#like. stop being so fucking sensitive and accept that you and your belly that hangs a little over your waistband can be fucking hot

[sunsoak]

Oh here they go again with the stop fetishizing fat people when all the post ever implied was that fat people can be sexy not in spite of their fat but because of it

#literally not to be mean but I’m gonna be mean. you need to accept your body more. #i used to get really offended by these things bc i hated the implication that i was a fat person and i didn’t want to accept that i was fat #and didn’t want to accept compliments about my body that are things only fat people have like a big tummy #there is no reason to feel that way. there’s a pretty obvious difference between fetishization and appreciation that i can see now #there are so so so many things about skinny bodies that are appreciated and complimented that fat people just don’t have #and no one ever seems to get offended about these things #like. stop being so fucking sensitive and accept that you and your belly that hangs a little over your waistband can be fucking hot #in the same way that a waistband might hang off a skinnier persons hip bones is sexy. like they’re both sexy and hot. #neither is better than the other they’re just both sexy things that bodies can do no matter their size #just whatever. accept your body more. accept the fact that ur fat and u can be sexy for it.

[dawnagustd]

the misfit toymaker || myg

The queen has made her list and checked it twice. She’s visiting those who have been naughty, and punishing them in ways that are oh so nice.

- Part of the Unholy Night Series.     

➻ title: the misfit toymaker  ➻ pairing: toymaker!yoongi x f!reader  ➻ genre: fantasy | holiday | magic | smut  ➻ word count: 1.8k  ➻ rating: 18+   ➻ warnings: unprotected sex | infidelity | soft dom!yoongi | sub!reader | Sir kink | controlled orgasms | big dick!yoongi but wbk | slight edging | spitting/spit play | belly bulging | sex toys(swings, vibrators, suctions) | creampie | cum play | rough sex | light impact play | dirty talk | degradation | dungeons | bdsm | pet names | fingering | multiple orgasms | crying (the sexy kind) | rejection(i’m sorry) | impreg kink | suspension play | clit stimulation | oral sex(female receiving) | begging | overstimulation      ➻ author’s note: Part 3 has arrived. No lie this is one of my favs!! Once again, I won’t hold you. Thanks @taechwitaaah for beta reading and screaming with me. I hope y’all enjoy this as much as we did lol.

It wasn’t hard to locate your next stop. A toy store on Christmas Eve is like a flashing billboard sign. Especially when the only toymaker loves to burn the midnight oil.

Yoongi searches for any excuse not to go home to his estranged wife. The only reason they’re together is because of his kid, who just so happens to be one of Mr. Park’s pupils. 

He loves bringing smiles to all the youth’s faces, but Yoongi’s no saint. Mrs. Min wants nothing to do with her lowdown cheating spouse, and Yoongi couldn’t give a bigger shit.

He’s never been a monogamous man; whenever he finds a new playmate, the old one is no longer interesting. 

But you, however. You just might be his favorite. He couldn’t wait to drag you down to his dungeon of misfit toys and show you all of his erotic creations.

“Are you comfortable, doll?” he asks. “Your restraints aren’t too tight, are they?” 

You don’t hear him because your attention is set on the image of the toymaker’s veiny hand wrapped around his cock. He pleases himself while drinking in the sight of you, his delicate pink lips parted slightly as small, labored breaths slip past them. Each time his palm slides over his similarly textured shaft, arousal oozes from the tip. Suddenly, your mouth is dry, and the urge to fill it with–

“Hey. Eyes on me when I’m talking to you, beautiful.” 

He uses the other hand to lift your chin, gently demanding your undivided attention. The authority in his voice places you back in reality.

Your eyes wander up his figure, admiring his skin while getting drunk off of his touch. 

“Sorry about that, Sir.” You tug on the straps lightly to ensure they’re secure. “Yes. This feels nice.” 

Yoongi insisted on putting you in one of his many “swing sets” hanging from the ceiling. 

It’s thrilling being suspended feet in the air, your legs spread wide with your weight only supported by rope. Your wrists are bound also, leaving you entirely at Yoongi’s mercy. 

But mercy, is not a term the toymaker is familiar with.

“I promise you, doll. You’ll feel even better once I stuff my cock inside of you.” 

Yoongi spreads your folds and reveals your wetness. The cold dungeon air hits your center, intensifying your sensitivity.  

“Damn, you’re wet,” Yoongi comments.

“Make it wetter, Sir.” 

You respond with so much need that he can’t resist the temptation. He’d rather drag this out and keep you down here for as long as possible, but the growing urge to fuck you senseless is too demanding.

Yoongi leans forward and allows his spit to drip into your opening. He watches in awe as your cunt accepts it graciously. Using two of his lengthy digits, he enters your pussy and prepares you for his throbbing cock. 

“Fuck, Sir!”

Yoongi’s thumb rubs your clit while he fingers you slowly, relaxing you so he can continue to stuff your dripping crevice.

“Take one more for me, doll?”

On your command, he adds another finger. 

“That’s my good girl,” he whispers.

The room begins to fill with the lewd sounds of your squelching juices, gushing out of you and covering Yoongi’s hand and wrist. He twists and curls his digits inside of you, searching for the spot that’ll have you falling apart. You cry out for him once he finds it, and he responds with a cocky smirk, knowing he’s about to ruin you before he even fucks you.

“Sir.”

“Come if you need to, doll,” he says. “I won’t get mad at you.” 

His voice is so gentle and sweet, a contrast to the dark lust-drunk eyes staring at you.

You can feel your core tightening with each passing second. Moans leave your lips, but the pleasure is so intense you cannot hear how loud you are. Eventually, you have no other choice but to let go.

His fingers guide you through your orgasm while he praises you with the sweetest words you’ve ever heard. He bends down to suck your pulsing clit between his lips, and your mouth falls open. Nothing comes out; you’re just reacting on nerves. Your brain has yet to catch up with the moment.

You slump over once you’ve finally calmed down, but you’re only given a few seconds to recharge before Yoongi’s cock is teasing your entrance.

“You ready to tap out, doll?”

You shake your head.

“Please,” you beg. “Continue. This is light work for me, Sir. Do your worst.” 

The toymaker wipes the smirk off of your face with his thumb; you know you’re fucked but you still play along.

“I sure hope you know what you’re asking for, baby doll.”.

His cock enters you slowly, not stopping until he’s filled you with every inch. Your pussy constricts and he’s unable to move. You both struggle to adjust to the tight fit.

“How are you so fucking big?” 

“Maybe you just can’t take dick like you think you can, doll.” His tone is condescending, making your face heat up. “I prepped you and you’re still having a hard time. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Bullshit.”

You speak out of turn and earn yourself a slap on the thigh.

“Now, don’t get disrespectful, doll.”

You bite your tongue and settle into your position. When Yoongi starts moving, the fullness becomes more bearable. The sensitivity ebbs away, and pleasure replaces it. The chill in the room fades as your body begins to heat up, and your sweat does little to keep the feverish desire at bay.

“You’re still so tight,” he points out. “Let’s loosen you up, doll. This won’t do.” 

Yoongi surprises you when he grabs one of his little toys. He flips the little switch, making the object buzz in his hand. “This one’s going to fuck both of us up.”

He places the vibrator directly onto your clit, and instantly, you see stars.

“Fuck! Sir, I can’t!...” 

You beg him to turn the settings down, but Yoongi only chuckles.

“Baby doll, I really haven’t turned it on yet.” 

A press of a button, and it reveals another feature that has your mind scrambled within seconds. The suction pulses around your sensitive bundle of nerves, stimulating you in ways you’ve never even dreamed of.

Your babbling gets you mocked and teased by the toymaker. All while he’s still stuffing you with his cock.

“Look at my sweet little doll,” he tsks. “So confident in thinking she could handle my cock but can barely keep it together. The nerve; what were you trying to achieve, baby?”

As if you weren’t already a mess, he turns up the settings. If the entire town didn’t hear your scream, then the room has to be soundproof.

“I’m going to come!” 

You sob and tremble as your body dangles in the air. Yoongi’s thrusts send you flying, but the hold on your waist never allows you to slip through his fingers.

“Oh, yeah? And what are you gonna do for me if I let you?” he grunts.

He intentionally touches your cervix, making your eyes roll back. You don’t miss the twinkle in his eyes when he notices the outline of his dick each time he enters your guts.

“Anything, Sir,” you promise. “Please. Just let me come!” 

You aren’t sure what sound is filthier, the noises your cunt makes as your juices gush onto the floor, or Yoongi’s wet sticky sac slapping your ass with every impact.

“Well, when I fill this cunt… You better not spill a drop. Understand?”

“Okay, I won’t. Now, please.”

“I hear you, doll. I hear you.” 

But relief doesn’t come as quickly as you thought it would. He turns the toy to the highest setting, making you lose your mind in seconds. Yoongi doesn’t hold back. When your orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks, he keeps fucking you like you’re a rag doll, bouncing you up and down on his hard shaft.

“You feel so good, doll,” he growls, slowing his pace. “I should keep you all to myself and pump my cum into you every night.”

“Sir, fuck!”

You try to calm down but hearing his deep voice filled with lust makes you hotter.

“Ahh… You like that. You wanna get knocked up, huh?” 

His cock starts twitching inside of you at the thought.

“Please.” At this point, you can’t even recognize your voice, but you continue to fill his ears with everything he wants to hear. “Sir, fill my pussy. I promise I won’t spill any.”

This is probably the closest Yoongi has ever been to finding true love because the look he gives you tells it all. He’s never met anyone so perfect, so willing to accept him. His orgasm snatches him out of his reverie, reminding him of a reality he’ll have to face very soon.

A moment later, ropes of his warm cum paint your womb, drawing pleasant sighs from your lips.

“Goddamn it, doll,” he whispers while his cock slips out of you. “You’re a fucking slice of heaven, you know that?”

Yoongi uses his finger to stop the seeping cum from dripping to the floor. He pushes it back inside of you repeatedly until he’s satisfied. He lowers you and then carefully helps you out of the swing, so you don’t fall.

“You’re quiet, doll. Are you okay?” 

You don’t respond but Yoongi still takes your hand and guides you up the stairs. Your palm feels so warm wrapped in his, and he can’t stop a smile from spreading across his face.

He takes one look at you and realizes he’s in deep shit.

“What’s on your mind, doll?”

Doll. 

He thinks that name is perfect for you. You may be a goddess, but you’re so delicate and cute. He wants you. He wants to keep you to himself despite knowing that he can’t.

“I’m hungry.” He wasn’t expecting that reply, but he doesn’t mind treating you to dinner after the things you just allowed him to do to you. “I want something… Sweet.”

“Well, there is a bakery across the street. He’s closed, but I know him so he’ll—”

You’re already heading to the door before he can finish his sentence. Yoongi quickly grabs his coat so he can cover your body. However, you turn around and place a hand on his chest to stop him.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“You said you wanted to get something to eat.” 

Yoongi is slightly confused, but he laughs it off.

Those beautiful eyes stare into his soul, and he has no choice but to accept the fact that he’s whipped.

“Yeah… but not with you, hun.”

Your words leave him in shock, and he can only stand there frozen, watching you walk through the door and head over to his best friend’s store. The toymaker is heartbroken, and sad. But what can he say when this is how he carries on? You’ve got him, and you’ve gotten him good.

He laughs to himself, basking in the sweet smell of you that still lingers in the air.

“Damn, that was one wild sleigh ride.”

#yoongi x reader #bts x reader #suga x reader #bts smut #yoongi smut #suga smut #bangtanbathhouse #btsdreamcourt #bangtansorciere #kvanity #bts imagines #yoongi imagines #bts fanfics #fic: unholy night #sugakookitty

[scudevils]

GIRL I HAVE THE URGEEEEE FOR DOM!LUKE??? LIKE SUPER JEALOUS LUKE SO PLEASE QUENCH MY THIRST 🙏🏿🫶🏿

poison ivy — LH43

pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, mirror sex, choking, slight orgasm denial, degradation, praise, jealousy, possessive behaviour, swearing, dirty talk (its a lot im sorry), little fluff at the end, not proofread!!

synopsis: *insert the fuck around, find out meme* [3.0k]

a/n: honestly pretty badly written cause i was drunk when i started writing and found it kinda hard to write like harsh dom luke but here we are! 😭😭

luke hand snaked around your neck, calloused hands rough against your skin as it forced your head to look up at him through the mirror. his eyes staring into yours as your head lolled, breaking the eye contact as he thrusts into you, a harsh grip on your hips from his other hand. "i told you to look at me." he punctuated his words with a harder snap of his hips, wearily, you lifted your head to meet his eyes again, your own gone blurry.

he'd always had a thing having you watch when you had sex, telling you how pretty you were when you struggled to look at him, to follow the instructions he gave you, the completely fucked out look on your face, and he wanted you to see that.

and so that why he accept how you were now, head hanging as you refused to look at him, mirror facing the bed. you let out a pitiful whine of his name as he slowed down his strokes, dragging himself in an out of you at an agonising pace, you lifted your head slightly to see him staring down at you through the mirror. "please luke," you pushed your hips back, hoping to get any type of friction that would push you over the edge, though his hand on your body stopped you from getting much.

you were already overstimulated, tired as your legs had gone shaky, going for your third orgasm of the night and luke hadn't even broke a sweat, the only time you cursed the endurance of an athlete.

luke’s fingers tangled their way into your hair, scratching lightly at the roots, forcing your head up and your back to arch as you let out a gasp, he felt you clenching around him, subconsciously or consciously, enjoying the slight tingling sensation in your scalp.

"fuck," you dragged out the word when your eyes met in the mirror, his pupils completely blown as he stared down your body, lips swollen from the marks he’d already engraved in your body. his breath was hoarse, throaty groans being heard as he picked up his pace once again, you could see the way his adams apple bobbled as he tried to keep his composure.

his tongue wet his bottom lip, the sight of the muscles rippling in his arm whilst his hand still held your hair almost enough to make you come right then. you felt him deeper in this new angle, teetering on the edge of your orgasm once again, and god did he know it.

luke released his grip on your hair, your body threatening to fall back against the plush mattress before he wrapped his arm around your abdomen. his hand found your boobs, squeezing the soft, bruised, skin and you swore your knees almost gave out.

you whimpered feeling him twitch inside of you, the sensitivity you felt becoming more and more apparent as he sat stilled inside of you, every move having you hissing, your body begging for more than what he was giving you. "look at you," as he spoke you turned your head up to look at him, luke barely sparing you a glance as he redirected you, back looking at yourself in the mirror.

your cheeks flushed a bright pink, feeling flustered under the attention you were getting, eyes darker with your pupils completely taking over, an animalistic look in them and your hair a mess, bruises littering your neck and collarbone all the way down to your belly. "so pretty like this, fucking perfect.”

you couldn't bring yourself to pay attention to anything but him as he bit on your earlobe gently, placing kisses along your jaw, gauging your reaction. his heavy-lidded gaze sending even more electric shocks through your body, goosebumps forming on the surface. luke’s fingers danced around your jaw for a few moments until they settled on the base of your neck, just sitting there.

you took note of the way the outside of his palm flexed seconds before his fingers stretched out to wrap themselves around your neck and the tips pressed into the skin, ever so lightly restricting your airflow. luke smiled at the vibrations he felt under his hand before pressing an open mouthed kiss to your temple, "look so good with my hand around your throat.”

"please, luke," the begging came out more desperate than you’d anticipated, shocking you at how needy you were for him. the ache between your legs was getting unbearable, worse by every second that passed that luke refused to move inside of you.

you tried your luck again, moving your hips backwards against his body, but it was proved impossible because of how hard his grip was on your abdomen, holding you tightly in place. he let out a laugh at your struggles, his hand that was on your stomach dropping down slightly to circle your clit painfully slowly.

"baby," your eyes found his, a softer edge to his sweet name, a smile on his face as he saw how you were struggling, but it was quickly replaced as he spoke again. "i want you to look at me when you cum." the way he spoke made your head spin; it was just above a whisper and it was as slow as his movements on your clit, just as teasing. "m’not gonna stop there, gonna wait till you forget your own fucking name.”

"luke-“

you felt his hips pulling back, your desperation hitting once he was almost fully out of you, a sudden empty feeling and you were clenching around nothing. "no, no, please," uou could've screamed at him, hit him, your eyes glossed over with tears threatening to spill at the ache between your legs, desperate for the release he was currently robbing you of.

"fuck luke, just let me cum, i’ll do anything,” his eyes met yours in the mirror once again, and you could've swore the second he heard begging like that for him he nearly moaned.

his hand fell back, hips meeting yours at a pace faster than the one before. tears started spilling down your cheeks as you closed your eyes, the feeling of being full once again and every nerve in your body spiked with pleasure. luke’s hand clasped around your throat even harder as a warning sign to keep your eyes on the mirror, more groans coming from falling from his lips. "told you to keep your eyes on me."

luke pulled you back up by your hair again, exposed further in the front of the mirror as your back arched. "such a pretty neck, baby," you felt his breath concentrating on the exposed skin of your neck, admiring his prior work and adding to it as he left open mouthed kisses. "jealous other people get to look at it too." he mumbled against your skin.

"don’t be, i’m all yours,” you spoke in a quiet voice, eyes that were previously screwed shut meeting his eyes in the mirror, attempting not to sound as fucked out broken as you were because of him. his lips ghosted over your neck, just enough for you to feel a smirk forming on them whilst his finger circled your clit.

"everyone should know that, but they don’t apparently-"

"then show them." you cut him off, the finger that was pressed against your clit sank slightly deeper on it, letting you know he was more than happy to hear those words coming from you, in fact he was encouraging it, you held back a moan once his tongue left a wet patch on your neck, sure he could feel your heart thumping underneath it.

luke’s teeth grazed the heated skin on your neck, marks forming from where his fingers dug into you, a reminder for the next few days, for everyone to see like you’d told him to.

you choked out a moan, luke’s lips enclosing around the skin that wasn't held by his teeth. he used another finger to add a firmer pressure to your clit, starting to move inside of you again as the sting on your neck faded.

your eyes closed against, revelling in the feeling of all your other senses being heightened; the feeling of his fingers pressing against your clit and the way he rolled his hips to meet yours, his other hand gripping your waist possessively. your arm wrapping round to bury in the strands of his curls the other holding onto his muscular thigh, all while the nerves in your neck sent signals of pain and ecstasy to your brain.

the fusion of it all left you weak.

you were surprised luke had gone so long letting you close your eyes, as if on cue the feeling of his hand tapping your thigh lightly caused you to open them, seeing him already looking at you with glazed over eyes, his usually dark eyes a shade darker before he went back to attacking your neck.

