her.
“Yeah, makes me feel…dunno, not like a greasy loser.”
“Please, as if I would ever let a greasy loser bag me.”
Ellie rolled her eyes. “Jesus, kill yourself.”
She maintained eye contact with you, green eyes jumping between your own. Reflecting the amber beauty of the sun in its sparkle. She gave you a soft smile, you gave Ellie one back. A truce to the constant teasing. And Ellie took it as an invitation to dip her head down, and pull your lips into a kiss. One she’d been yearning to do since she’d first reversed both of you out of your driveway.
Ellie chased the kiss into the back seat. She gripped the fat of your hips to inch you slowly off of the center console and towards the back. She followed, kicking her loose driver’s seat forward with the sole of her sneakers. The slide adjusting rail had seen better days, and had been owned by better people than the currently horny, blunt, ungraceful young lesbian who had an avid penchant for violence, that owned it that day.
Ellie teased her hand up from your hips to the base of your neck, to grab the back of your head as she worked her puffy lips against yours. She was hungry for your little mouth, and it was seen in the way her jaw flexed.
Ellie kissed you with a remarkably intense eroticism.
Her hands ran down over the fabric of your milkmaid top before ripping the holes away from the buttons to let your tits spill out right into her hands. Each nipple immediately kissed the waiting pads of her thumbs, as they moved to greedily massage the sensitive head. Grazing each of your puffy tender domes over and over. “Fuck, need to suck these heavy tits baby.”
Ellie’s lips made their way down your chest. She suckled some swollen red marks into the skin, before making her way lower. Coming eye to eye with your nipples.
“Can you please squeeze your boobies together?”
You took your palms and pushed them together. Ellie's whiny sigh sent heat pooling in your tummy. She leaned in, licking a greedy stripe across both nipples, tickling their head with the tip of her tongue, tonguing the flesh around both areolas. And suckling your nipples intermittently then popping off them. Leaving both of them so puffed out.
Your squeaks filled the expanse of her small car, and her aroused groans joined to match.
She shoved her fingers in the waistband of your tiny denim shorts and tugged at them. They budged, but barely, so you helped your girlfriend. You lifted your ass off the seat and slid your shorts and thong down your thighs, before Ellie slid them the rest of the way off your ankles and threw them in the front seat.
The soft breeze blew past your cunt. Exposing the warm skin to a cooler environment.
“S-should we be doing this in a park?” you squeeked.
Ellie kissed her answer on your lips “there’s” *smooch* “no one” *smooch* “here.” As she shoved her hand down to palm the fat of your vagina. Feeling your pussy fill up her fingers. Ellie curled a middle finger into your tight hole, it barely wanted to split apart to accommodate her finger. But she marveled at how hungrily it sucked her in. She pumped shallowly before adding in her ring finger.
Her chrome ring grazed the swelling mound inside your hole; your g-spot. And it pulled a pathetic mewl out of you. She curled her wrist up, ligament appearing. And pumped harder. Enjoying your shaking thighs in the air.
Your brain was melting into mush. And all you managed were barely coherent babbles.
“…feels ss-s'good” your eyes were rolled backwards.
“God bunny…” Ellie marveled, “your pretty pussy’s so greedy.”
Ellie’s teeth dug into her lip “How did I bag you?”
All you could muster were delirious squeak noises in response as you tugged on the base of her ponytail.
“Look-look down” Ellie’s fingers grasped your chin, pulling your eyes away from her flushed aroused face and towards your own shiny pussy. “L-look at how you’re swallowing my fingers.”
Ellie’s forehead knocked against yours.
“Hey…c-can you squeeze for me?”
You never disobeyed her instructions, not when you both were like this. Nodding limply, you clamped around Ellie’s fingers, a choked moan escaped you. And a deep, throaty groan escaped her. Feeling how tightly you suckled in her fingers, how badly you wanted her there, made a warm heat throb between Ellie’s legs and left her boxers sticking to her sloppy cunt. Ellie could almost cry that she couldn’t bully a cock inside you, just to feel that desperate clamp around her cock.
Her ring pushed into your plump inner walls over and over, and dragged a new delicious zing of pleasure through the ribbed inner walls. Puffy, swollen, and sloppy with slick.
Ellie had a newfound resistance in her thrusting, the clamping, warm grip of your puffed out walls were holding her fingers still. But she kept pumping, like a suction cup being stuck on and popped off.
You were assaulted with thrilling pleasure from your walls clamping, chasing the press of her jewelry. And from your girlfriends frenzied, desperate thrusting. Ellie was just as hazy brained as you.