"luke, please, i'm gonna cum," you cried out, his name falling from your mouth with a loud moan, whines and whimpers following after. the filthy sounding pop of his mouth detaching from your neck followed soon after and he groaned against you before biting down on a spot near the one he had just marked. “please, can i?"

luke held onto your chin with two fingers, pushing upwards, anf forcing eye contact. you swallowed harshly when your eyes met, aware of the tone used in these situations. his lips grazed over the shell of your ear, so close you could feel the brush of his lips. "who do you belong to?"

his eyebrow rose in anticipation of your answer and his facial features had become sharper due to your delayed answer. it hadn’t dawned on you until then what this whole thing had been about. then the memories came back to you, the way the team had been out celebrating a big win and they’d all had a little to much to drink, one of his teammates getting a little too flirty for luke’s liking.

luke already short patience was waining with your lack of answer, rolling his eyes when he pressed his thumb to your lips. you couldn't help yourself but press your thighs together, half of you wanting to refuse to answer, following the simple logic of; if i piss him off further, he'll fuck me harder and the other half just wanting to come as quick as possible.

"answer me," luke’s hand found its place back wrapped around your neck, tighter than before and sure to leave marks that would cause a few people to worry if they seen it. you bit your lip as an attempt to stop a moan from escaping, but you failed miserably when he held the eye contact.

your teeth sank into your bottom lip, enjoying this more than you knew you should, the finger luke had on your clit speeding up when you couldn't hide the whine. "you, luke, fuck," you needed more than he was giving you, rolling your hips in an attempt for more friction when he stopped you with a harsher thrust.

you chased your high, luke temporarily loosening the hold he had on your waist, allowing your hips to grind down on him. you were so close, and he could feel it too, the way you clenched around him was unmistakable. and just just as you could feel yourself building up to it, luke’s hand on your waist returned. "fuck off luke!"

he let out a low laugh, finding how willing you were to do anything to get your release more attractive than he should.

"you're so pretty." luke smirked as he spoke, seeing the annoyance growing in your face, but still your cheeks flushed at the simple compliment. he let his thumb rest on your bottom lip. you groaned, taking the tip of his thumb in your mouth just as you would if you were sucking him off, luke’s muscles twitching at the thought.

he grabbed the back of your neck with one hand and pulling you backwards towards him roughly. the movement was successful as your mouths clashed, your teeth sank into his bottom lip for a moment before you opened your mouth further, trying to gain access into his own with your tongue.

luke’s hips began moving again, his hand around your neck moving to circle your clit, letting your body hunch over again, no energy left to lift yourself up. "fuck, do you think he could fuck you better? think he could get you this wet?"

you tried to speak, but you could barely manage to connect two coherent thoughts in your brain, let alone voice them without producing gibberish. all you could feel was electrifying pleasure that came with every thrust of his cock inside of you, barely keeping your eyes open but still registering his burning gaze on you.

you started to bounce back on him without giving it a thought, your body reacting to luke almost instinctively and providing an answer to his question. you enjoyed him stretching you out and the slight pain that came with it a bit too much, muscles in your stomach tightening already as you rushed to your orgasm.

one last time he tightened the grip on your hair, forcing your head up to look at him. "keep your eyes on me, i want to see your face when you come." he bit his lip feeling his own release only minutes away and he could feel his hips faltering, a small moan leaving his own lips. "tell me your mine,”

"only yours, luke," you managed to let out in a whimper once you felt the start of your orgasm clouding your vision, seeing white and letting out sounds and words you couldn't make out in the peak of pure pleasure. "don't fucking stop."

luke groaned, still pounding deep into you, fingers gripping your hair into a loose ponytail and pulling your head back. "let everyone know how good you feel," you felt him stretching you with every move, no matter how many times you were together. luke made whimpers and curses spilling out from your throat uncontrollably each and every time.

he pushed deeper inside of you, his fingers dipped down to circle your swollen clot, drawing out even more loud and obscene sounds. in less than a minute you went from desperate squirming to another orgasm with no time to recover. you felt your entire body trembling, a feeling of control no longer present, but still luke’s fast pace never slowed.

"were so desperate for it, know you can take it.” luke’s hand reached for yours, in direct juxtaposition to his words and you realised just how close he was too, he was in the same predicament desperate to his own release. his hips stuttered for a few seconds when he tilted your head to kiss him, lips soft, no rush as he savoured the moment and feeling. your moans were swallowed by luke, his being lost between your lips.

luke flipped you over to your back, wanting to see only your face when you both came and not through a mirror. "shit, i'm so close." he leant down to take your lips between his, involuntary moaning into the kiss as your arms wrapped round his neck, bringing him chest to chest with you.

your foreheads were placed together, both working your bodies in sync to reach your mutual goal.

panting out through clenched teeth, luke tossed his head back in pleasure, he was covered in a light sheen of sweat with flushed cheeks. his whole body tingled due to the overlapping sensations that were currently taking over him.

his release spurred on your own, thighs shaking as he whispered sweet nothings to you, not nearly as intense as your last two. uke praising you as your arms wrapped tighter around his neck, moaning out his name and a list of profanities.

luke moaned against your skin as you clenched around him, the aftershock of you orgasm hitting both of you, drawing the smallest of whimpers from his lips. his hands squeezed your hips, over the marks that were already starting to develop.

he ignored the feeling of his own body aching, cock feeling over stimulated as he continued help you ride out the last of of your high, helping you through the pleasure.

you tried to catch your breath, chest heaving as small murmurs and whimpers left you. unlike before, your eyes were screwed shut tight but your lips were smiling. a silent sign to luke that you were doing okay, you didn’t need to verbalise it.

he kissed all over your face, making up the lack of affection before with small pecks on your cheeks, wanting to give you a minute before speaking to him, your chest still rising and falling like you'd ran a marathon.

luke rolled off of you, bringing you in close to his chest when you lay your arm across his midriff. “you okay? didn’t hurt you did i?”

you let out a small laugh, your cheeks still burning as you lifted your head up to face him, seeing luke already looking down at you with concern in his eyes. "i'm more than okay, and you didn’t hurt me, i liked it.”

his cheeks had their own tinge of pink to them, his hair stuck to his forehead with a thin layer of sweat. you melted into his touch as always, letting him pull you in for a tender kiss, nothing like the ones you had just shared.

#luke hughes #luke hughes smut #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes fic #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes oneshot #hockey imagine #hockey one shot #hockey smut #nhl smut #nhl imagine #nhl fic #scudevils

[earlgreydream]

doubts.

| loki x reader | fluff |

anon requested. loki kinda degraded sub!reader and she scrunches up all tiny and sobs afterwards because she thought he meant what he said

cw: slightly smutty, slightly angsty

You begged Loki to let you come, fighting against the magical restraints your dom had placed around your wrists and ankles. 

“Oh, you want to come so bad you’re crying? You desperate, pathetic whore. You’re so fucking filthy, have you no shame?” Loki sneered, the words sending arousal pooling deep in your belly, even though you fought against it. Your body jolted at the slap administered to your inner thigh, a pained cry escaping your lips. 

You’d been acting up and testing Loki’s patience, which is what earned you this punishment, your pleasure being dangled in front of you, just out of reach. You’d broken his rules, and he’d had enough of your attitude. 

“Come now before I change my mind,” Loki’s tone was dangerous, and the pressure inside of you shattered. He followed your lead, finishing inside of you before he pulled out and made the restraints vanish. 

As the pleasure wore off, his words echoing in your mind, You desperate, pathetic whore. You’re so fucking filthy, have you no shame?

Loki stood off of the bed, going to run you a hot shower. As soon as he’d stepped away, a sob tore through your chest, your shoulders heaving as you cried. You curled up in a ball, feeling small and alone on his massive bed. 

Loki heard you crying, and he felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. He abandoned the shower and ran to your side, kneeling down on the bed. You looked so tiny and fragile, folding in on yourself. His chest ached when he heard your soft sounds and saw the way your hands trembled as you tugged at your hair, trying to self-soothe. He reached out to pull your hands away, wanting to keep you from anxiously tearing the hair from your sensitive head.

“My darling-” his voice cracked when you jerked away from him. You hiccuped on your broken sobs as they wrecked you, emotion flooding every last thought and turning you into a mess. 

Loki’s magic sparked around you, cleaning you up and leaving you both in loose clothing. The green shimmer surrounded you, Loki’s fruitless attempt to touch you without frightening you. It was warm, and seemed to buzz with its own life, but didn’t make you feel any better. 

“My darling, have I hurt you? Tell me whatever is wrong so that I may fix it,” Loki begged, wanting nothing more than to pull you into his arms. 

“Don’t touch me, please,” you tried to catch your breath, wanting to get your keys and leave. 

He sank back, giving you space. His eyes were concerned and sad, and he fought against the urge to pierce into your mind, ripping the truth from you. The door vanished from the wall as you tried to run out, and you whipped around to face the god, who was kneeling on the bed and looking wounded. There was no exit, Loki keeping you contained to the bedroom until your devastation was resolved. 

“Y/N, I won’t let you leave when you’re so upset. You cannot drive safely. If you wish, I can take you anywhere you want to go,” Loki fretted, and though you knew he was right, you only grew more and more upset. 

“Come to me, darling,” Loki opened his arms, the authority in his voice making you comply. You knew this was a fight you couldn’t win. You’d end up in Loki’s arms confessing your pain whether by his will, or your own.

Your sobs broke his heart, and he slowly wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you down into his lap. He held you firmly, and eventually your struggling subsided as you let yourself weep against his chest. 

“Please don’t make me pry the truth out of you,” Loki begged softly into your hair. He didn’t want to add to your pain, he only wanted to fix it. He was very aware that sifting through your mind to take your private thoughts was something that made you feel extremely violated. He wanted you to tell him on your own, but he wouldn’t let you keep such heartbreaking secrets from him. 

“Y-you... did you mean what you said about me? That I was pathetic, and d-desperate and a whore?” You sobbed out, stammering over your words.

“Oh, oh my goodness. My darling, I am so sorry. I never meant any of that. I thought you understood I just said it in the scene... please my love, I adore you more than all of the stars. Never think you are not the most perfect, beautiful, eloquent, and lovely person in my eyes. I love you, I will never say such horrible things again.” Tears flowed freely down Loki’s face. You were startled, unused to seeing raw emotion from him, especially not guilt. It hadn’t occurred to you that the words Loki had spoken were just part of the scene, part of the sex you were having. He wasn’t typically fond of degradation, but he was experimenting in the moment, never expecting it to be received as genuine. 

There was no room for doubt in his words. He meant his love then, and he would spend the rest of his life proving his love to you.

His strong arms cradled you against his body, trying to hold you together.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry,” he breathed apologies like a repetitive prayer.

You listened to his heartbeat, letting the rhythm slow your racing mind. Your sobs eventually subsided, calmed by the steady circles of his hand on your back.

“I forgive you,” your lips moved against the underside of his jaw.

“Please always stop me, tell me then, if anything at all makes you feel even the slightest bit unsafe. I never want you to feel this way again, certainly not at my fault,” Loki begged, and you nodded before burying your face back in him.

“Do you still love me?”

“I love you the most,” you promised.

Loki talked you into staying the night, doting on you to the point you were almost smothered. His magic conjured everything you wanted, even in the back of your thoughts.

“Do you want to go get some?” He asked, and you turned, tilting your head in confusion.

“To Paris. For the macarons.”

“You’re reading my thoughts,” you sighed softly, but a smile graced your expression as you kissed him.

“No, I’m sleepy. Maybe tomorrow?” You asked, and he nodded, sweeping you off your feet and carrying you back to bed.

You situated yourself in his arms, your back against his chest. His larger frame shielded you, wrapping you in safety and warmth. You slept soundly with him, the pain and uncertainty from the afternoon long gone and replaced by his love.

The smell of coffee rose you out of your sleep. Your eyes took a few moments to adjust to the soft light spilling in through the windows, and you sat up, suddenly realizing you weren’t in Loki’s bedroom at his apartment, where you’d fallen asleep.

“Loki?!” You called, and he leaned in the doorway.

“Good morning. I didn’t mean to frighten you. We took a short trip in your sleep. We’re at my Paris flat.”

You smiled, stretching your arms above your head as you yawned. Loki put a coffee in your hands, leaning down and kissing your forehead.

“If I cry will you spoil me more often?” You teased lightly, and he shot you his signature dom look of warning, making you shudder.

“It breaks my heart to see you cry, my darling,” Loki’s tone was apologetic, guilt still left over from the day before. You squeezed his arm as you sipped your coffee.

“I’m okay,” you swore, earning another kiss from your lover.

“Mm. Finish that up and we’ll go to the patisserie down the street.”

“Yes, sir.”

He smiled, happy you were cheered up and back to normal. He moved his fingers and a pretty sundress appeared hanging on the back of the washroom door for you, delicate white flats placed below.

“Dressing me up like your little doll?”

“Careful, or I will dress you, after I get that attitude in line.”

“I love the dress. And I can put it on by myself,” you apologized, pecking his lips before walking to the bathroom.

You returned in the sundress, a white beret adorning your head along with it. You relished in the bright smile Loki rewarded you with. In a shimmer of green, he was dressed in pastels that matched your own. You loved to see him in casual clothes instead of the Asgardian armor he frequently wore, and he indulged you for this small Parisian vacation. 

“You look stunning, my darling.”

Giggles erupted from your lips, making Loki’s heart soften. He dipped his head down to kiss you, making your nose scrunch up in the cutest way that he loved. His long, slender fingers folded with yours, holding your hand as the two of you made your way out of the flat and onto the bustling street. You were thankful for the sunny weather, greatly improving your mood from the rough night in New York’s rain. 

“Feeling better?”

“Much,” you nodded.

“Let’s get some crepes. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect, Loki.”

The young god pecked your lips before pushing you inside of a patisserie. 

“Salut,” the girl working called to the two of you as the bell clinged on the door.

“Darling, what would you like? We can take some macarons to go,” Loki asked, pointing to the pastries behind the glass.

You chose a few, and Loki rattled off your order in French to the shopkeeper, taking the bag from her and moving you to sit at a table in the corner for your crepes. 

“Can we stay in Paris for a couple of days? Just us, not any of the distractions from New York,” you asked, leaning your head against his shoulder and accepting the bite he fed you. 

“Most certainly.” He kissed the sugar off of your lips before the two of you left for a park with your snacks for later. Loki held your hand as you walked along a low stone wall beside him, your eyes level with the extra height. 

“Y/N, you must know that you are so, so terribly loved.”

You turned and snaked your arms around his neck, looking deep into his crystal blue eyes.

“I do not doubt your love, Loki.”

#earl grey loki #loki fanfic #loki #loki laufeyson #loki x reader smut #loki x reader fluff #loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #marvel #avengers #loki smut #loki fluff #dom!loki #soft!loki #female reader

[slashersins-abandoned]

tw : noncon

bubba sawyer x reader

The smell of death seems almost normal now . Stale air that keeps the metallic tang of blood hangs hot and musty in the basement where you sway on the meat hook . A few days ago it made you gag , now it clings to the sweat and dirt on your skin that seems to build up in layers , and you’ve come to accept it .

The sound of the metal door screeching and creaking open catches your attention . A chilling fear corses down you and makes the Texas heat a distance memory . Would you be next ? Slaughtered and cut up by the brutal butcher wearing a dead man’s face ? Somehow you muster the strength to try and escape , but with your wrist bound and caught between a hook , and your toes barely scrapping the concrete below it’s nearly impossible . The only thing you can end up doing for yourself is sway more in a mockery of how you’d been strung up .

Heavy footsteps sound the unavoidable arrival of the man you least want to see . And soon his large frame comes into view , his shadow engulfing you . He’s filthy . But then again , you both are right now . It makes you wonder if he ever knew what being clean was ? Maybe . His somewhat put together outfit - a pair of slacks , a button up shirt , a tie , and a filthy blood stained apron . It’s an odd combination , a mimicry of a some proper hillbilly gentleman . Though you refuse to look at his face . Even when he shoves a crackled bowl of water against your lips , the cool water heaven against your chapped lips .

You hate yourself for giving in , but the need for that reviving liquid on your too dry throat is too great for you to resist . And the happy noises that come from the man who seems to get closer show that it must be a good decision on your part . Maybe you’d live a little bit longer . Maybe long enough to hope .

All too soon you swallow down the last drop of the water offered , and you curse yourself for now savoring it more - who knows when your next taste of relief will come ? The thought isn’t a settling one . You try not to think about it . Instead your eyes move to the shuffling form of your captor .

He doesn’t talk . He’s never talked . Grunted , yes , something he babbled as if he were saying words , happy squeals , angry grunts . It was all so . . . confusing . Knowing what this man wanted , why he was keeping you , it was impossible . But still , you held your breath , hoping his hands wouldn’t move towards the weapon he’d brandished so easily the first time you saw him .

It’s as if he knows what you’re thinking . He moves towards the table where the heavy piece of machinery sits . All the sudden you’re too tense , too on edge , hyper vigilant as you hold your breath . Today’s the day , isn’t it ? You’d lived your last . You’ll end up cut in half and butchered just like your friends and this man will just be find and -

Seeming all too happy the hulking masked man sits down at the table . It’s only then you notice the items he’s placed alongside his chainsaw , and the sight of them do nothing to help you calm the sudden hammering of your heart . A new sharper chain , oil , and a few small tools . If you had any tears left to cry , they’d be streaming down your face and blinding your vision .

All too aware of your impending mutilation your eyes lock on his movements . Thick , fat , dirty fingers so easily working to get the old chain off . Chunks of meat and dried blood staining the worn down chain . How many bones had been sawed by those dull blades ? Would id be less painful to tie under the sharp teeth of a clean chain ? Or would it hurt the same as being torn into by the work worn saw ?

Suddenly your trembling , so focused on those fiddling fingers oiling and cleaning the now chainless saw that you don’t realize you’ve made noise . The fact the fingers have paused , bow tapping nervously doesn’t click in your mind . And when it does it causes your brow to furrow , eyes flickering to the masked man’s face - a mistake . The moment you take in the stolen face of another person you want to gag and throw up the water you’d only just had . But what’s worse is that you lock eyes with the behemoth of a man .

Dark swirling brown eyes . Ones that are too bright , too curious as he stares at you . It feels like an eternity but finally you pull your gaze away , glancing back to the weapon on the table . And those brown eyes follow your gaze . Thick fingers move back over the metal , then down lower , and lower until they’re resting against the plastic starter .