It was a costly mistake. All of the fluttering was stimulating your pelvic muscles. Which stimulated the other tiny hole snuggled in your pussy. The familiar pressure of a full bladder pressed behind the teeny hole of your urethra. Your squeaks came out strained. You scooted into different positions on the seat, trying to ebb away the pressure.
The shifting positions only made it worse as your tummy squished from movement, and as Ellie pumped upwards.
She jack hammered her fingertips against the puffy roof of your warm cunt. Her feverish ministrations put so much pressure on your bladder. You choked out a breathy plea.
Your hands skated up your girlfriend's torso, past her exposed waist and pebbled nipples that strained against her t-shirt, and finally towards her square shoulders in an attempt to push her back.
She needed off.
“I gotta…uhn… I gotta.” you whimpered.
“What was that?” Ellie sighed.
“I-ah!” The thrust felt so good.
You were whiny “th-think I needa pee.”
“I’m fucking you so good it’s got you confusing cumming for peeing? Y’so adorable it’s insane.” Ellie kissed your lips, picking up her pace.
She took the hand she’d used to squeeze and pinch your tits and brought it down to press on your lower tummy, as she thrust up.
Oh.
“Nnnnhnhn no! ph-please ewwie.. can’t—hold it.” You babbled the same desperate plea incoherently, but with a mouth nearly paralyzed from the incessant abuse of your hole Ellie was doing, you were left whiny and gulping, babbling tiny sentences at a time.
Sweat pricked at your skin, an orgasm was fucked into your vagina, and a full bladder pressed at your urethra. You didn’t know what to do as the mounting climax forced against your urethra left you with a desperate need for release, in the car.
Ellie’s lips kissed your jaw, snuggling against your head.
“You wanna let it out, big girl? Make a big mess f’me. We can clean it all up later, I promise.”
“nuh—ah Ellie no no…aghh! ”
Your urethra let out a thin light spurtle. Settling into the space between you two as more slick gushed out of your hole. You sobbed through your orgasm, from the joint pleasure of climax combined with relief from pressure pressing against your urethra. Ellie kept fingering you through each tiny pump of liquid that squirted from your urethra and through each contraction of its sloppy wet vagina, as slick spilled out of you and ran past your bare ass, onto her leather seats. With each aggressive thrust of Ellie’s fingers—fuck in—pull out—came out spurt after spurt, from each hole. She slowed down once you fell back into the seat softly; boneless and glass-eyed. Like an abused rag doll.
You both caught your breaths, Ellie from the aggressive thump and heat in her pussy. And you from your ‘accident’.
Ellie watched as the looming embarrassment creeped every so slowly onto your face, as the orgasm slowly ebbed away. She placed shaky kisses on top of your head. Cupping the back of it in support.
Sure, maybe her car wasn’t the best time to explore that kink. Seeing as the bottom half of her shirt and her belt was wet.
But she wasn’t going to let her girlfriend curl in on herself in shame, just because of her body’s natural reaction. Especially one that Ellie practically fucked out of you.
If not for the small space of the car she might’ve pulled you into her lap, to kiss away the upset creases between your brows. But she could do nothing more than hover above your trembling body, and caress your squished tummy with her free hand, until the shaking eased.
She was breathless. “You did so good, baby.”
You shoved your face into the crook of Ellie’s neck. The sweet cologne on the collar of her shirt calmed you down, with its medley of gourmands, lavender and florals.
Your girlfriend had a way of grounding you. Everything about Ellie had the ability to. From her cold, icy fingers, to her soft, pine scented hair. To her woodsy cologne, always left on the collar of her shirts, ready to tranquilize your unrest.
“nuh-uh I—.”
“—So good. My good girl, doing exactly what I tell you too, c’mere.”
Ellie unplugged her fingers out from your hole and suckled the last bit of slick cream off, then swiped it on her shirt. She licked her lips. Using her now clean hand to cup the side of your jaw and draw you into a heated kiss that left both of you trembling.
You shifted positions in the seat from discomfort.
“You still need to pee s’more?”
“No.”
“Babe…”
“Maybe.”
Ellie reached over and opened your door, then hopped out from her side. Jogging over to shield your body.
You crouched in behind her, her and the car towered over you from both sides.
You pouted up at her, and she glowered down at you. Her arms crossed firmly as she looked away briefly to scan around the area. Before parking her gaze back down at you as the remaining stream from your bladder emptied itself.