Never in your life had you felt your heart sink to your stomach so quickly . A soft “no” leaving your cracked lips . Another mistake , because the larger man wraps his fingers around the starter and starts to pull . In abstract horror you watch . One easy pull , like it was nothing to rev the motor . The heavy saw weightless in large hands and thick arms . A second one and the motor sings for a few se seconds before fluttering off . The third has your vision blinding , fear flooding your senses and making it hard to even bring air into your lungs .

The panic consumes you in such a way that the heavy steps of the large man coming closer don’t register in your ears . It’s not until you feel the metal of the saw vibrating against your thigh that you jolt back to reality , letting you a shocked sob . But pain never comes . There’s no tearing of flesh under vicious teeth . No searing hot pain as you’re torn in two . Instead just the shaky , loud hum of the motor and the chainless saw against your skin .

Confusion is an understatement . Why - What happened ? What was - An aborted attempt to shift away is made , only for the man who’s gotten closer to raise the tip of the saw up and towards -

“W - Wait ! Don -“ You try to speak , but the butcher has other ideas . The saw makes it way between your legs , rubbing over your clothed crotch .

The vibrations are so sudden and shocking that you choke on your words . In an attempt to get away your thighs all together , but it only seems to make it worse . An excited noise coming from the larger man as it moves closer and starts forcing his saw between them , forward and back forward and back . Those curious big brown eyes focused on how you squirm .

The movement makes you cry out . In panic , in shock , in some fucked up kind of forced arousal - you aren’t sure . And every reaction pulled from you only boldens the large Texan .

With a whimper you try to pull away , only to find the base of the saw pressed close to you , the vibrations so powerful that you can’t stop your body from coming undone . With a soft cry , and the steady obeisant grinding of the chainsaw against your sex , you cum .

Shame floods you , along with a strange relief . Not even the sound of the chainsaw dying and the loss of friction is enough to pull you from your sudden exhaustion . So much effort your body didn’t have pulled out of you by just a few unwanted touches . Yet you welcomed the warmth in your belly . It was something - proof that you were alive , some kind of final acceptance .

Hanging slack and panting , the larger man’s hands flutter over you . Chubby fingers smudging the dirt on your cheek with his own only for them to tentatively travel down to the mess in your shorts . The action pulls a gasp from you , and continues to make you squirm as he lets his hands explore . Cupping and rubbing , spreading the wet mess over you and making it seep further into the fabric keeping his rough padded fingers from your sensitive flesh .

It’s a relief when he pulls them away . Only for you to to go breathless when your shorts are roughly tugged down and you’re fully exposed . The air is hot , but feels freezing on your slick skin , not that you have time to think of it before there’s a leather nose shoved between your thighs . The curious babbles , happy squeals , and heavy sniffing sounds make you squirm away , but you only move against him more as he snorts softly .

A mouth soon follows the nose and a sobbed , “Please ! D -“ tears from your throat only to fall on deaf ears . A thick , too hot , too wet tongue glides over you dipping and lapping as fat lips suckle and teeth lightly scrape over your most sensitive place . He’s eating up your mess . The idea of it makes your belly do a flip - and at this point you don’t know if it’s good or bad . But it is maddening .

Those fat hands grips your thighs easily , spreading them as he continues his adventurous assault on you . The same dizzying warmth flooding you and when you twitch and leak , the pleased sounds from the man on his knees seems almost welcome .

“BUBBA ! GET UP HERE WE GOT VISITORS !”

Just as soon as it’d happened it was over . The large man - Bubba - stood towering over you , whipping the mess on his mask off his face with the back of a dirty man . Only to use the same one to pat the top of your head like one would a pet . Quicker than you’d like to have seen he puts on the fresh chain to his weapon and revs it up . The gleaming metal shining in the dull light of the basement .

As the man runs upstairs you whimper out . The sounds of screams filling your ears as you wonder just how long you had before you ended up on the table .

#bubba saywer x reader #bubba sawyer imagine #bubba sawyer #slasher imagine #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slashers imagine #texas chainsaw massacre #tcm

[chubbology]

Inertia

prompt: a man gains weight trying to get his ex-girlfriend back, but goes way too far and gets addicted to gaining

He hadn’t gone to the gym even once in ages.

After a year of singlehood, he wasn’t ashamed to admit anymore that he’d only really gone in the first place to impress women. Ironic, of course, since his ex had never been more than vaguely dissatisfied about his gym habit.

When they first started dating, he had love handles he hated and his thighs had been too thick. He assumed she dated him despite these flaws. Only after he lost weight to please her did he find out that it was his chub that caught her eye. It was bigger guys she was into. It was a lot of miscommunication. A lot of insecurity on his part, since what her preferences meant was that she wanted him to be a little heavy, and he couldn’t possibly accept that with his society-ingrained doctrines about attractiveness.

But those doctrines meant fuck-all now; he was eating a double cheeseburger in his car, helping it down with an orange soda, thinking about dessert. He was wondering if she’d be proud of him now that he’d gained thirty pounds. He wondered if she’d look at him with half-lidded eyes like she used to, if he put on another thirty. Fifty. Whatever.

His phone buzzes. He sits up straighter, belly swelling a little into his lap. It’s her.

Hey. My friend needs to sell her two tickets. I know it’s your favorite band. Interested?

The next text was a link to an information page about an upcoming concert. He’d been so disconnected lately, he hadn’t even heard about it.

Even though he wasn’t actually all that interested, he replied that he was, and they set a date to meet up the next week. Shit. He looked down at himself. If she were someone else, she might be repelled. But she wasn’t someone else…

He was hit with a brilliant, maybe brilliantly stupid, idea. It’s execution began with going right back through the drive thru.

In the days leading up to seeing his ex again, he ate almost constantly. Since he was only doing freelance online at the moment, his work didn’t get in the way of this. He let himself eat whatever he wanted, in amounts three times what his body craved. He pushed himself to a state of being constantly past full. She liked fat guys? Fine. Even if she still didn’t want anything to do with him, he wanted her to see what he could have been, if he hadn’t been such a gym-rat douchebag. If he’d let himself become a lazy, docile boyfriend like she wanted instead, weak and overweight.

It was hard, gaining a lot of weight in a week. The number on the scale didn’t go up as much as he expected, even though he’d eaten enough calories to gain twenty pounds at least. He compensated by showing up to their meeting spot wearing clothes that tightly hugged his body, which now had a good forty-ish pounds of fat clinging to it. Looking in the mirror before he left, he’d almost seen what she was into. His ass had gotten kind of wide and dumpy, but in a sexy way?

He was all nerves when she showed up looking healthy and cute and indifferent about him, holding the tickets in her hands. Almost indifferent. She definitely gave him a once-over, when she thought he wasn’t looking. He could tell she bit the inside of her lip.

“Well,” she said, meeting his eyes fearlessly. Were her cheeks a little red, or was that wishful thinking? “I’ll see you.”

“Really?” he blurted. “Kinda miss hanging out.”

She smiled and turned to leave. “Maybe.”

He went home and binged hard.

*

In contrast to how he grew too slowly in the week before meeting up with her, in the weeks afterward, he gained weight doubletime. Fat rounded him out as easy as if he were a swiftly filling water balloon, engorging his thighs and belly and ass and hips wide and heavy. He ate compulsively as his appetite skyrocketed, as cravings crushed his will to restrain himself. His budget was thrown out of whack as he spent his savings on pantry loads of unhealthy food. His clothes stretched and seams snapped as he struggled to fit in his largest clothes. He shopped in the plus sized section first for comfort, then by necessity.

All the while he could only think: I wished she was watching.

He started imagining her with him. In the car as he ate fast food. At the store as he bought new clothes. Walking beside him as he forced himself to get exercise.

“Slow down, big guy.” “No, I think you need one size bigger.” “Sweating already? You’re so out of shape.”

Why did he like it? Imagining her mocking him? Teasing him? Eyeing his body, fleshy and overfed.

The next time she texted, it was late at night, and his eyes were glazed watching television, eating huge spoonfuls of that miracle drug called Nutella. His belly swelled out of his shirt. His breasts and face were puffy. According to the numbers he punched into Google, he had long crossed the threshold of obesity.

How was the concert?

He stared at the words. This was it. Maybe his only chance. He replied: Didn’t go after all. Been feeling off lately.

To his (very manly) delight, this prompted more questions, and it became clear she wanted a real conversation. Was she thinking of him? Missing him like he missed her? He thought out every response with the careful focus of a rocket scientist. He wasn’t going to mess this up.

He didn’t seem to, and they texted into the early hours of the morning, catching up. Finally, finally she asked to meet up with him again, and - feeling more eager, a little reckless - he tapped out a disclaimer. Or to her, hopefully: motivation.

Just so you aren’t shocked when you see me, I’ve put on weight since I bought those tickets from you. I’m not sensitive about it or anything, but it’s a lot. So here’s a fair warning.

He held his breath as he waited for her reply. Held his breath. Held it…

Oh. Really?

Like before, they set a time the following week. This time, to get coffee. No big deal.

He knew he had more than fulfilled his little scheme of putting on weight to catch her attention, and he could push the breaks now, but he felt helpless against his inertia. At this point, he’d cultivated half a dozen habits that had his weight steadily rising, and he couldn’t just turn them off. If he so much as thought of eating less, his whole body seized up in fearful anticipation and unhappiness, and he found himself cramming a couple moonpies into his mouth just to calm down.

He gained another six pounds between their text conversation and their coffee date. He felt so out of control, so out of shape, so out of line with the standards of popular society that he felt oddly…free. In a way, he felt free of anxious self-consciousness as he heaved himself out of his car and waved at her through the coffee shop window. She was sitting in a corner at a table for two. Despite his warning, she looked a little shocked.

When he sat down across from her, his huge ass hanging off the ends of the seat, she appeared to inhale deeply. Her expression was inscrutable.

“You weren’t kidding,” she said.

Blushing, he supposed he deserved a bit of tactlessness, for the tactless way he broke up with her. “What? Oh. Yeah, no. I wasn’t.”

She sipped her coffee, eyes flicking between his flabby chest and his flabby face. In a low tone that no one else would hear, she said, “What happened? For you to get fat as fuck.”

He opened his mouth and closed it. This wasn’t how he was expecting this to go. “Well. I’ve been working from home, stressed out. I let myself go and…” He trailed off when he realized her eyes were cold. No - so hot they seemed cold, like his shower water when turned to the highest setting.

“Is this because of me?” she asked, cutting to the chase. She crossed her legs, now openly surveying him. “Did you decide it was okay to gain a hundred pounds because you thought I’d be into it?”

He was speechless. He swallowed.

“Well? Do you want me back that badly? Ever since I saw you last time, all chubbed out, I’ve been thinking maybe I should give you a second chance.”

“Um.”

“But I don’t know…” She shrugged, but a smirk was hiding just behind that indifferent frown, and he wanted. He wanted her forgiveness, whatever that meant. “How about you gain a hundred more and we’ll go on a real date? Sound good? You’re not the only fat guy out there.”

She was full-on grinning now, and he missed her little games like this. He could play them, too.

“Maybe, but I bet I’m the only guy who’s gotten this fat for you,” he said. She was immediately affected by this, and he licked his lips. “You really want to wait to see me a hundred pounds bigger than this, or do you want to stick around to watch?”

Even quieter, she said, “You saying you like gaining weight? How convenient.”

So she still doubted him. He put out his hands for her to see. “Just look. Look at how fat my hands are. I can’t…” And finally his composure cracked a little. “I can’t stop. I couldn’t stop if I wanted. Even if you never talk to me again, I’m gonna gain weight.”

Any playfulness was gone now from her. She looked like she wanted him, too. “Hmm. Maybe we should go before you break that poor chair, huh?”

He blushed again. God, he was getting docile. “I’m not that bad,” he muttered. But she gave him a cruel grin. She hadn’t entirely forgiven him. “You will be.”

And he knew then: he was doomed. He was already a little bit into his own heaviness, and she was going to take that feeling and amplify it tenfold. She was going to enable every bad habit he had, watch him flounder under his increasing size and become weaker under layers and layers of fat until he could barely lift a two pound dumbbell.

He knew she wanted this to happen, and maybe he’d broken up with her before because he’d been afraid.

But he wasn’t anymore.

“Let’s go then,” he said.

*

Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!

I'd love to write more. Check me out <3 etsy.com/shop/Chubbology

#weight gain #fic #male gainer

[sashi-ya]

Hi!! I just want to say that you're awesome and I love everything you write 💖 I would like to request a scenario with Yamato and female reader who has the same role as Hiyori, so reader is the daughter of Oden and Yamato son of Kaido... Normally they should be enemies but they are very attracted to each other. I hope this made sense 😇 with 14, 23, 45 from the spicy list and everything you want please! Thank you Sashi, take care! Sending you a hug ( ˘ ³˘)

Hi!! OMG of course!! This is my first time writing for him so I hope I get it right ♥ I love Yamato so much 🙈🙈🙈 I hope you enjoy this little (not so little) scenario darling!! Thank u for your cute words! ♥

NSFW ~ Yamato x F! Reader ~ Play That Melody For Me ~ [PART 1]

TW: HE/HIM pronouns used for Yamato (as it should be). Nipple play, oral sex, toys (strap on), face sitting, usage of alcohol, wet dreams.

WC: 1.9K

Tag list: @undercoverweeeb @mistyroselove @onepieceya (tagging you because you love Yamato :3)

There is a second part for this fic, read it here ♥

“My dear Tayu, Yamato, Son of Kaido is here” one of your helpers announces from behind the folding screen. The shadow of a tall man awaits you outside. “Son of Kaido, tch” you grunt, tightening the knot of your kimono strap around your waist...

You open the folds to appreciate your next “client”. There he is, long white hair, taller than anyone there, strong arms. You scan his whole body, from up and down. He smiles at you, yellow intense eyes fixed on yours.

“Please, come in” you tell him. He follows you inside. “Take a seat” you command. Yamato sits over a few cushions, crossing his legs. He ties his hair up in a ponytail, and when he does so, his clothes show a sideboob that it’s impossible for you to ignore.

“So, Mr. Yamato, what service would you like?” you ask him, trying to end this situation as soon as possible. The white haired man looks at you and smiles kindly. “Please, call me Oden”, he says.

You gasp and shut your eyes… Your blood boils. “Oden? Oden is my father and your bastard father killed him” you think and avoid shouting it by biting the inside of your mouth. Yamato notices your lack of words, and probably the fire in your eyes.

“Are you ok?” he asks. You shake your head, fighting between jumping and stabbing the man in front of you, or simply accepting his request. If you ever tell him the truth -especially to him-, Denjiro and you would have wasted almost twenty years and the plan to take down Kaido would be ruined.

“Ok, Oden... Tell me then, what’s the service?” you ask him again, choking back tears as you pronounce your dad’s name. He tilts his head and stands up. Yamato approaches you, brushing soft, slender fingers over your cheek. He lifts your chin up and stares into your soul for sure. “I don’t think you are ok right now; I will come back tomorrow” he says. You notice the gold shackles around his wrists and wonder why Kaido’s son has them.

You nod, out of words. You’d lie if you don’t find Yamato, not only intimidating, but also handsome as hell. The man that dares to act like your father leaves the room, but not before flashing you a sexy smile. His huge anatomy, then, disappears as he slides the paperlike door close.

Your legs turn weak, and you fall to the ground. Your knees hit the wooden floor under them, but it doesn’t hurt. Your heart does. “Why… Why me?” you say as warm tears run down your face.

Night comes, and you flop into bed, exhausted. You watch a bright half-moon shining on the dark blue sky of the night through the window. Sakura flowers falling like snow, dancing with the warm breeze of that summer, summer number nineteen… you only have to wait for the next summer… Mum's promise… Your eyelids fall and you slowly travel to the oneiric world.

Images of the despicable son of Kaido over you, his hands on your body. Cold metal feeling over your skin as his shackles rub your flesh. Your fingers tangled around white strands of hair. Your breathing accelerated.

You suddenly open your eyes. Panting, you only realized this was just a dream. “Just… a… dream…” you reassure yourself. Yet, your inner thighs feel wet. Your skin burns, your cheeks too. Heartbeats you can hear. Aroused.

Your fingers travel from your naked belly towards your underwear. You feel how wet that dream has made you. But quickly guilt hits you, hard. “What are you doing, (name)?” you say to yourself, taking your hand off your core. “He is your enemy, stop” ...

---

“Mrs. Oiran… good morning!” a little pink haired girl wakes you up. She greets you with a big smile, laughing as always. “My darling!!” you say and snatch the little bean into your arms. You hug her, you love the little girl. “(Name)! Someone sent you something today! Hahaha” she informs you. “Oh, really? What is it?” you ask. The little girl stands up and runs towards a box decorated with the finest rice paper and some flowers. “Here! Open it!” she says.

The box holds a note that says, “I want you to play the "Tsukihime" melody for me today”. Tears sprout from your eyes, blurring your vision. Inside there is a new Shamisen. And despite being brand new, it looks exactly the same as the one she used to play when she was a little girl. The one that your father, Oden, gifted to you. The one that got burned when his father burned the castle. You hated the man with burning passion. Why does he have to call himself like your dad, why did he have to give you that exact same shamisen as a present… Why from all the songs in the world, he had to choose your father’s favourite melody?... Why does he have to be so handsome?...

And the afternoon is here, and he is too. Again the shadow of your enemy. He is there, behind the paper folding screen, waiting for you… You look through your window, Kyoshiro -Denjiro- looks up to you from the entrance of the Okiya. His sleepy eyes beg for you to bear with it just a little longer. He knows how difficult this is for you, he really knows.

The voice of that man pulls you out from the unspoken connection you have with your friend and protector. You don’t turn around; you just move your head to your shoulder. You feel him approaching you. “Did you like my gift?” he asks, whispering softly near your ear. It’s insane how much his simple presence can make you weak, confused, aroused.

“I did, thank you my Sir” you lie. “Please, play that song for me” he asks. You turn around, looking up at his face. He looks at you, fixing once again his golden eyes on yours. The tension between your bodies is so strong, your skin burning.

You take your gaze off him, grab the instrument, and sit on your turquoise cushion. He does the same in front of you. Your skilled fingers start playing the cords, the melody from your childhood resonates all around the room. Yamato enjoys the notes of such beautiful song. “I wanted to hear this for so long… it is just amazing” he says, as if it was the first time, he was hearing the melody…

Soon, the melody stops. You wait for him to speak, but he doesn’t. So you take the lead. “So.. Do you want me to play another song?” you ask. But he is lost in your body. Yamato approaches you; his soft thumb grazes your lip. You gasp, something feels fancier on your core. Yet, you take your head off to the side. He is your enemy, how are you supposed to be with the son of the man that killed your dad?... but your thoughts got interrupted…

Yamato grabbed your chin and aligned it with his mouth. Soft tender lips over yours, his tongue separating yours. You can’t resist, you don’t want to resist. You want him…

Gently, your back hits the cushion. Yamato straddling over you, white strands of hair falling on each side of your face. The sound of the cuffs he has on his wrists hitting the wooden floor around you.

Lustful sights on each other, your hands travel through his back. He kisses you again, your tongues dance around. His hand little by little sliding the side of your kimono off, until your breasts get completely exposed to him.

Yamato’s mouth traces a path from your lips to your neck, and then lowering until it reaches your breasts. His hands squeeze gently the flesh of your tits, his lips rub your hard nipples. You moan, feeling a mix of lust and guilt, but you don’t stop him.

The son of Kaido deliciously sucks your sensitive nipples, he nibbles and pulls from them. You squirm at the sensation; the pleasure he makes you feel slowly fades the hate…

Yamato stretches his arm to reach for the sakazuki of sake you have served on the side. He lets the alcohol drip over your chest. The cold drops of it make your skin react with little spasms. Your lover licks every drop from your chest, the dry taste of the sake mixed with your skin makes Yamato relish at such a delicious flavour.

His lips lowers and lowers, until they get to your belly button. He traces a circle around it, you whine and extend your arm. Your fingers around his long hair. He grunts. His tongue finally gets to your core.

“I love your taste” he mumbles. You just babble in response, as his skilful tongue makes wonders with your sex. “So tasty, so wet” ...

Your inner thighs get bruised with the horns of his head, as your legs try to close due to the intense stimulation. But that’s not enough, not for him, not for you.

On the verge of an orgasm, Yamato stands up. He walks towards his bag and brings a strap on. Black phallic figure that hangs from a red string. Red string that he quickly ties around his hip bones after letting his clothes slide to the ground.

You wait for him to pound into you with your legs spread open and your eyes scanning such an amazing body. You call him with a beckoning finger. He smiles, sexily and approaches you.

The cold material of the strap on gets damped in your arousal, as he rubs it up and down your sex. “Yamato, fuck me” you beg. He flinches at that name but doesn’t pressure you to call him Oden… and then, he penetrates you, sliding inside, so deep, and steady.

Your nails carve the skin of his back, his breasts fall over your face as he thrusts you. Your tongue stuck out grazing his nipples. Both of you moan, whine, enjoy.

And your orgasm inevitably arrives, and you come shouting his name. Your head thrown back; your mandible hurts from sucking his hard nipples. And even if you were exhausted, there is no time to waste. Is Yamato’s turn to come, and you are an expert in such practices.

“Why don’t you sit on my face?” you command him. “Are you sure?” he asks, aware of his huge anatomy. “Please, I wanna get suffocated under those thighs” you tell him, and he does not think any further. Soon his sex is over your mouth, and you enjoy every single part of his core. You suck, lick, taste his arousal, until Yamato comes squirming over your countenance.

Both of you lay over the cushions on the floor, admiring the sakura petals rain over the city through the window. He caresses your body, and softly tells you “I’m sorry if I asked you to call me Oden…”. You don’t really understand why he says such a thing… Does he know who you are? “What do you mean?” you ask. “I know who you are, (name)” he whispers, low enough for just you to hear it.

You stand up, scared. “How… how do you know my name?” you tell him. “I have your dad’s diary… that’s why I asked the only person that knows how to play that melody to do it for me… I’m on your side, Princess..." ♥ ~

#yamato #yamato x reader #yamato x you #yamato x y/n #yamato one piece #one piece yamato #yamato op #op wano #wano #wano country #one piece wano #wano arc #wano kuni #one piece hiyori #oden #op kaido #one piece fanfiction #one piece x you #one piece x oc #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece #one piece fanfic #sashi ya #n.s.f.w.

[sunflowersoonyoung]

the best stress relief | wooseok

w.c ↠ 1.5k

pairing ↠ wooseok x fem!reader

genre/s ↠ fluff, smut, public sex, college au!

description ↠ despite knowing fully well that wooseok would only end up distracting you, the offer to have him join you whilst you studied was far too tantalising for you to reject.

warning/s ↠ suggestive themes, cursing, unprotected sex.

a/n ↠ hey guys~! this was requested by @beautifulmess0103. whilst I do not plan on accepting requests on this blog, I was inspired by this idea. I think it turned out relatively well~

-

Pale moonlight streaked between the blinds as you thumbed through pages of a textbook. An ominous silence rang across the college library, buzzing against your ears. The stuffy scent and lack of noise was a little suffocating, and as time passed you felt your attention waning.

It was strange to have the entire room to yourself. Usually, there would be at least a handful of students hurriedly skimming through books, faces illuminated by the lights of their laptops. After all, procrastination was a common issue.

Your phone lit up and you breathed a sigh of relief, taking the opportunity to take a break from studying just for a moment. Unsurprisingly, it was a text from your boyfriend, Wooseok.

Jung Wooseok:

Still at the library? Want me to keep you company?

The offer was deliciously tempting, but also a very bad idea. One way or another, Wooseok would end up distracting you. And this assignment was due far too soon for you to risk losing time. Despite your reservations over inviting him, you were almost afraid of the eerie quiet that hung in the air. Some company would be nice, you thought, responding to his text with a curt “yes please”.

Wooseok arrived only minutes later, casually striding between two bookshelves with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweatpants. He shrugged his hood off as he approached, raking through his fluffy raven hair with his fingers.

“Hey,” he greeted with a husky voice, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. He sunk into the chair opposite you, taking in the clutter of textbooks encircling you on the table surface.

“Busy?” He inquired, head relaxing against his palm as he observed you through his owl-like eyes.

“Very much so,” you exhaled.

Wooseok nodded, tugging his phone from his pocket, “I’ll try not to distract you, then.”

It was moments like these that you treasured him the most; moments in which he silently accompanied you, assuring that you were not alone, comfortable in his presence. He cared for you in his own subtle ways, and it never failed to fill you with warmth.

For a while, studying became much easier as you were warmed with joy, still fluttering from Wooseok’s considerate actions.

However, even with your sweet boyfriend’s presence, the paragraphs of printed words began to blur, your head throbbing dully. You attempted to urge yourself onwards, steeling yourself and chewing your lip in concentration. You were so absorbed in your reading that you failed to notice Wooseok’s onyx eyes, curiously drinking in your stressed expression.

Soon his phone was no longer of interest to him.

Perhaps it was the way you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip and furrowed your brow, wisps of hair falling over your forehead, eyes filled with desperation as you scanned the information laid out in front of you. It became apparent to him how deep his attraction for you ran, even when you were this wrought with stress.

“Hey,” he spoke before he could thoroughly inspect the idea, “want to try something?”

You hummed nonchalantly, absent-mindedly scrawling down an important point. You were halfway through writing when he answered, “can I touch you? Y’know, while you’re studying.”

The lead of your mechanical pencil snapped as you flinched, not expecting such a bold suggestion to leave his lips.

“Wh-what? Where did you get that idea? I…” you trailed off, swallowing hard and collecting yourself, “how would you even do that?”

Wooseok shot you a giddy grin and awkwardly slid beneath the table, struggling due to his slender limbs. You heard him knock his head on the table, followed by a muffled exclamation. A few more seconds passed in which you tried to crane your neck to capture a glimpse of him - gasping when his large palms smoothed over the inside of your thighs.

“Like this,” he explained, speaking casually as if he were not basically suggesting public sex.

“Wh-what if someone comes in?” You spluttered, growing hotter by the moment, nervously glancing around the room for any sign of a third presence.

“You’re stressed out, so you’re all wound up,” he hummed, “you know the chances are low. It’s a Friday night.”

He pressed his fingers between your legs, observing your response through his dark orbs. Goosebumps ran across your skin, arousal rising in your gut from both his warm touch and constant gaze.

“Keep working,” he muttered, a suggestion that proved impossible when he slid his hand between the crotch of your shorts and your thigh, pushing the fabric of your underwear aside so that his fingers had access to your burning core. Even the subtle graze of his fingertips against your pussy had you scrambling for the edge of the table to brace yourself.

“Wait, W-Wooseok, I’ll-,” your words dissolved into a garbled cry as one of his long fingers worked its way inside of you. He grinned, fucking you gradually till your slickness was sufficient enough for him to add a second finger. Your head lulled against the back of the chair, subconsciously parting your legs and raising your hips. A second groan slipped from your throat, so you clasped a hand to your mouth to prevent any more from escaping.

“Feels good, huh?” Wooseok commented, apparently enjoying the view. He unsheathed from you and popped his middle and forefinger into his mouth, simultaneously tasting you and lubricating them before filling you back up. It was a tight fit that had you grasping the side of the chair.

The friction felt incredible, but ultimately greed and lust had you desperate for more.

“I need more, Wooseok-ah,” you pleaded, “please.”

As if he had been waiting for those exact words, Wooseok removed his fingers. You stood numbly, legs wobbling as you helped him from beneath the table. He seemed distracted, gradually scanning the library. He apparently found what he was searching for (a hidden area to take you), interlacing his slick fingers with yours and tugging.

The corner of the library smelt strongly of dust and old paper, left mostly undisturbed by a majority of the students. If anyone were to enter abruptly, you would be shielded by the walls of shelving and would have time to stumble back into your pants before you were discovered.

Wooseok kissed you gently, his hands threading into your hair and drawing you as close to him as possible. You felt the sharp edges of the shelf press into your back, but you were too dizzied with desire to care. He hastily tugged your shorts and underpants down your legs, and you stepped out of them.

It was strange, being naked from the waist down in such a public area. Electric tension hung in the air, emanating from both of you in response to the nerve-wracking situation.

His cock loosely rested against his lower belly after you pulled down his sweatpants and boxers, and you sheathed the tip with your fist, sticky precum coating your skin. He groaned deeply, still kissing you.

“Turn around,” he purred, his thick lips grazing your ear. You shot him a sultry smile, licking the precum from your palm. His grasp grew rough and eager, turning you to face the bookshelf. You steaded yourself against the furnishing, eyes fluttering shut as the hot head of his cock ran over your exposed pussy.

Wooseok was deliberate as he filled you up, allowing you time to adjust to his thickness. You both huffed in pleasure when his hips eventually met your backside.

“I needed th-this, Wooseok,” You gasped, realising that this was the perfect remedy for your stress. He began fucking into you, increasing in intensity as you relaxed around him. His palm met the shelf above you, and when you tilted your head to observe him, heat washed over your figure, arousal practically dripping from between your legs.

His brows were furrowed, stands of soft black hair beginning to stick to his forehead. He met your gaze and smiled, exposing his teeth in a grin before slamming against you. You sobbed in pleasure, hanging your head and digging your nails into the wood.

“Touch yourself,” he breathed, and you wasted no time, burning one hand between your legs. Your clit was swollen and sensitive as you pressed the pad of your finger against it, pussy gripping onto his cock - earning a deep growl from Wooseok’s chest.

It did not take long for you to come around him, your cries of pleasure shattering the quiet atmosphere. His pace staggered, and he struggled to keep composure as your wetness increased tenfold. The sound would be humiliating if you were not as horny as you were, working yourself back against him out of hunger.

“Fuck,” Wooseok cursed, voice gravelly as he released inside you, his hips stuttering before he finally stopped. His breathing was heavy as he leaned over you, recovering from his orgasm.

You straightened, standing on the tips of your toes to kiss his cheek. Your shorts were pooled on the floor nearby; you tugged them back on and enjoyed the sight of a half-naked Wooseok for as long as you could before he matched your actions.

As you began trailing back towards your workspace, Wooseok interrupted you, long arms capturing you from behind. You savoured his embrace, soaking up his sweet warmth.

“Head clearer?” He inquired softly. Watching you wracked with stress, Wooseok had known well that you had needed his help to release stress.

“Yes. Thanks~.”

#pentagon #pentagon x reader #pentagon fanfic #pentagon smut #wooseok #pentagon wooseok #wooseok x reader #wooseok smut #wooseok fluff #wooseok fanfic #jung wooseok #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #pentagon fluff #jung wooseok x reader #pentagon wooseok x reader #pentagon wooseok smut #pentagon wooseok fluff

[hey-there-love]

Our Little Secret

Nsfw, Mature

WC: 2.6k

Content Warnings: Drug use, smut, penetrative sex, 18+

“Hey, Y/N over here!” Kirishima whispered as you poked your head out from the rooftop’s entry. He sat on the ledge, legs hanging on the safe side.

“Jeez, you know we’re not supposed to be up here this late, what’s up?” You asked and approached the red haired boy. He sat with a sharp toothy grin on his face. Laying your forearms against the stone, you took in the view of U.A’s campus.

“I got us something,” Kirishima began digging in his pocket and pulled out a small zip log bag, “it’s completely cool if you don’t want to, but”

Your eyes grew wide as you realized what was in the baggy. “Holy shit, is that pot?” You snatched the bag and held it up to the moonlight for further examination.

“You call it pot in America?”

“You don’t?” He laughed and shook his head. “Anyways, where did you even get this?” The musky scent hit your nostrils as soon as you opened the bag.

“I know a guy in the general studies course that deals for side money.” He scratched the back of his head. “I figured since it’s been so crazy lately that we both needed a way to unwind.”

“Kirishima, if you weren’t my best friend I’d kiss you.” You said handing the bag back. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but you swore he blushed.

“Have you ever smoked before?” He questioned and pulled out a pack of rolling papers. You shot him a dirty look and flipped him off.

“You know just because I’m the daughter of a Pro Hero doesn’t mean I’m innocent.” You said and crossed your arms across your chest.

“Well then, you can roll it.” Kirishima raised an eyebrow and slid the paper to you.

You took the weed and began to break it up. “Don’t be shocked when this is the most perfect joint you’ve ever smoked.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it, dude.” You worked quickly and began to roll it up before sealing it with your tongue. He watched your lips intently.

“Done.” You wagged it infront of his eyes. “Got a light?” He gave you a red lighter. You placed the joint between your lips, quickly looking around for any of your classmates that might have woken up. Sparking the lighter to life, you began to take a slow drag. Smoke filled your lungs as you removed the joint from your mouth. Passing it to Kirishima you took a sharp inhale of air and held the smoke.

“Shit, breathe Y/N.” He said before taking his first hit. You released the vapor. He sat, wide eyed.

“See...” you coughed, “Not. Innocent.” A heavy feeling sat behind your eyes and you watched him take another hit before passing it back.

It didn’t take long before there was only a little left. You both managed to slide down the wall and sit on the hard concrete. You head laying in his lap as he ran his free hand through your hair. You sighed at the contact and leaned into his touch.

“Have you ever shot gunned before?” You asked looking up into his crimson eyes.

“What’s that?” He pondered giving you the roach. You smirked and sat up.

“It’s when you put the joint in between your teeth and the other person inhales while you blow. Come here.” You explained and pulled him forward to face you.

Kirishima swallowed as your faces were inches apart. You places the joint in your mouth gently and placed your hand on the back of his neck.

“Wait do I put my lips on yours or just infront of yours?” He questioned nervously. Looking from your lips to your eyes.

You laughed and removed the joint. “You can if you want to. It’s just a shot gun calm down.” Placing it back to your mouth you waited for him to make a move. He sighed and inched his way slowly until his lips were against yours comfortably.

His lips were soft and delicate. You didn’t know if it was because you were high, but you definitely didn’t mind. The joint began to grow hotter and you blew into his mouth. You felt Kirishima inhale. It felt like a life time his lips were on yours. He finally pulled away and exhaled the cloud. He coughed roughly.

You put it remnants out and tossed it over the edge of the building, not worrying about the evidence. “Cool right?” You asked and patted him on the back.

“Yeah...fun.” He replied hoarsely. “Let’s get inside it’s starting to get chilly.” He stood and extended his hand. You grabbed it and wiped the dirt from your bottom.

“Wanna come back to my room? I’ve got a bag of chips calling my name.” You offered walking towards the stairwell.

Kirishima trailed behind. “Chips sound great right now.” You both carefully walked down the stairs. You gripped the railing for dear life in fear of tripping. He placed a hand on your hip to help center you. His touch sent a spark your spine. You finally made it to your dorm in once piece and quietly shut the door behind you.

“Safe.” You sighed and high fived him lightly.

“Where are these magical chips?” He plopped down onto your twin bed and leaned back against the pillows. You opened your desk drawer and pulled out the bag and a water bottle.

“Brain food.” You shrugged, you flipped the light, and squeezed into space next to him against the wall. It was a tight fit considering Kirishima was a tall, built man. Moonlight cascaded through your window, illuminating the features of his face.

He ripped open the bag and sent chips flying all over himself. “Damnit.” He face palmed. You giggled and began to pick chips off of his shirt. Feeding the two of you. Pretty soon they were all gone and the bottle was half empty.

He pouted, realizing they were all gone. “I guess I should get to bed now.” He sat up, removing the heat from your side. You whinned and he turned to look at you. “What?” He asked quizzically searching your eyes.

“Kiri, stay...I want cuddles.” You said and pulled his arm towards you. He hesitated for a moment and reluctantly laid back down on his side. You turned over to allow him to spoon you. He didn’t wrap his arm around you like you were expecting so you did it yourself.

He froze as his hand grazed the smooth skin on your belly. You could feel his nervousness radiating off of him. You didn’t see the big deal. He gave you plenty of hugs before, so why was this any different. You leaned into him so your bodies were truly touching.

You began to trace back of his hand as you two laid in silence. It wasn’t long before you felt something pressing into your rear. You bit your lip, knowing exactly what it was. It had been so long since your were touched by someone else and being under the influence certainly didn’t not help your inhibitions.

A devilish grin spread across your face, grateful for the darkness masking it. You shifted your bottom to get more “comfortable”. Kirishima softly groaned into your ear. The sound made your core heat up. You continued wiggling until he gripped your stomach.

“What are you doing y/n?” He panted.

“Sorry, my leg fell asleep. Had to adjust.” You said innocently and placed your hand on his. He inhaled deeply. He remained still until you quit moving. Believing your actions were unappreciated, you tried to kick the sinful thoughts out of your head. You closed your eyes.