“No more vanilla bean milkshakes.” you winced at the feeling of the breeze tickling your swollen labia.
“Of course. Yeah, that was the real culprit. Not the mega-giant 1 liter water bottle.”
You frowned.
Ellie’s arms dropped from their cross, and her black fingernails pinched the fat of your cheek and pulled teasingly.
She reassured you.
“Yeah sure, we’ll blame it on the vanilla bean milkshake.”
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aereasrage · 5 months ago
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The Favorite.
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summary: Alicent has always loved her youngest daughter most. Too much, perhaps. — This is intended to focus on the relationship between Alicent and daughter!reader but will eventually dive into some Jace x reader (maybe some Baela x reader too idk yet) and platonic!yan green family in the following parts.
cw: codependent mother-daughter relationship, mentions of childbirth, pregnancy, alicent is on some weird shit about her favorite child, platonic!yan!alicent
notes: reader is said to resemble alicent, as in her hair and eye color.
word count: 2.7k
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When Queen Alicent ended her labors, exhausted, delirious and filled with an anticipatory dread she’d come to know was unavoidable; she heard the maester say, “a healthy princess, my queen.” She had grimaced then as the child’s cries filled the air but the babe was pushed into her limp arms which almost refused her. There, laid upon her breast, was her daughter…with features so like hers. It felt unreal, she had been prepared to bear another princeling with a smattering of fuzzy silver hair to form his crown. To remind her of whom their sire was. But as you laid against her, cooing irritably at the noise in the room and squinting at her with those eyes she knew so well, she fell in love. Weakly, in her milk of the poppy haze, she thought on the moments of her pregnancy where she’d felt so uncomfortable, so ready for the babe to leave and return her body to her. It could be said that in that moment it was the rush of hormones and the dregs of milk of the poppy still ravaging her system but suddenly, regretted those feelings sorely. No, she should have cherished the time when you were safely tucked away for herself. When you were more hers than you’d ever be again.
She held onto that for years. The ache of separateness she’d never felt for any one of her children before. The love for her other children had always come so late in comparison. With you, it was so easy.
Until it wasn’t so. You hadn’t yet flowered but you’d grown so fast. The ache intensified, the stirring need to have you back where you belonged, closer to her heart — very nearly killed her every time she saw you. Even so, she would still rather be with you than your siblings. She couldn’t be with you as much as she had when you were but a babe and she could take you anywhere in her arms without scrutiny. She was preoccupied with the needs and antics of your elder siblings who always seemed to be in need of something they could not or otherwise would not give themselves. It was exhausting. The ache was a reprieve in itself from the monumental exhaustion of dealing with your, though beloved to be sure, very high maintenance siblings. It was pleasant. Everything about being a mother was as tender as a wound, it could never be wholly pleasant. But there was something so addictive in it when it was you. She never felt so close to the Mother as when she held you.
In your chambers just after you’ve bathed and dressed in your nightgown, she arrived at the side of your bed to kiss your forehead gently, a gesture reserved for you. “Tell me what you’ve learned from your Septa today,” she softly instructed, stroking your hair. It has gotten so long, so soft and so lovely to twirl about her fingers. It’s a habit she developed. “Did you practice your letters?”
You nodded, looking up at her. “Yes, she says I’ve gotten much better.”
“Good job,” she praised, a soft smile on her lips. “Perhaps I don't have to read to you nearly as much now.” A lie. She'd read to you until the end of the world, even if you no longer needed her to, so long as she can be near you. Her eyes slipped shut momentarily, a quiet sigh escaping her lips as her hands continued to stroke your hair in a lulling rhythm.
You pouted slightly, in a way she might've reprimanded you for, had you been your elder sister. "But I like you reading to me."
You feel her arms wrap around you, folding you into her embrace, unable to resist. “Would you like me to read now?” she murmurs, kissing the top of your head, breathing in the scent of your freshly washed, still slightly dampened hair.
"Yes, please." So pleasing and charming you were when you said it. Oh, she could hardly get your siblings to simply mutter the words meaninglessly!
"Very well," she said softly, but the warmth in her voice made it more than a simple 'yes', her other children would never know she could offer anything but a resigned, "here" that came with an exasperated sigh. She settled in next to you.
"What shall it be tonight?" She asked, her thumb stroking your cheek, her voice holding a level of patience that could only come from the love she has for you. "The Seven Pointed Star?" You hummed your assent.
She opened the tome, her eyes scanning the words for a moment before she begins.