After a few minutes his hand began to run your stomach back and forth, approaching the elastic in your panties slowly. He paused, almost as if asking your permission to enter your zone. You whimpered as an acceptance. This was finally happening. You haven’t been touched intimately by another since you moved. You craved Kirishima’s touch, ever since you became friends. Stealing glances when no one was looking, flirting casually.

Kirishima began to stroke the skin on your mound delicately. You were grateful you groomed yourself tonight. You rolled over so you were laying on your back and looked into his eyes.

He sucked air between his teeth and paused again his finger tips just centimeters away from your clit. “Are you sure you want this? We can stop right now, I’ll go to my room, and we don’t have to ever speak of this again. Just tell me.” Kirishima searched your eyes for any remorse. If you weren’t wet before you definitely were now. Nothing was hotter than him asking you if it was okay to touch you.

“Kiri. I want you to. It’ll be our little secret.” You said reaching up and brushing the hair out of his face. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. You made the move to press your lips against his. His melted into yours passionately. You bit his lip and that was all the clearance he required.

His fingers made their descent to your clit. You hissed at the contact and your head fell back into the pillow. You spread your legs as his digits circled the sensitive bud. His eyes locked on your face as it twisted with pleasure. You moaned quietly, careful not to wake your neighbor.

Kirishima teased your hole, collecting the slickness between his fingers. “Does that feel good baby?” He whispered in your ear, sending chills down your body. You nodded unable to speak. He smirked and plunged his index finger in your aching cunt. Your back arched in response as he began his torturous assault. “You’re so sweet and tight. Fuck.” He moaned into your neck.

Using his finger to fuck your hole and his palm brushing against your clit, your mind raced to process what was happening. Ejiro Kirishima was laying in your bed, finger fucking you. Your climax was approaching as he added a second finger, stretching you to fit his large digits.

Tears pricked your eyes and your soft gasps because loud moans. He quickly shushed you and put his hand over your mouth. Kirishima squeezed your cheeks lightly before shifting to getting on top of you. “Aw baby, you like that? Let me take care of you.” He teased.

He kissed down your neck and located your nipple with his mouth. Latching on, he grazed sharp teeth against it. The two fingers began the famous come hither motion against the spongy flesh. You bucked your hips to meet each thrust. “Kiri, I’m so close.” You whinned. His arousal clear as a small wet spot formed on the crotch of his sweatpants.

“You just don’t know how bad I want to stick my cock in this tight cunt do you?” Kirishima slid your underwear and shorts down to your knees, raising your legs slightly. He continued, “I bet it would just hug it so much I’d cum instantly.” He trailed off grasping his dick.

Everything was happening fast, the room was spinning and you were desperately clinging to the sheets to center yourself. Profanities slipping from your lips as you begged for your release. “Do you think I should?” He wondered, slowing his pace down to keep you on the edge. “I mean you’re already stretched out for me and your pussy is sucking me in. Do you really want me inside of you?”

It was too much, you were speechless. The dirty talk make everything ten times hotter. Who even knew sweet, shy Kirishima could be like this. You wanted more, but you knew it’d be the end for you as soon as he put it in. “I want it. Please give it to me. ” Breathlessly you said. You whimpered at the loss of contact as he removed his hand from you. He slipped his sweatpants down and his cock sprang free, slapping against his belly.

Kirishima was a large man so it was terrifying to sneak a peak at his dick. Instead you reached over and wrapped your hand around his member. A moan left his throat as you pumped him slowly. He remained on his knees, letting you jerk him off, relishing in the feeling of not having to do it himself for once. Precum dripped onto your hand.

“You keep doing that and I’ll finish right here.” He moaned sinfully, removing the t-shirt he adorned. He thrusted into your hand, gripping your leg tightly. You kept working at the same pace. Kirishima slid off your bottoms and kept your legs still bent at an angle against him.

He replaced your hand with his as his eyes stared into your soul. “Are you sure? We don’t have to tonight.” He offered, the sweet light of your friend filled his eyes.

You might regret this in the morning, but right now it didn’t matter. “Kiri.” You deadpanned. “Fuck me.”

That was all he needed. He spit onto hand and stroked his cock again. He rubbed the tip gently against your clit. You both moaned at the contact. He slowly pressed into you until half of his cock was inside. It already filled you deliciously you were nervous about how much more you could take. He searched your face again looking for doubt. You finally grabbed his hips and slammed him into you.

Kirishima kissed you with a fire you never felt before. You felt safe. There was no more nervousness. There was no where else you’d rather be right now than under him. He started to move. You felt every single inch of his dick inside you, dragging against your walls.

You slapped your hand over your mouth to cover the lewd sounds that threatened to escape. His hair tickled your face as he buried his head into your shoulder to suppress his own moans. They were just loud enough to grace your ears. Slow gentle strokes began to grow quick and mercelous. You were closer to the edge by every pump.

Your legs wrapped around Kirishima, pulling him in closer. You clawed against his back as your release chased you. “I’m about to fucking cum, please don’t stop.” You cried as he grabbed your hands, entertwinning his with yours and pinning them against your head.

“Cum on my dick beautiful. Cum all over me.” He begged and kissed you again, his tongue forcing his way into your mouth. That was it, your orgasm washed over you like a strong wave from the ocean. He swallowed the moans that poured out from your throat. You ears rang.

When you finally came back down to earth his strokes were sloppy. His own release catching up to him. “Jesus, I’m almost there. Where do you want it?” He whinned as he stared as your chest bouncing to the rhythm of his movements. You ran your hand through his hair, pulling the roots slightly.

“Cum on my tits, baby” You egged him on pulling up your shirt. He groaned at the dirty words and pulled out before straddling your stomach. You moved quick pumping his cock to his climax. His cum painted your chest sporadically. Some landed on your face, but I didn’t even matter. You both got what you craved.

You licked your lips tentatively, glancing up at him through your eyelashes. Kirishima brushed his thumb across your lips and stuck the tip in your mouth. You sucked it off seductively and he groaned.

“That was amazing, Y/N.” He breathed and picked up his shirt from the floor to clean up his mess. You nodded in agreement. He cuddled up beside you, no fear of crossing a line anymore. You were both spent and you blissfully fell asleep in each other’s arms, unbothered about tomorrow.

#bnha #bnha x reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #kirishima imagine

[louiseleblancdiggory]

Will you marry me?

I have talked about how pregnancy and infertility are two subjects that hit very close to home here a while ago. Sensitive topics for me, and I found out that writing about it whenever it pops into my mind sometimes helps. This is a very small, very simple thing that just appeared in my head yesterday while I played Mahjong at three in the morning. I hope you guys find it is as beautiful to read it as it was calming for me to write it. 

Warnings: Infertility

“Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, will you give me the honor to be your husband?”

“No.”

For a second too long, Rowan didn’t register the word. In his mind, there was no reality in which Aelin wouldn’t accept his proposal. He had planned everything— taken her to their favorite restaurant, then to the spot on the park where they first met four years ago, made a beautiful speech, and, when he got on one knee, Rowan was sure Aelin was beaming.

But now, his girlfriend was just looking down at the ring with a sad smile.

Rowan didn’t know what to say, how to act. He was sure Aelin didn’t want to end things, so maybe she just wasn’t ready for marriage? That was such a foreign thought to Rowan, specially after the fact that they had talked about marriage for the past five months. Aelin was ready, she had said as much so many times, and yet her answer had been no.

“No?” Rowan asked, dumbfounded. He didn’t want to pressure her into accepting, he just didn’t know how to recompose himself quickly enough so she wouldn’t realize how his heart was shattering inside his chest. “Why?”

The word was barely louder than a whisper, but Aelin heard it anyways. Rowan knew because her sad smile just deepened, and when she grabbed his hand, she squeezed it tightly. “Come here.”

Still in some state of shock, Rowan let her pull him towards a bench nearby, the moon and some far away street lampposts their only company. The glow they casted had made Rowan thought that the park looked like a dream before he proposed to Aelin.

Now it was more of a sweet nightmare.

Aelin sat down, still holding Rowan’s hands. She stared at their laced fingers for so long that, after a few minutes, Rowan thought she wasn’t going to say anything, get up, and walk away.

“I had lunch with Lysandra three days ago.” She said, her tone barely above a whisper and yet her words sounded so loud as they ricocheted through the empty park. Rowan couldn’t understand how having lunch with Lysandra had to do with her refusal, and yet he found himself hanging on every word that escaped her lips as if they were food to a starved man.

“I know.” He said when she fell silent again.

“We had lunch at the hospital, I was doing my yearly check up.” She continued, still staring at their hands as if she couldn’t bear looking at his face. At the mention of the doctor, accompanied by the seriousness of her voice, Rowan’s shock was immediately substituted with terror. “Everything was normal, I did some exams and went home.”

He didn’t say anything, too scared to say a word, to ask a question.

“Some results came back yesterday.” Aelin took a deep breath, finally raising her head to look at Rowan’s face. Her turquoise and gold eyes were shining with unshed tears, and she gave him a smile that would have destroyed his heart if it wasn’t already shattered. “You want to be a dad, Ro.”

Rowan’s brows furrowed, his mind trying to catch up with what she was saying. “Yes?”

Aelin shrugged, raising her eyes to look at the moon rather than looking at him. “And I can’t be a mom.”

His mind was still trying to catch up to her words, to wrap every single inch of attention he had in his body around the meaning of what she was saying, of what she was implying. A lonely tear slid down Aelin’s cheek, and if she wasn’t gripping his hands so fiercely, Rowan would have wiped it away.

He didn’t say anything— didn’t know what to say, didn’t know if she even wanted him to say anything. Some things were inconsolable, and the only thing anyone could do to the person was just sit there in silence and let them get it all out.

Aelin’s beautiful and sad face slid back to him, small and sad smile still gracing her lips. She looked so heartbroken, so lost that Rowan wanted to destroy the thing causing her pain.

But this time there was nothing he could do.

“I am infertile.” She said out loud, more to herself than to him, he realized. By the look on her face, by her posture and the way she spoke, Rowan guessed that was the first time she was saying it out loud. She straightened her spine, staring deep into his eyes. “I am infertile. I can’t have children of my own.”

Rowan silently nodded, not uttering a word as he realized she wasn’t done talking.

“Completely infertile. No treatment, no chance of a miracle, no nothing. I will never get pregnant, Rowan.” Her face was a mixture of anguish, confusion, and, deep down, a small parcel of acceptance. “I won’t get the big belly, the pregnancy cramps. I don’t get my ultrasounds, belly kicks, and first cry. I don’t get the excitement of using a pharmacy pregnancy test, or the thrill of looking at a screen while a nurse rubs that thing against my belly to know the baby’s sex. I don’t get any of that.”

“Ace…”

“And I wanted all that.” She said, determined even as Rowan heard her throat closing up against the words. “Always have.”

Rowan nodded, squeezing her hands. “I know.”

And he did. Every time they talked about the future, Aelin included kids. Always said she wished to be a mom, wished to have a large family. She herself hadn’t had that when she was younger. Her parents died before she could form any memories with them, and Aelin jumped from house to house until she was adopted when she was twelve. For the longest time after that, it had been only Aelin and Darrow. During her first year of college he helped her learn more about her family— which led to her discovering the existence of Aedion and Gavriel.

She let go of Rowan’s hands, cleaning her face from her tears before looking at him.

“And it is something that hurts— knowing I won’t have it. But it is also something that I need to learn how to live with, because it won’t go away.” She looked so determined, so resolute that Rowan allowed himself a small spark of pride amongst the grief raging inside his chest for his girlfriend. “And it hurts like a bitch now, and it will probably never be something I am happy or even comfortable with, but I will learn how to deal with it. How to wake up everyday and learn more and more until it’s a sad reminder that sometimes pops into my mind, not a soul crushing fact.”

“Aelin—“ Rowan started even though he didn’t really know what to say.

“And I did not accept your proposal because you deserved to know this fact before tying your life to mine.” Her eyes still held some tears, but none of them fell. “I need you to propose to the whole me.”

“And I do.” Rowan said the second she finished speaking. He cradled her face in between his hand, thumb brushing over her lips. “Ace, I would propose to you no matter what.”

Her face was serious, and she blinked a few times before saying. “So you don’t care the slightest about the infertility? It’s not something that makes you think a second longer about the proposal?”

He nodded. “I don’t. It’s not.”

She took his hands off her face, putting them on his lap. “Then my answer is no.”

“What?”

She shook her head, strawberry golden hair falling from her loose braids. “This is something that should make you think longer, Rowan. This should be something that makes you stop for a second and think about what the future is going to be like. You talked about me getting pregnant before, and so don’t insult me by saying that you absolutely don’t care. You do. Just like me, you care so fucking much. But the difference between me and you is that you have a choice. You’re not infertile, I am. You can go out there and get someone pregnant, that’s not an option for me.”

“Aelin, I—“

“No. I won’t have you like this. I love you, Ro. I love you so fucking much, and I love how you feel you can love me no matter what. But I don’t need rushed and desperate demonstrations of love, not about this. I need a resonate, well thought response to something that is a big fucking deal. I need for you to understand that there will be no miracle here. I need for you to understand that you will see your friends getting pregnant, your friends’ wives getting pregnant. I need for you to understand that I will never carry your children. I love you, Rowan, but I will not be having you resent your abrupt choice to stay with me. I won’t be having you looking at me with any ounce of regret. If you want to marry me, then you will marry all of me.”

“You want me to think.” Rowan said slowly, his mind replaying what Aelin had just said over and over again.

She nodded firmly. “Not for five minutes, not for an hour. I want you to go home and think about it. To look at it and understand it.”

“And then you’ll answer my proposal.” It wasn’t a question.

“If the offer still stands.” She answered anyways.

————————————

Aelin wanted a kid.

She always had. She was good with kids, had loved babysitting during her adolescence. When she graduated from college and opened her own gallery, she made sure to have a fully white room, full of paints, just so kids could come in just to ruin the pristine walls. She loved a baby’s laugh, a baby’s smell, and smile. She loved everything about motherhood.

She would have loved being a mother.

She would love being a mother, Aelin forced her brain to correct itself.

Infertility had been a blow to every single part of her body, and the moment she read the results was like her body was trying to suffocate itself. She hadn’t been immediately overcome with grief, or sadness, or despair. For the following hour after reading the diagnosis, Aelin just sat on the kitchen floor, staring at a cabinet long enough that she almost opened a hole in it.

It hurt. It hurt like a bitch, and a part of her simply knew it would always hurt like a bitch. She knew it wasn’t the end of the world, knew there were so many more options, so many new treatments being created, and yet she simply could not bring herself to shove all those feelings away. Couldn’t force herself to pretend as if it didn’t impact her at all.

She could still be a mom— she would be a mom. Adoption had always been a part of her plans. Yes, it was something she had considered doing after getting pregnant, but adoption had been something Aelin was adamant on since she was younger. To be honest, whenever Aelin thought about the future, pregnancy was a one-time thing while she wanted to adopt at least three kids.

Maybe more.

And she would love her kids so intensely, so profoundly, that nothing but absolute love would fill her body. Just like she had been loved after her parents passed and she was adopted by Darrow.

For the first time in five days— since she read the diagnosis— Aelin genuinely smiled.

Life had been hard during the first twelve years of her life. Parents died in a fire when she was eight months, ended in the system, and just jumped around for years. People have a preference for babies, and so as she grew older and remained unadopted, Aelin’s chances of getting her own little family were thinning at the same rate her desperation was growing larger.

And then Darrow appeared.

Darrow, at first glance, reminded Aelin of a superhero movie villain. Always wearing black, a scowl on his face, and rich enough to wipe his own ass with hundred dollar bills. Whenever in public, the businessman was cold and detached, a mentor rather than father. At home, however, he was always simply Da. They never established if that was short for Darrow or for dad, but neither of them cared. Darrow had been her last hope, and he provided her enough to live a happy and comfortable life during her adolescence and young adult years. She would still call him every day, tell him how things were going with Rowan and the gallery.

Darrow had been her only family for so long, and although she loved him unconditionally, she wanted a bigger family.

“Hey, Da.” Aelin said against the phone, leaning on the balcony. “How’s everything?”

“Everything is great, m’eudail. The company is doing better than ever, and I’ve been thinking about getting a dog.” Aelin could hear him moving around, picking up papers as he probably looked for something. “But how are you? You sound different. Did something happen? Rowan?”

Aelin sighed, staring off the balcony. The day was coming to an end, the sunset painting the sky all shades of red, pink, and gold. “No. Yes. Kinda? I don’t know.”

Darrow laughed, a throaty sound Aelin doubted many people ever heard. “Why don’t you explain to me then? I’m smart, but even I can’t be that good of a guesser.”

“I’m infertile, Da.” Aelin whispered against the phone.

“Oh, m’eudail…” Aelin heard her Da’s voice full of pain for her, even when he was miles away. “I am so sorry.”

She shrugged even though he couldn’t see. “Me too. Cried like a baby for the past days, but you’ll be proud to know that I have reached a resigned form of acceptance. I always wanted to get pregnant and adopt, well, a small change in plans, but not the end of the world.”

“You’re allowed to be sad.”

“I know. I am.”

“But I am proud nonetheless.” Darrow said, and Aelin could hear a small smile in his voice. “You’ll be a great mom.”

Aelin smiled. “I know. I will.”

“And Rowan…”

“He proposed.” Aelin sighed, remembering the absolute ecstasy and euphoria that overtook her whole body when Rowan got down on one knee. She wanted to jump on him, laugh, and kiss him until they were both breathless. “Before he knew about the infertility. So I said no.”

All the moving around stopped on Darrow’s end of the call. “You said no?”

“He should know about it before marrying me. Rowan wants to be a dad.”

“He still can.” Da said. “I was.”

“Maybe he wants his wife to carry his biological children.” Aelin shrugged again, heart breaking a little. “Maybe it’s not something he can give up and not look back at it in the future.”

“I have the feeling that boy would give up just about anything for you and never look back, Aelin.” Her Da said, letting out a sigh.

“Did he tell you to tell me that?”

Darrow laughed. “Yes. Me and your boyfriend have these weekly heartfelt calls where we talk about our feelings.”

Aelin tried to contain a smile. “It would be fitting. You two have the same emotional availability.”

“We do, and you were the only one ever I ever let this close in my life, my darling daughter. No surprise you’re the only one for him, too.” He sounded as if he was sitting down, and Aelin could almost picture him on his office’s chair, rubbing his temples like he used to whenever she’d get in trouble in school and had to tell him. “Rowan’s a smart boy. Practical. I suppose you gave him time to think?”

“Yeah. A few days now.”

“I already know his answer.”

“So you do have heartfelt calls with my boyfriend.” Aelin tried to suffocate some of her nervousness. Her dad was so sure, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to be so confident. And losing Rowan would be such a painful, heart-shredding blow.

Just the thought was a painful, heart-shredding blow.

Darrow laughed, but some concern was present in his voice. “Ae—“

“I gotta go, Da.” Aelin said abruptly, interrupting him. “I love you.”

“Love you too, m’eudail.” Darrow managed to say before Aelin ended the call.

Everything was happening both too fast and too slow, and she just needed a fucking moment. She needed a fucking moment to sit down and think about nothing— no worries, no doubts. Nothing. She just wanted to have one single simple day where nothing bothered her.

She stared off the balcony until the sun had fully set, until the moon appeared and the stars started shinning. She stared off the balcony until the evening rush of hundreds of cars was substituted by hundreds of people walking around, going and coming back from places. High heels and sneakers sounded against the cobblestones, loud music from nearby bars sounded louder and louder every minute. The world was buzzing with life.

“Any particular reason why we are staring off the balcony so intently?” A low voice she’d recognize anywhere sounded from the open door separating the balcony and the living room.

Aelin didn’t turn around, and Rowan didn’t take a step forward. They just remained in silence, both looking at what felt like the whole world.

“Have been considering throwing Aedion off here. Asshole ate my box of chocolates.” Aelin murmured, and Rowan huffed a laugh in response, finally taking a step towards her.

Aelin turned around, feeling all the air leave her lungs when she looked at his face. Rowan was so painfully beautiful that Aelin couldn’t help but smile when her eyes fell on his face. He seemed so determined and so hopeful at the same time that Aelin heard her own heartbeats sounding louder than any of the sounds coming from below. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He mimicked her small smile, crossing his arms to stop himself from coming closer. He wanted, but was probably scared that one single abrupt movement would have Aelin bolting away from him. “How are you?”

“Good. Better. I talked to my Da.”

“What did he say?”

“The expected.” She shrugged, not knowing what to say.

“Aelin.”

“Rowan.”

“I thought about it.” Rowan said, a small nod of his head. “For the past days, I thought about it and then I thought about what I would tell you.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and Aelin simply assented, not trusting herself with words.

“I want kids. Always have. Different reasons than you, though.” Rowan started, looking directly into her face, eyes never wavering anywhere else. “You wanted a big family because for so long it was just you, and then just you and Darrow. I wanted a big family because I grew up surrounded by so many cousins, so many aunts and uncles, that a small family sounds strange.”

Aelin nodded automatically. She knew that, knew that Rowan’s reasons to want a bigger family and her own reasons were the complete opposite. He had a big family and wanted to remain as such, Aelin had a small one and wanted to change that.

“I might not be the warmest, but I want to be a dad. I’m not giving that up.”

“I know.” Aelin whispered.

Rowan’s eyes deepened, and his brows furrowed slightly. “But I never cared about biological children, Aelin. If— When. When I marry you, I want to adopt. More than one, more than two. I don’t care about you getting pregnant, Ace. It was never about that. I want to marry you, and I want to be the father of your kids. And that’s all. If adoption is our only choice, then I’m gonna make sure it’s our best choice. We’ll build a life great enough that no other possible reality will ever compare to. I’m gonna love you and those kids more than I could ever love anyone else.”

Rowan ended the distance between them, taking Aelin’s face gently and tilting it up. He pressed his lips softly against hers— one time, two times, three times. He kissed her lovingly and so slowly, as if they had all the time in the world.

“The only regret I could ever have about you, Fireheart, is the one I would feel every single fucking second if I let you go.” He kissed her again, wiping away tears from her pretty face. “You will be an amazing mother, Ace, and I will try every day to be a good dad. And I will love you so goddamn much every single day that you will never feel like a burden to me, because you are not one. You’ll never be a burden to me, Aelin.”

Aelin passed her arms around Rowan’s neck, chest bursting with so many emotions she could barely breathe. She let out a laugh against Rowan’s lips, damp cheeks touching his. His hands dug into her hair, pulling her face up so he could kiss her properly. It was so sweet and so loving, that if Aelin didn’t fully belong to that man already, that man would have ensured that. His warm lips against hers felt like the answers to so many questions, some that she hadn’t even asked, all ensuring her that they would be fine.

They would be great.

Rowan would always be the one for her, and Aelin would always be the one for him.

“Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, you will give me the honor to be your husband.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.” She answered anyways.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

A/N: Ok, so this was something. Again, hit very close to home. Different people will react differently to the same situation. The way I write is based on what I have seen, but just know that every reaction is valid. Whether it crushes your soul, or maybe doesn’t impact you at all, know that it is valid. it will always be valid. And that you deserve someone who will never make you feel bad about something you cannot control. You deserve greatness, how you achieve it or what obstacles are in your way don’t matter. You deserve it.

Tags:

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @annejulianneh111 @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @booksofthemoon @loveofbooksandwine @jesstargaryenqueen @bluejaberry @multifandommessblog @yesdreamblog @superspiritfestival @ireallyshouldsleeprn @woollycat22 @julemmaes @claralady @abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @maastrash @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass @heirofthenightcourt @booksbqueen @heirofthrnightcourt004

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin au #rowaelin oneshot #rowanaelin #rowaelin angst #angst #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #aelin ashryver galathynius #aelin #rowan #whitethorn #galathynius #tog #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass au #throne of glass oneshot #mardu writes #writing #my writing

[language-of-love]

hiiii! if you're still accepting, how about #23.wearing someone’s clothes. david wearing patrick's clothes because i feel like there's not enough of that yet haha. thank you!!

Thanks for your patience as I got back to writing these! Hope you don’t mind some PWP on this Sunday evening. (AO3)

❅ ❆ ❅ ❆ ❅

Even with his fingers strumming along his guitar strings, he can still hear the playful bickering coming from the other side of the door and it makes him smile. He knows how much David misses Alexis, even if he won’t say the words out loud. But Patrick knows. So after saying his hello, he always leaves them to their video chat, or more accurately, video squabble, knowing it’s time they both need...alone. David does the same for him, when he has his occasional check-ins with Rachel or the marathon chats with his Dad about baseball.

As much as he loves his husband, with the store they spend an abundance of time together and it’s good for him, for both of them, to find time spent alone. Patrick always knows when he’s hit the wall there because all the little things that usually make him want to tear David’s clothes off are instead like nails on a chalkboard right up against his ear drum. They’ve had a few moments where tongues were sharp instead of soothing and he aims to have less of that as they find their married rhythm.

But he’s been on this call with Alexis for over an hour and Patrick’s actually wishing he could have his husband back for their one day off together from the store. Stopping his strumming, he pads in his socked feet towards the door so he can listen and doesn’t hear David talking, so he assumes he must have hung up. When he steps out into their living room though, it’s empty and he sets out on a search. As he’s passing through the kitchen, he spies David’s dark, tousled hair out on their covered back deck and he goes to grab his hoodie that’s usually hanging on the coat rack by the door. But it’s missing. Looking outside again, he sees that the gray cotton is stretching across David’s shoulders and he has to grip the doorjamb as his belly does a deep, knowing swoop.

The few times David has worn his clothes have all been memorable ones and Patrick aims to add this to the criminally short list.

It’s cold when he steps outside in just his sweats and long sleeve t-shirt, but the closer he gets to David, he can feel his blood warming him in anticipation. David smiles at him over his shoulder as he approaches and widens his arms on the railing, knowing instinctively that Patrick will step in close and wind his hands around his chest.

And that’s exactly what Patrick does.

“What are you doing out here?” he mumbles, nosing the hood of the sweatshirt to the side so he can press his cheek against the side of David’s neck.

“Alexis wanted to see the snow.”

David’s voice sounds a bit wistful and Patrick angles his head so he can press a soft kiss against David’s favorite spot, letting his breath warm the cold skin beneath David’s ear as he whispers.

“How is she?”

“Good. She’s thriving, but we all knew she would.”

“We did.”

Continuing his nibbling, he noses at David’s earlobe as his hands wander inside the open front of the hoodie, loving the contrast of the scratchy sharpness of the zipper tread against his wrists as he slides his hands up towards David’s pecs. David’s hips rock backwards in silent response and Patrick steps in closer, pushing him flush with the railing.

“I proposed to you in this,” he breathes out against David’s neck, growling under his breath at the little moan that reminder manages to pull from David’s throat.

“Did you?”

Fuck.

He’s officially back to wanting to rip his husband’s clothes off, everything but the hoodie.

“You know I did,” he grumbles as he steps back and lets go of David’s chest, waiting with his hands on his hips for his husband to turn around. When he does, Patrick’s back in his space, pressing his cold thumbs against desire burnished cheeks as he draws David in to meet his eager mouth. He takes his time, licking at the edges of his lips and sucking on his tongue, both tasting of intoxicating peppermint from the candy cane David’s been savoring all morning. Only when David tears his mouth away to breathe does Patrick realize his fingers actually ache from how hard he’d been gripping the sides of the hoodie bunched up around David’s neck as he’d kissed him senseless.

“You really love it when I wear your clothes,” David pants, his breath creating a cloud that puffs across Patrick’s face.

“What makes you say that?”

His hands are already moving again though, one sliding up the back of David’s neck as the other snakes around his back, both belying his attempt at playing coy. He stumbles a little in his socks as David starts to walk him backwards towards the still open patio door, but he just holds on tighter, staring intently at David’s mouth as it curls up into that crooked smile that always makes Patrick go a little crazy.

“You’re gonna fall on your ass,” David says as he shakes his head at Patrick’s uncoordinated shuffling.

“What, you won’t catch me? I seem to remember someone being strong enough to carry me up a mountain.”

“That was adrenaline and a strong desire for cheese.”

Patrick practically trips into the door from laughing at the ridiculous love of his life, but soon finds himself gathered close and pressed up against the glass, his husband smiling at him with amused adoration.

“I love this hoodie. I love that you thought it was appropriate attire for a proposal. I love that you wore the same hoodie you proposed to me in to get your wisdom teeth removed. I love that it’s entirely incorrect in every possible way.”

Patrick’s rendered speechless, but that doesn’t really matter much since David’s lowered his head and he’s teasing Patrick’s mouth open with his lips and the tip of his tongue. It feels like his entire body is melting and he has to grab at David’s shoulders for balance and without warning, he finds himself being lifted up by strong hands hooking under his thighs.

“Oof, this might have been a mistake,” David grunts, shuffling backwards with Patrick precariously perched around his waist.

Patrick just shakes his head and rakes his fingers up into the back of David’s hair, panting from the adrenalin now speeding through his veins from the unexpected romantic gesture.

“Best idea you’ve ever had,” he declares, finding David’s open mouth for a dirty, breath stealing kiss.

“Okay, fuck. But I can only go as far as the couch.”

Patrick’s too busy pressing kisses onto David’s cheeks and temples to respond, happy to be carried anywhere with a flat surface where he can get his hands on more of David’s skin. When he finds himself being unceremoniously dropped onto their couch, however, he wishes he’d maybe given David just a tad bit of direction. With his breath knocked from his lungs, he’s not able to put voice to what he wants next, instead, grabbing frantically at the ends of the hoodie so he can drag David forward and down onto his lap.

“I think I threw my back out,” David complains as he widens his hips and settles his knees deep in the couch, his hands taking purchase of Patrick’s shoulders as he finds a comfortable position. They’re both half hard though, so as he digs his hips in, they both let out audible groans.

“Totally worth it,” Patrick declares as he hooks his fingers under David’s t-shirt to lift it up inside the hoodie up to his underarms.

“I think that’s something only I can decide.”

David’s hands are just as active as he gestures for Patrick to lift his arms so he can pull his shirt up and over his head. Finally, with their bare bellies pressed tight and David’s hands framing his face, Patrick turns his head to press a kiss into David’s wrist.

“David.”

“What?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

David’s eyes narrow momentarily as if he’s thinking of maybe bantering a little bit longer, but Patrick slides one hand back from its perch on his thigh to take a firm hold of his ass and their mouths are officially done talking for a while. They put their lips to much better use, kissing every inch of naked skin and breathing out curses as fingers and tongues find all the places that drive each other crazy. They end up on the shag rug in front of the couch, limbs all akimbo, Patrick’s hand slick from David’s precum pulling hard on his cock, with the hoodie spread open beneath David’s beautiful body writhing from Patrick’s touch.

Patrick slides his mouth from the crook of David’s neck down in search of his nipple, relishing the gasp pulled from David’s lips as soon as his teeth graze the sensitive nub.

“I’m close, fuck, do that again.”

He does and he can feel David swell beneath his fingers in response and it’s a heady rush, the control he has, the knowledge he’s gathered of the myriad of possibilities he can choose from to make David come. He opts for his favorite.

Lifting his head, he leans down so he’s spread out along David’s side, his own aching cock pressed into the side of David’s thigh and his mouth right up against his ear.

“You’re so beautiful like this.”

“Patrick…”

“The strength of your muscles pulsing in your thighs, the silky hair on your belly wet with sweat, you’re gorgeous, David. I could watch you come all night long.”

“Oh god, baby…”

“Fuck, David, you know I love when you call me that.”

Patrick’s control slips a little and he grinds his hips forward, desperate for some friction. As he groans into David’s ear, David shifts and he finds himself being dragged over on top of David on the floor.

“You know what else...,” David pants, eyes dark as espresso as he looks up at Patrick’s face and locks his arms low around his back. “...I love about this hoodie?”

Patrick’s so off balance he can only manage a head shake, too focused on how good David feels beneath him, their cocks pressed close between their bellies as Patrick brackets his legs wide over David’s thighs.

“It’s machine washable.”

Before Patrick can ask what he means by that, David’s hands splay wide over his ass and grind him forward, and fuck, Patrick is fully on board with some good, messy frotting.

“David, fuck, you feel amazing.”

“You too, baby.”

Patrick seeks out David’s mouth and tries to kiss him, but he’s too close to coming and ends up muttering against his lips instead, how much he loves him, how badly he wants them to come together, all sorts of endearments he knows David loves to hear.

“Harder, god, Patrick, we should do this more often.”

“I know, oh fuck, come with me, David, please.”

As Patrick’s orgasm builds, he plants a hand beside David’s head and rocks his hips as fast and deep as he can, relishing how David’s hands have tightened to the point of bruising his ass cheeks as he drags him down harder. He’s not entirely sure who comes first, but mere seconds later they’re both shouting their release and collapsing in a shuddering, sticky heap.

When he’s able to breathe again, Patrick reaches for one of the throw pillows that fell off the couch and wordlessly, they maneuver onto their sides and place their faces close together on the small pillow. Patrick kisses David’s nose and he smiles in that bashful way that causes his chin to dip a little and Patrick’s heart pangs with love and devotion for this beautiful, complicated man he somehow gets to call his.

“Don’t you agree now that this rug was worth the price we paid for it?” David jokes. Patrick knows him so well that he lets him change the mood to something less charged.

Reaching up, Patrick hooks his fingers around the collar of his hoodie and tugs David an inch closer on the pillow.

“I think the value of a thing grows exponentially the more it’s used, so ask me again in a few years.”

“Are you implying your $20 hoodie is currently worth more than our $3000 rug?”

“Yes, yes I am.”

David’s eyes narrow a little as if he’s thinking about it and Patrick smiles as he finds himself being pulled in for a soft kiss. When David pulls back, he’s smiling, too.

“I’ll allow it.”

#david x patrick #david rose #patrick brewer #schitt's creek #schitts creek #my sc fic #Anonymous

[finalgirlbee]

what is love

baby don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me, no more

just kidding! I finally got around to writing some nsfw art the clown x reader! 

this was actually so much fun to write and I hope y’all like it as much as I do! reader’s pronouns are never stated but they are described as having breasts and a vagina.

minors dni, sorry but this is s p i c y also im 23 and that's creepy

You cupped the demon’s painted face, white greasepaint smudging off onto your fingertips as you kissed him desperately. You inhaled his acrid breath that tasted dry as soot, pressing your body into his as if you were afraid that he would fade from this physical realm at any moment and leave you naked and yearning in his wake. It’s as though sometimes you couldn’t believe he was real, if you were even really seeing him, or if he was some kind of sick delusion. A shadow on your wall, a wail in the wind, a demon formed from every sin you’ve ever committed, a punishment for every wretched human deed that only you could see. 

    He kissed you sloppy, black drool pooling from his swollen bottom lip that you had caught between your teeth in a soft bite, and he soon returned the sentiment, hard enough to draw a bit of blood that he swiftly lapped up, savoring the taste and the feeling of the warm, coppery morsels cascading down his throat. One of your hands moved to caress the back of his head, smooth and soft fabric covering his skull with nothing but a little black hat placed delicately atop. Everything about him was soft and delicate, you thought, an odd juxtaposition to who he really was. Soft silk suit and gloves, sweet collar ruffles and pristinely painted white skin, smooth enough that you could barely see an open pore. He soon left your mouth, all puffy and wet and bleeding, in favor of your neck, dragging his own lips from yours down to the pulse of your jugular, leaving a trail of red. He kissed and suckled there, using his teeth to apply pressure with the gentleness of a lover, a kind of softness that you never knew something like him was capable of expressing. With one of his hands on the small of your back, the other made its way to the other side of your neck, clutching a sharp, shiny scalpel that he teased along every twitching vein and muscle. He did not press hard enough to cause any real damage, but enough to leave several small cuts that beaded with fresh blood and sent new, pulsing waves of heat to your core. You were so willing and ready for him to take you, a perfect, pliant little human that accepted their fate so easily. Perhaps this was why he kept you around, why he thought of you so much differently than every other victim that he slaughtered without a second thought. There was a warmth growing in the pit of his stomach for you. It couldn’t quite be called love, but it was a feeling sweet enough to keep him from driving the blade of the scalpel into your neck and ending you right then and there. He was a demon, a being born from hate. You wouldn’t fault him for not being capable of something as pure, and as human, as love.

    He brushed his exposed fingertips, rough and blackened with grime, over the fresh cuts on your neck, stinging from the salt and sweat on his skin. Your breath caught in your throat as he brushed a calloused thumb over a particularly deep cut, fondling the broken skin as though he wished to tease it open further, tear the skin on your tender neck open and bathe in your saccharine blood. The hand on the small of your back slid its way up in favor of cradling the back of your head that hung loose and heavy as he toyed with the slices on your neck. He held you oh so gently, soft waves of hair weaving between his fingers, and he looked into your pleading eyes so intensely that you thought you might faint. He was this awful entity that knew only greed and hate, birthed from the belly of Hell, from every wicked human atrocity committed across lifetimes. And you, oh you, led to him like a lamb to the slaughter, practically skipping to your eventual demise. His perfect, sweet little human toy who fell into his arms so easily, who made the air around him hang so thick that it curdled with fear and desire. You needed him, craved the dreadful horror that he brought into your monotonous life, and it made you feel giddy inside that of all people, he chose you to spare, to enjoy and savor and use and fuck, to feel something warm and soft and full of love and life underneath his cold, tainted hands. You were out of your mind, he thought, to allow him to put hands on you, and maybe that’s why he liked you so.