"The Seven Who Are One…" Your mother's voice sung out in a soft lilt, the words soft, the pace measured and gentle. As she speaks you feel yourself relaxing, and falling deeper into her embrace. You could lose yourself with her. Your eyes closed as she read on. Her words fell into a rhythm and her voice carries a soothing tune. You feel drawn inward. The world is just you and your mother.
Alas, she’d had to leave you after you fell asleep, to check on her other, more tumultuous children. It was a mournful fact that because you were her youngest and regardless of being her most beloved, she was still forced to give less of her time to you. But she returned before you woke and when you opened your eyes, your mother was there sitting beside you in your bed. “Good morning, sweetling.” she said, and she snuggled you in her arms, just holding you. She gazed at you, studying your face. “You slept for a while, it is already late morning, I wasn’t sure if you would wake.”
“Good morning.” You rubbed at your tired eyes. “I slept deeply, I suppose…” you muttered.
Alicent knew this. Of course she did, she was watching you for a while. “You've always slept heavily. Even as a babe, you would fall sound asleep with just a bit of rocking.” A small smile curled at her lips, her voice soft and motherly. “I used to worry that you’d never awaken, when you were a babe. I could never tell the difference between your sleeping and your death.”
That earned her a small, dreamy smile from your lips. “You were fussing over me even then?”
Her ensuing laughter was rich, and her eyes crinkling at the edges. “Oh, my sweetling, of course I was.” Her tone grew more serious then, and she pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I worried for you every single day.”
“You worry now.”
“I know. And I know you think me foolish, but I do.” Her voice held the weight of her heart, the weight of years of anxiety. She strokes your hair, her hands gentle as they run through your locks. “I know you're nearly a woman grown, but I cannot help it. You are my daughter, my youngest. My little one.”
“I would not wish to leave your side,” you tried to assure her.
She sighed. “I would be wroth to see you ever leave my side. I cannot stomach it.” She kisses the top of your head. “I don’t know how I will do it if you are wed outside of our house. I feel my heart break just thinking of it.”
“Mine as well.” It was true, you truly could not imagine being away from your mother’s side. You did not particularly desire either of your silly elder brothers but the idea of marrying them held a certain comfort as it meant you’d get to stay with your mother. You were certain to die if you had to leave her behind.
“They tell me not to dote upon you, and to prepare you for life. But I can only see you as my child. I suppose I will forever.” She looked at you with a somewhat haunted expression, and her hand moved to cup your cheek.
“I enjoy you doting on me. Your company is a comfort.”
"I am glad," she smiled, her fingers threading through your hair. "When I'm not around, I worry that the world will be harsh to you, that it will swallow you whole and break you. I did not have…my mother with me when I left my home for good. But you have me. You are mine, and I wish to keep you safe."
She bit her lip before continuing. “I would have kept you in my womb until we turned to dust, would that I could. I know it is foolish but I miss it terribly. There we had nothing to fear. I protected you from the outside. You lived in a realm of safety, of comfort. No one could ever touch you there. No one could ever hurt you."
The concept intrigued you. The life you led, of scrutiny and pending obligation, could leave you feeling so exposed, a wound open to the air. “The world is much too loud now that I’m in it. I do miss being so close to you.” You obviously couldn't remember, not like she did, but you could imagine. You could imagine yourself curled into her, held by her, never needing anything but that...and the thought was an enticing one.
“I miss it more,” Alicent whispers. Tears welled in her eyes. “I know it is foolish of me, but when I see a woman with a child in her belly, I cannot help but be reminded of you, I cannot help but envy her.” Her voice was sullen, her gazed fixed on you. “I miss those kicks against my womb, and I miss the way you would curl into yourself. I wish I could bring us back.” Revising history is something the queen has gotten quite good at doing, she cannot recall— or at least won’t admit to, those same feelings of helplessness, lethargy and slight dissociation that had returned with each pregnancy. All of it has been replaced, memories tinged in the feeling of yearning she carries now.
“It would be just us two,” you whispered, your chest tightening slightly with an unfortunate longing to return to her.
"Forever. That would have been a very good life, my sweetling. A peaceful one." A tear trickled down her cheek, this time, though, she did not even try to wipe it away. You reached out to wipe her tear away, delicately with your thumb and the gesture was so soft, she thinks. Softer than any touch she had ever felt. It overwhelmed her to the point of trembling.
“Thank you.” Her voice was slightly raspy. You are truly beautiful to her in the candlelight, and even though you are a girl almost grown, she still sees you as the babe you were when you were first pushed into her arms, so many nights ago. “You have a very soft touch."
“Of course, I learned from you,” you said easily and Alicent had to look closely at your expression to be certain you aren’t just being jovial at her expense. But she was relieved and vaguely ashamed to find that you are entirely sincere without a hint of irony in all of your being.
She was speechless for a moment. Alicent was no longer gentle, she didn’t think she had that in her anymore. Her whole being felt sharp, ready to bleed. Even with her own children, she was seldom the mother she’d have imagined herself to be before she was married, especially with Aegon who she so struggled to even want to be gentle with. She’d forgotten that all the gentleness she possessed was not lost but had simply been redirected into you. It shamed her, it relieved her.
She decided that it was true, even if later she’d be deep her self loathing and rebuke the notion. For now, your softness was owed to the kind of mother she’d been to you. “That is true.” She laughed softly, feeling the high of your praise overwhelm her wariness. Her hands returned to playing in your hair, wafting the scent of soap and the warm musk of your skin toward her. Oh, that scent…When she come to visit your chambers just after you left them, she’d smell your pillows, your sheets, unable to help herself. It always unlocked some beastly sort of satisfaction inside her. She had even saved a little gown of yours from when you were a babe, unwilling to part with the scent of your skin. Back then, she’d attributed it to you being so young, to the bodily mysteries of a mother still fresh from labor but it had lingered. “You have such a sweet smell, my girl. I have always loved your scent.”
“I know. My handmaid told me you used to smell me a lot when I was a babe.”
So her strangeness had not gone unnoticed. “That I did. The smell of your sweet skin…” You could tell she got lost in a memory for a bit, and her face grew nostalgic. “I loved your scent so much. There was nothing like it.”
“Every day, I would smell your skin. I would kiss your cheeks and your little fingers…” Her words trailed off as she smiled, remembering. “You still have the same scent now. I would know it anywhere.”
“You were enamored with me,” you said, grinning as you stretched out in bed like a lazy cat.
She laughed softly. “I really was. You were a beautiful babe, so perfect and delicate in my eyes. I never wanted to let you out of my sight.” She remembered her father admonishing her for refusing to leave you with the maids, her near in tears trying to make him understand that this was different and him simply not willing to understand how the love of a fourth child, a girl, could have driven his daughter so utterly mad.
“I know. Grandsire says you took me everywhere with you.”
“That I did,” she confirmed, sighing softly. “I did not want anyone else to hold you.”
“Why not?” You had yet to truly address the severity of your mother’s preoccupation with you. To you, it was only love. You could not understand its implications or its logic.
“Because I did not trust anyone else with you.” She whispered. “I could not bear the thought of even leaving you with a maid, not for long anyway. You are my child, and I did not want anyone but me to care for you or see to your needs.”
“Oh, but it must have been such work!”
“All children are work, a lot of it,” she insisted. “But you were— you are a good kind of work. You gave me something to focus on besides all my other obligations. You were my little princess, always with me, and always wanting my attention. It was tiring, but I would not have had it any other way.” You made her feel the kind of love her first chance at motherhood should have brought her. You made her feel like a mother in the way the gods intended.
“That is very sweet.” It was more than sweet. It warmed your heart to hear from your mother that the work she has put into raising you, into keeping you — she saw it all as worth the trouble.
“It’s the truth. I have never loved anything more than you.”
“I’m glad for it. Glad to be deserving of it.”
Oh, your sweet little heart! Her hand cupped your face, and her fingers stroked your soft, delicate cheek, her eyes meeting yours. “You are far greater than deserving. You were perfect when you arrived, and you only became more beautiful as you grew older.”
You looked down, slightly bashful. “You’re beautiful too, mother.”
Your words bring on the fiercest of longing. Tears of joy and perhaps bitterness trickled from her eyes. "You are the sweetest daughter a mother could ask for. I love you so very much."
She is near breaking into a fit of sobs, breathing deeply to calm herself, blinking away her tears before she speaks again. "Sometimes I wish I could turn back time, and have those days again. The days where we could be wrapped up in each other, and the world was just us two."
And as your eyes light at the words, she cannot resist anymore. She brings you into her arms, your head resting against her breasts and her leaning down to kiss your head, breathing in your smell yet again. In a few years at latest, she’d wed you to one of your brothers and keep you safe within her watch. Then everything would be alright, you’d be safe only when there was promise you could stay with her forever.
“No matter,” she murmured against your hair, trying to soothe herself back into dignity. “Mother will protect you even now.”
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