    He dragged the scalpel down your chest, stopping at the swell of your breasts, where he tossed the tool aside to have both hands free to explore every corner of your soft body. Your breasts filled his hands so perfectly, kneading them and biting at your nipples, eliciting little gasps of arousal from your parted lips. You opened your legs for him, exposing the heat of your dripping cunt to the cold nighttime air, your slick beginning to pool on the old metal examination table on which you sat. He was enamoured with you, with every curve and dip of your waist and hips, every little twitch of your brow when he found just the right place on your breasts to suckle and bite at, working violet bruises into your skin that he admired like they were the prettiest little things he’s ever seen. With a big smile, he cupped your face in his hands and placed a kiss to your forehead, absolutely smitten with you, and how beautifully you accepted him. You gave him a soft smile back, burying your face into the ruffled collar of his suit. “Art, please,” you breathed, unable to take his teasing any longer. You needed him at your core, where you were so wet, so ready for him to wreck your innocence and taint your purity with every ounce of his corrupted seed. It drove him absolutely wild to hear his name whined so desperately from your lips, your sweet little voice giving him almost as much satisfaction as the sound of a blade being driven cleanly into a still-beating heart. He wasted no time in untucking his weeping cock from his suit, slapping it against your sopping pussy before he slid himself inside with ease, bottoming out as he held you flush against his body. You took a moment to catch your breath, feeling him inside you, blissfully and indescribably full as you felt every inch of his cock nudged up against every sensitive spot within you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, planting soft kisses against his cheek, breath heavy against his ear. “Please, Art, please, make me yours. I’m yours,” you nearly begged, bucking your hips up gently to let him know that you were ready for him. He didn’t need to be convinced any longer, beginning to roll his hips in time with your own, pistoning his cock into the tight, wet heat of your greedy cunt. 

    You couldn’t hold back, screaming obscenities into the silent night air as he fucked into you, which only seemed to drive him crazier as his motions became faster and rougher, one hand gripping your ass for purchase and the other moving down to your pussy, his thumb beginning to make small circles around your clit that only served to draw you closer and closer to your eventual end. You were never truly certain that he even cared about your own pleasure, only using you as a husk to get himself off when he didn’t feel like murdering somebody, but as he drew firm circles around your swollen clit, pounding into the heat of your cunt and hitting that spot inside of you that made your toes curl and your head tip back, you knew that something inside of him must have cared enough to make sure that you were feeling just as good as he was. You opened your eyes for a moment, half-lidded and hazy, to capture his face, brows furrowed in concentration, black-painted lips hanging open in ecstasy. No matter how close you were to his face, or how silent the world around you was as if you were the only two people alive, you could never hear him make a sound. Not even a soft hint of a breath left his parted lips as he fucked you, as if somebody had ripped out his vocal chords as punishment for his horrific deeds. It only served to remind you that the man, the thing, pistoning his cock into you wasn’t entirely human, and you accepted it without a second thought, allowing him to corrupt you down to the deepest pit of your belly. His name left your mouth like a prayer, begging and wailing for him to fuck you deeper, fuck you harder, make you his, take every last shred of innocence you had left within you and turn it into vile black sin, until it all became too much to bear. Your cunt clenched hard around his cock and you came, and you cried into his silk suit because it was all too much to bear; the sensation in your stomach, in your pussy, reaching all the way to your heart and squeezing like a vice, threatening to black you out as he continued to fuck ravenously into your aching cunt. Tears streamed down your face as you hung limp in his arms like a ragdoll, just letting him use your body until he, too, seized up and poured his wicked seed into you, filling you up until it leaked out around you in thick black globs. His teeth gritted together in a snarl as he came, nostrils on his prominent nose flaring  and his dirty nails sinking into your lovely, soft flesh enough to leave angry crescent moon indents. Your pussy continued to pulse around his cock, the gentle aftershocks of your orgasm, milking every last drop of perversion from his body until he stalled his shallow thrusts into you and slowly slipped out of your throbbing cunt, clumsily tucking himself back into his suit. You noticed he didn’t wipe off any of your slick juices and the remnants of his own cum. 

    He rose to full height, no longer hunched over you on the table, and his lips slowly curled into a fiendish grin, exposing yellow teeth and rotting gums. He was obviously proud of himself, proud that he stole your innocence, your very last droplet of purity, and made you his, made you his beautiful little depraved whore. He held your thighs apart still, watching with a dramatic expression of amazement as his dark seed slowly leaked from your pussy. Your cheeks were hot with embarrassment and you felt a shiver run up your spine from both shame and the cold, dank air of the abandoned warehouse. You let your resolve be broken so easily, you thought, as the clown stood before you and reached long arms up to cup your face in his hands that had just a hint of warmth to them. He began to make a big show of silently laughing at you in your disheveled, shameful state, always taking the most pleasure from somebody else’s pain. He brought a hand down to your pussy and hooked two long fingers into you and you let out a surprised gasp, and he grinned wolfishly at you as he slid them back out, glistening with your mixed essence, and held them up to your lips. You knew what he wanted, and you were not in a state to refuse, so you obediently took his digits into your mouth. You nearly gagged from the humiliation that he seemed to take great joy out of, forcing his fingers further down your throat until you were gagging and spitting, and he swiftly removed them before you vomited. He stuck one saliva-coated finger into his mouth, savoring the taste of you, sweet and warm, on his tongue. He removed the finger from his mouth with an obscene ‘pop’ , and then as if there was a lightbulb appearing over his head, he wagged his finger at you to ‘stay right there!’ And disappeared into the other room, quickly emerging with a rather soft and cozy looking blanket. Probably stolen from a victim, you thought. He draped the blanket over you, and the stomach-lurching thoughts of the unlucky previous owner of the blanket swiftly left your foggy brain as it provided you with a pleasant warmth. He bent over to give you a peck on the cheek, and made a pillow with his hands as he pretended to fall asleep. You giggled a bit at him and his theatrics, and you attempted to make yourself as comfortable as possible on the table to have a much deserved nap. “Thank you, Art,” you sighed, your eyes slowly shutting, and you soon drifted off into a quiet slumber, Art rubbing your head and playing with your hair with gentle affection all the while. Maybe he would keep you around a little while longer, he thought, curling a strand around his finger as if deep in thought. He wasn’t ready to kill you, not yet. He needed to see just how much farther you would go for him, how much more he could break you before delivering the final blow. Just one more night, he told himself, one more night and he can break you, he can tie you up and bash your skull in with a hammer and it would be all over, all over as you would bleed out over the floor, over his hands, over his shoes, over his heart. But, would the strange, bubbling warmth in his stomach that he felt every time he looked at you ever allow him? You weren’t as disposable as the others. You were different. 

#art the clown #art the clown x reader #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #clownfucker #clownfuckers #coulrophilia #my writing

[bisexualdaemon]

In His Calvins

a/n: Oh, hey. I was mad at Shawn over this photoshoot so I had to punish him. That is all. Enjoy 💜 Thanks to @pattinsonshawn for some key ideas. Love you, babe. 

| Masterlist linked in bio |

warnings: hahaha this is 3.2k of fucking filthy sub!Shawn smut

“Cut! Let’s check that.”

Shawn exhaled in a gust. It was hell flexing and making it look natural, like his muscles weren’t’ screaming for release every time the director said action! He’d been shooting for Calvin Klein all afternoon and into the evening, doing fifteen push-ups between takes. The pictures were going to look incredible, it was just fact. He took pride in his body, you could tell in the casual way he carried himself, and he’d worked his fucking ass off for it. Hitting the gym almost everyday for five years had led him here, to his body on a fifty foot billboard in SoHo for everyone to see. To standing in front of a camera in nothing but a pair of white boxer briefs looking like a modern Greek god.

“Okay, Shawn. I think we have what we need,” the director called from the booth. Shawn jumped down from the platform he’d been walking on and shrugged into a big, fluffy gray robe. The oil clung to the loose fibers, making it a little sticky. He couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel and shower, maybe FaceTime if it wasn’t too late. He knew you liked to go to bed at reasonable hours and there were three time zones between the two of you. It sucked, especially on a day like today when he just wanted to tell you how amazing it all went and how good he looked.

He showered in the makeshift trailer they had on set and decided to go back to the hotel. Niall had called earlier, said something about maybe going out later, but Shawn was wiped. When he was in the big black SUV on the way, he got a text.

You: wanna talk before I go to bed?

Shawn: sure...wanna do more than talk? 😏

You: omg shut up maybe

Shawn: I can tell you all about my shoot...if you’re lucky maybe I’ll give you a sneak peek *wiggles eyebrows*

You: 🙄 call me when you’re back at the hotel

Shawn smiled down at his phone. Honestly, he’d choose facetiming with you over any overcrowded West Hollywood bar Niall could possibly take him to. He shot his friend a message begging out of plans. The car rolled up to his hotel and he quickly snuck into the lobby, narrowly avoiding being seen by the paps constantly haunting the entrance.

“Shawn?”

I know that voice. Whipping around, he stared at you in disbelief.

“What are you doing here?!” he was so surprised he couldn’t move. You took him in, white Calvin Klein tee barely containing his chest, and sighed. Getting up from the chair you’d been waiting in for an hour, you approached him slow so he could fully accept and process the fact that you were in fact real and standing in front of him.

“Not even a ‘happy to see–”

You couldn’t even get your sarcastic comment out before his lips were on yours. They were full and wet and covered in cherry flavored chapstick. God, you’d missed him. His arms came around you and enveloped you in his warmth. You ran your hands up his chest, noticing the way he gasped a little into your mouth when you grazed over his sensitive nipples, and threaded your fingers into his damp curls. He smelled like sandalwood and bergamot and boy. It was intoxicating. His tongue ran along the lower seam of your lips, begging for deeper entry but you stopped him, breathing heavy against his mouth.

“Shawn, we should go upstairs.” His head popped up and swiveled as if he’d completely forgotten that you were in full view of the public and not in the privacy of his room. He blushed hard, pink rising in his cheeks down to his jaw and disappearing into the neck of his t-shirt. You giggled behind your hand, reaching up to ruffle his curls.

“Come on, big boy, tell me about the shoot,” you grabbed his hand and made for the elevator. By the time you reached his suite, he was buzzing with energy, so excited about how the day went.

“God, babe, I wish I had some proofs or something you could see. I just felt so confident all day.” He shut the door behind him, sighing in disappointment at not being able to share it with you. Turning back toward him, you stalked over and slipped your fingers underneath his t-shirt, fingering the sparse hair under his belly button. He tensed beneath your touch, flexing his fingers to claw at his sweatpant-clad thighs, itching to touch you but afraid if he started he wouldn’t be able to stop.

A devilish idea crossed your mind when you saw an instant film camera sitting on the nearby desk, surrounded by Polaroid cartridges. He’d been playing around with cameras a lot lately, taking it as an opportunity to bond with Connor. You caught his eye, smirking, and his own widened.

“What if we have our own photoshoot, baby?” Leaving him panting, you walked over to the camera and picked it up, quickly inserting a fresh film cartridge, “you can show me all your hot moves.” You smiled all toothy at him and shook the camera in one hand, ignoring his jaw hanging somewhere on the floor. He’d been nodding since you’d called him baby.

“Pick your jaw up off the floor, Mendes. Time to strip.”

You’d never seen someone disrobe so fast. His sweats and sneakers were shed in a puddle on the floor, the white tee quickly following. All that was left was a very tall, very fit curly-haired boy in a pair of white Calvin Klein boxer briefs. Fuck, is he really all mine? It was astounding sometimes, the reality of him. All that skin. His abs rippled in the low light of the room. He cleared his throat.

“Uhm, babe, are you gonna use that camera?” the corner of his mouth lifted, “or are you just gonna look at me?” You shook your head to clear the fog, much to his amusement. Putting the camera down for just a moment, you evened the playing field, slipping your black skater dress up and over your head. His breath caught in his throat mid-chuckle when you revealed a matching hot pink lace bra and panty set, the demi bra hiding just enough to make his heart race.

“Now that we’re even,” you picked up the camera again, “get up on the bed and pose for me.”

Shawn blushed, that pink tint in his cheeks sending blood rushing between your legs. The ache almost doubled you over, acute and intense. He crawled up toward the pillows, situating himself in his best underwear model pose. Starting with a casual look to the side, his arms crossed over his bent knees, you snapped the first photo. The camera spit out the white square and you fanned it out like they did in the movies, barely able to rip your eyes away from him.

“Very nice, Mr. Mendes,” it developed quickly, the lower saturation evident in the lighter blue edging of his waistband, “let’s try another one.” Getting up on your knees on the edge of the bed, he looked over and spread his knees a little, widening his arms to hug the backs of the pillows. His skin glowed in the light, naturally or from a slight sheen of nervous sweat you weren’t sure. Honestly, you didn’t care.

“Look at me, baby,” Shawn followed your direction and you snapped the shutter again, barely able to keep your hands from shaking. His eyes looked black, darkened with lust, the usual light brown traded in for a dark molasses. At this point the camera was just a prop, the roleplay a farce in light of what was about to happen. You dropped the developed Polaroid and moved forward, crawling on your hands and knees toward his spread legs. He stretched out his legs to accomodate you, letting you straddle his hips, hovering just over where he wanted you most.

“One more...a smile this time,” you grinned to encourage him, lifting up the eyepiece to your face as he stretched his arms behind his head, his lips splitting into a radiant, heart-stopping smile that took your breath away. Somewhere a shutter snapped. It might have been in your hand, but you weren’t sure because it wasn’t there two seconds later.

Shawn had thrown it down the bed.

He pulled your face into his, immediately groaning into your mouth as he pushed his tongue inside. Licking into you, he played with your tongue, remembering how good you tasted. His hands were in your hair, on your waist, running up your shoulders. They were everywhere. He was everywhere. Your tongue, your nose, he filled your senses. You ran your hands down his chest and this time he gasped when you focused on his nipples. Smiling against his mouth, you trailed a line of kisses down his jaw to his neck, over his developed chest, and down to the tiny pink peaks that screamed at you through his shirts all the goddamn time.

You circled one with your nose, enjoying the feel of goosebumps that rose up in response. His breathing was ragged, a contrast to the silence in the room. He combed his fingers through your hair, an encouragement but not a command to just fucking devour him.

“Tell me what you want, Shawnie,” you whispered against his skin, your breath flowing over his straining nipples. The sound that burst from him, somewhere between a whine and a moan, was glorious. His fingers shook in your hair as he pieced together enough control to form a broken sentence.

“Mouth...on me….”

“Oh?” you pressed a close-mouthed kiss to his hardened bud, “like this?” He whined again, his chest lifting up off the bed to prolong the contact.

“More.” His voice was straining, raised an octave above his normal pitch. You locked eyes with him, a serious set to your brow.

“You’ll take what I give you.” His face fell. Brat. You lifted up and settled back against his thighs, close enough for him to feel the heat radiating from you through the thin cotton of his poster boy underwear. Pushing him back with a spread palm, you leaned down again, flattening your tongue and licking a wet stripe through the center of one defined pectoral.

“Oh, fuck,” he mewled, spurring you on. Taking his pert nipple into your mouth, you flicked and licked and sucked, his hands braiding into your hair to hold you against him. You ground hard into his lap, moaning into his chest when you felt him impossibly hard against you. He squirmed underneath you, bucking, grinding, trying to feel something, anything more than what you were giving him. His hands started to roam, to grab, to try to control. Trailing your tongue in one last loop, you bit down.

His cried out, his body going rigid and stilling immediately.

“Good boy,” you purred, shifting against him, your wet panties leaving a damp spot on the fabric that still contained his straining cock, “now don’t move again until I say.”

He nodded, his curls whipping in and out of his eyes with the vigorous movement. Gripping the expensive hotel comforter, sweat collected on his brow, the heat from his body deepening the gorgeous blush creeping down his chest. He was a vision under you, chest heaving, his mouth hanging open, panting, with the effort of staying still. You could tell that he’d like nothing more than to rip your panties off and fuck you into oblivion, but you weren’t going to let that happen. Not until you said so.

Unhooking the pink lace behind your back, you arched back to give him a show. A little extra torture in his current state. He whipped his head to the side and closed his eyes, overwhelmed and unable to look at you.

“Ah, ah, baby,” you leaned down to whisper in his ear, “I want you to look at me when I take you inside my wet cunt.” Shawn moaned at your filthy words, opening his eyes. They were so fucked out, dark and glassy with lust. You grabbed his chin and pressed a searing kiss to his lips before sliding back down his legs, keeping your eyes locked.

You slipped your hands beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs, fingering the brand name stitched into the elastic. He was so fucking hot like this. You wondered what Calvin Klein would think having their big new ambassador writhing and moaning incoherently in their underwear. What an ad that would be. Grabbing hold, you ripped his Calvins down his legs. He sprung to life before you, resting, weeping against his lower abdomen. You crawled back to his hips and exhaled, wet and hot, along his length. He flinched, a long, low moan cascading from his chest.

“I can’t...I need…” he muttered disjointed phrases. His hips were digging a hole into the mattress, resisting the urge to seek friction where he wanted it. His phrases soon turned to low whimpers. Watching him, you couldn’t be sure he was coherent. In fact, when you settled back above him, panties forgotten, and pressed your dripping wet heat against his cock, you watched a tear travel down his temple and into his hairline.

But before you’d let him fuck you, you wanted to play with him first. Instead of taking him inside, doing exactly what he wanted you to do, you brought your hand down your stomach, lower, through the little thatch of hair, and rubbed soft circles around your swollen clit. He looked down at your hand and groaned, his cock growing harder beneath you. You continued to rub, applying firm pressure, grabbing and pulling at your own nipples, head thrown back. Moaning. Moaning so hard he could feel them through your lips wrapped around him. The fire in your belly stoked, coating his cock with your warm wetness. His mouth hung open like his voice was caught in his throat.

“Tell me what you need, baby,” you shifted, your voice fucked out, pulling a hiss from him before he could answer, “I know you wanna please me.” His whole body was wound up tight, biceps straining against the pillows where he clasped them to keep from moving. You could tell he wanted to move, needed to move, or he was going to lose it before ever feeling inside. He wasn’t going to last long, but the night was so very long.

“Shawn,” you commanded and he blinked, coming out of some place deep inside himself, finally seeing you. “Answer me.”

“I...want you…” he paused to draw a ragged breath, “to ride me.”

“Oh, I’m so glad,” you lifted a few inches off his hips, gripping the base of him and ignoring his gasp, “because that’s exactly what I want, too.” You sank down, all the way down, and felt the pleasure-pain of him stretching you, felt his pulse inside you. Leaning back, almost far enough for your hair to graze his thighs, you braced yourself and slowly shifted your pelvis in a circular motion.

“Jesus, fuck,” you breathed, “Shawn, you feel so good.” His eyes were closed again, savoring the moment. Instead of a command, you used a much more effective tactic. You reached up, thanking the gods for daily stretching, and pinched his still bite-reddened nipple.

His eyes blew open, the pupil almost completely consuming the iris, “ohmygodohmygodohmygod.” You loved it when you rendered him wild and irrational. It was the perfect time to lift up, separating your hips from his, and quickly slam back down, your skin slapping in the wettest, filthiest sound.

You established a rhythm that way, hard and fast and wet and smooth and totally obscene. Shawn’s hands came to rest on top of your thighs, massaging your muscles while your fingers took purchase in his hair. He never tried to take control, not once. Not even when you took his hands and guided them over your abdomen to your breasts, his rough fingertips grazing your fucked sensitive nipples. The veins in his neck stood out from the strain of his complete restraint. He was fighting so hard. You could tell from the sweat pooling in the valley of his chest, the scrunched set of his brow, the fucking sound of his rough and uneven breaths, coming in bursts now.

“Shawn,” you shook your head in pleasure, “Shawn, fucking move with me. Take me now.”

The sound that came out of him. A growl….no, a snarl. It was the sexiest sound you’d ever heard.

He lifted off the bed at the waist and brought his arms around you tight, pressing you firmly against his chest. You kept a firm grasp on his hair, forcing his face up to yours and taking your fill of his mouth as he rutted up into you. Over and over and over again he hit that place inside you that only he ever had.

The noises that filled the hotel room were lewd, vulgar. Wet skin against wet skin, curses that strung together. You were close and you knew he was too. You could feel his body twitching in his shoulders, his abdomen, his thick cock thrusting in and out of you. The ocean threatened on all sides. The wave was coming. There was only one thing you had to do to make it all come crashing.

You moved in close, taking the tiny silver hoop in his ear and tugging a little before whispering, broken and rough but sugary sweet.

“Are you my good boy?”

He couldn’t fight it anymore.

His back arched and he yelled his release, gripping your hips tight to still them against his. The pulsing sensation of his thick come inside you sent you over the edge, a moment of complete white, followed by oversaturation. He collapsed backward onto the pillows, you following on top of him, breathing asynchronously. His chest lifted you up in progressively longer intervals as his breathing evened, fingers tracing patterns on your back.

“Holy fuck, babe,” he let out a chuckle, “I wasn’t expecting that.” You propped your chin up on his chest and smiled, blowing a piece of hair out of your face.

“You never answered my question,” you fingered his chest hair, scratching lightly at the skin with increasing pressure, eventually leaving a set of livid red marks in the center of his chest.

“Are you my good boy?” you asked, like it was the simplest question in the world.

He twitched inside you at the implication, the promise of what was to come no matter what his answer. They had all night. And he recovered quickly. He smiled into her strawberry-scented hair and tried to make his voice as level as possible.

“What if I want to be bad?”

😈

permanent taglist: @justanotherfangurl272  @siennarossi @trustfundshawn @alone-in-madness @rodneywaber @harryandmolly @thatindiannerdygirl @the-claire-bitch-project @mendesromano @fromthicctosticc @esoltis280 @thotfulalena @softmendesss @sinplisticshawn @nedthegay @september-lace @itrocksmysocks @disaster-rose @mendesoft

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn peter raul mendes #my writing

[jenomark]

Take Care of Me

○Pairing: Jungwoo x Reader (Female) ○Other Members/ Characters: X ○Genre: smut  ○Warnings: oral (m), hand job, face-fucking (m) ○Word count: 2,389

→Summary: You and your make-out buddy, Jungwoo, finally want to have penetrative sex, but neither of you have a condom. 

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  He’s smiling and suddenly you’re counting the number of his teeth. He looks so angelic when he smiles, his cheeks rising to meet the halo on top of his head. You lean in a little. Your eyes can’t stop staring at the curves of his lips, the way his tongue touches the inside of his mouth like it’s playfully waiting for you.

“Have you eaten today?” he asks.

  He already knows the answer. You can see his mind filing through it’s thoughts, a mental Rolodex of everything he wants to say. If he can make a witty quip, he doesn’t have to discuss what he wants. He closes his lips and gives you a drowsy wink of his eye. You smile and cover your mouth with your hands. He never fails to make your cheeks turn scarlet. You feel a little bit like a teenager, but it’s a tenderness you miss.

  When Jungwoo kisses you, a hand falls naturally to the side of his face, the other on his neck. You can feel his adam’s apple bob as he opens his mouth wider to let you in. The tip of his tongue samples yours carefully, little soft licks keeping you relaxed. He throws a long leg over your thigh and shifts his body closer so that your stomach’s are touching. Where his stomach is hard, yours is squishy. This kind of intimacy with someone always feels strange, but never with him. With Jungwoo, every kiss and every touch has always been enjoyable.

 “Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.” he sings.

  You laugh into another kiss. Your bodies rock back and forth until his body snaps into yours like it’s a missing piece. You’re breathing heavily. He’s kissing you aggressively, his hand combing down your sides and in between your thighs. It’s the first time either of you have explored each other like this. Previously, everything has been mild. You love making out on his bed, holding his hand when he’s walking you home at night. More often than not, you would fall asleep in his arms, your life being the only thing lucky enough to fuck you. 

   Almost since the beginning, you’ve craved the idea of having sex with Jungwoo. Ever since the first day he made you laugh, you’ve been falling for him. There was something about the way he responded to you that made you feel cared for and loved. Jungwoo opened you up, prying everything apart like he could add more things inside to keep you safe: stability as a friend, trust and familiarity, little blossoms of hope to bloom in the future. You dreamed about how it would feel if he was above you, inside of you. There wasn’t a lot of promises made towards your friendship over the months you have known him, but those few things are what keep you going. You know he feels it, too. There is something so satisfying about the two of you together, like the world couldn’t wait for you to say hello. When you did, life became a little bit brighter.

  Jungwoo’s reputation is fittingly innocent. He has only kissed one person before you, and his concept of love is puppy-like. He never tried to flirt, never did anything bold, and definitely wouldn’t have kissed you if you didn’t kiss him first. All Jungwoo wants is your love and affection, for you to stay close to him when life gets a little rough. You can see how easily nervous you make him feel whenever you are around him. For awhile, you’ve been feeling like it’s time to take things a little further, but you are always worried about the state of his heart. He is a lot less experienced than you, and he rarely talks about what he needs from you.

   “Jungwoo.” you say.

  He slows down kissing you. He rubs his body against yours and settles into you, his neck buried in the crook of your neck. You scratch his back, and like a cat, you swear you hear him purring.

 “I feel so happy.” he says.

  The timing feels right. He looks down at you and pouts before he kisses you again. For a second, you think he’s going to stretch his body back onto the bed and cuddle with you. You support him taking it slow, support how he wants to progress the relationship in his own time. Surprising you, Jungwoo bites on your bottom lip. The move is so sexy that you can’t think of anything to say. He pulls back to get a better look at how speechless you are. The light in his eyes seems to change when he sees the way you’re looking at him: shock trying to register in your gaze, the blush on the apples of your cheeks. There isn’t anything cute about either of you now. You’re both raw enough for the other to see. 

 “Do you have a condom?” he asks.

  You ask him if he’s sure he wants to have sex. You don’t answer the question about the condom. You want him to be okay with his decision, to be okay with his first time being with you. Jungwoo doesn’t give you a long speech, just tells you that he’s sure. You kiss him longingly, wrap your arms around his neck, and pull him closer. He laughs, his loud laughter making some of your own nerves dissipate.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” he asks.

   You note the fear in his eyes, the crack in his voice , and the way he keeps  jutting out his lower lip like he might cry if you tell him you don’t like him like that.

“Yes,” you say. “God, yes.”

 Jungwoo smiles, but he cannot keep the tension out of his forehead. He doesn't know what move to make next. It’s like he can’t remember how to kiss you, or how you like to be touched. His hands hang limply, his eyes mapping out your skin as if he’s trying to remember his way back before he gets too lost. You know you’ll have to take over, giving him a memorable first time. You grind yourself against him, wanting Jungwoo to feel a little bit of your enthusiasm. He relaxes a little, his shoulders lowering gradually, and the lines on his face disappearing.

“It’s okay,” you say, your voice coming out in a whisper. “I’ll take care of you.”

   Mid-kiss you realize that you don’t have a condom. In your haste to finally seal the deal, you have forgotten that you came to his dorm on a whim.  When you pull away, he thinks something is wrong. Jungwoo asks you if he’s doing okay, if you’ve changed your mind about him. You put a hand on his arm to calm his anxiety over the situation. 

“I would never change my mind, Jungwoo. I want you,” you say. “ But I don’t  have a condom. Please tell me that you do.”

   When he shakes his head no, you feel a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. The feeling is quickly replaced by acceptance. It’s not a big deal to postpone the sex. When he realizes that neither of you have protection, Jungwoo feels the same way.

“I’m okay. Are you okay? “ he asks.

  The sweet glance he gives you makes all of the sorry feelings disappear. You don’t want to disappoint him, but having safe sex is the most important thing. Jungwoo falls to his side on the bed, detaching himself from you. He kisses your cheek, his nose smushing against it. He looks so happy, his energy boundless. 

“I know something else we can do.” you say.

“What?”

  You push Jungwoo back onto the mattress. He laughs at your eagerness to please him, at the determined way you climb on top of his legs. He rests his hands on your thighs and peers up at you.

“I want to please you.” you tell him.

 You place your hand where his cock is, and feel him. You’ve only felt him once during an intense make-out meeting, but he ended it out of embarrassment. This time, Jungwoo lets you touch him. He’s confident, his body rising to meet your hands.

“Please me?” he asks, giving you an eyebrow raise.

 You kiss him, just a small peck on his lips. Jungwoo’s caught off guard and doesn’t get enough time to kiss you back before your mouth is on his neck. A long hiss of air comes from his throat as you begin to suck on his skin. His neck is long, and there are many places to leave your mark on him. Jungwoo raises his arms above his head, his fingers trying to grip onto everything in sight. You don’t let him get too comfortable. You leave him and sidle down his body, stopping only to lift his shirt up and kiss the sensitive skin around his belly button. He’s ticklish and sucks in more air than he can handle.

“Is this good?” you ask.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I want you to come today, Jungwoo. Can you do that for me?”

  Jungwoo nods frantically, his lips sticking together when he tries to open his mouth again.The room feels more humid. You slide your hands up his abs and chest, his sweat making the path easier for you. When you touch his nipples, the purring sound returns. You lift his shirt up higher and use your tongue to draw circles around the little bud. His body is trembling beneath you. You want to call him out for it, but you fear it will make him worse. You want Jungwoo focused enough to keep his eyes locked on you.

  You look down at his cock. You can see him through his pants, the bulge bigger than before. You ignore it. Jungwoo notices, his eyes widening as you move upwards to kiss him again. Your kisses are slow while his body is wanting to move fast. He wants you to take care of him like you said you would. You move back down towards his cock. You don’t want to draw it out any longer than you have to. You don’t want him to come in his pants before you can get your mouth around him. It would be interesting to see his facial expressions up close as he releases his load, but you really want your body to be the cause of his first orgasm with another person.

 “I can’t hold out much longer.” he says.

  Jungwoo’s honesty turns you on. You pause with your hand on the button of his jeans and look up at him. There is a warm smile threatening to break your character. He smiles enough for both of you, the sweat pouring down his cheek as he does. He leans his head back. His throat is exposed, his adam’s apple making itself seen again. You unbutton his jeans, and he’s concentrating on the movement of your fingers.

“I love this.” he says.

“I didn’t do anything yet.”

“You don’t have to. You’re here with me.”

  You unzip his pants. The atmosphere feels less desperate and more calm. It feels like you’re with a friend. You watch him watching you, his eyes a little glazed over. You yank his jeans and underwear down his slim waist, tugging so hard he moves down the bed a little. You both break out into laughter until you free his cock and everything gets silent.

   Without saying anything more, his cock is in your hands, and then in your mouth. You’re able to fit nearly all of him inside, your nose hitting his mound of black pubic hair. The first time he feels your tongue against his shaft, he lets out a high-pitched moan. There is no time for Jungwoo to feel embarrassed as you work at him. The wetness and the warmth of your mouth on his cock makes the little muscles on his face twitch. Your eyes take in all the little details you don’t want to miss: his eyelids fluttering, the way his belly rises and falls , and his fingers pulling at a thread on his blanket. You take him out of your mouth and pump him in your hands so you can watch him.

“Do you like watching me?”

“Yes.”

  Jungwoo moans, his eyes going from your hands, to your face. You hold your hand still around his cock. You loosen your fist a little and smile when Jungwoo lifts his hips up to start fucking your hand. He thrusts gently, watching your face to see if he’s doing it right.

 “Fuck me,” you encourage him. “Fuck me like you’re inside of me.”

  You lean over and spit down onto your hand, smoothing it down over his cock so he can glide a little better. When you still again, Jungwoo starts fucking your fist more feverishly, the bed squeaking every time he brings his hips up. His face is contorted, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head. You moan his name every time you watch the tip of his cock slip out of the top of your fist. Abruptly, you remove your fist and replace it with your mouth, laying your tongue against him. Without being directed, Jungwoo starts fucking your face. You only get to feel him a few times before his body tightens and he tells you he’s going to come.

“Look at me.” you say, taking hold of his cock in your hands.

  Jungwoo looks just in time to see his cum squirting into your mouth. Each spurt makes his back arch a little more. When he’s done, he settles back down onto the bed, his body exhausted. You lick the head of his cock, letting him see his load still on your tongue. When you swallow him, he can’t stop gaping at you.

“ I’m sorry it was so fast.” he says.

“Don’t be. It was good.”

“I want to make you come.”

“You will.”

  You take his cock again and slowly jerk him a few times. His mind is spent, but his body looks like it’s ready for another round. You don’t know if he can come a second time, but you’re determined to find out.

“Let’s see if you can last a little longer this time, baby.” you say.

#jungwoo #kim jungwoo #jungwoo fanfiction #nct #jungwoo smut #jungwoo smut fanfiction #nct smut #as always forgive mistakes and stuff #i edited this to its death and i am tired of looking at it #so there is bound to be a little bit of typos or something i am sure

[all-blue-headcanons]

Hello, guys! First of all, please accept my apologies for being a little quiet lately and not really doing much of anything. This is a difficult time of year for personal reasons that I don’t really want to get into, but thanks to a very lovely person who has been so very patient with my slack butt, I finally feel a lot better in some things and wanted to give them a little something in return. So here it is, because Trafalgar Law is an absolute bae and you all seemed to enjoy that Sanji post a while back... here’s our Surgeon of Death in that style!

Trafalgar Law Headcanons - SFW and NSFW Edition

SFW Headcanons

+ It goes without saying that Trafalgar D. Water Law is not an easy person to get close to whether it’s either on a physical or emotional level. The less ‘opportunities’ that his many enemies know they have in weakening the Surgeon of Death, the better, so it takes time for him to open up his heart as well as feelings on the matter of getting into a relationship. + No matter how busy he is, the man always does his best to make time for his crew. Nobody knows better than Law that life is too short to hang onto trivial things; every day is lived like it could be his last, for it might well be given his position as a pirate and feeling that every second spent with his crew is never enough. This goes double for somebody he takes on as a partner - it’s a very real fear of the man that he might lose you like he’s lost family in the past. + If you are lucky enough to catch his interest, Law will take the relationship slowly. Very slowly. It’s very much a ‘slow burn’ as he tries to sort his feelings out regarding his partner; he cares about you as much as he does the rest of his crew, but with somebody holding his metaphorical heart, it’s a very complicated matter so please don’t rush him. + You should know by now that there is a lot of subtle intimacy with this man. Law isn’t big on public displays of affection, whether from himself or his partner, but he will do small things that aren’t very noticable unless you’ve known him for a long time. Walking with his partner while their arms are linked at the elbows, how he always holds open the door for them to go first. The way his fingers brush your hair on occasion as though he’s smoothing down a stray lock of hair, but somehow you just know he needed to touch you that moment, as though he were reassuring himself of something... + One of his favourite things to do is playing with his partner’s hands, especially if they are completely different from his own. Law’s hands are large, strong and with slender fingers, calloused yet deft enough to wield a scapel like a swordsman does his loyal blade. He particularly enjoys how soft and small his partner’s seem in comparison against his own, rubbing his thumbs over their digits and delicate palms. He can do this for hours if you let him, the two of you merely enjoying silence together as he plays with your hands. + Despite his dour reputation, Law can be quite the playful man as well as a brutal tease at times. On a hot summer’s day, expect him to get an ice cream with the rest of the crew and wait for the moment until you look his way; his eyes will instantly lock on yours, holding your gaze fast as his tongue deftly licks and swirls over that ice cream as though hinting what he’d like to do to you. Nobody but you will see this happen, and Law will act like nothing happened, only expressing concern at how hot you appear that moment... + “My my... it seems the sun’s gotten a little too much for you, Name. You should go lie down somewhere cool, make sure to drink water too.” + Absolute. Fucking. Tease. Once he enters this stage in your relationship, you’ll know things are getting serious between the two of you. + Given his interest in collecting rare coins, one thing you can do that would absolutely make the man’s day would be to find one he hasn’t gotten already. Flawed coins, misprinted coins, ones so scarce they’re rumoured to have all gone; it doesn’t matter whether it’s as insignificant as being the lowest worth in value, the fact his partner actively took note of one of his personal interests is enough to make Law a giddy mess inside. His smile is noticably wider for the rest of the day, the man stealing occasional shy glances at his love while holding his new coin. + Given his position as a doctor, you can be sure that Law will be exceeding concerned about your health and will frequently look up ways to keep you in tip-top condition even if you’re already in perfect health. Fruits rich in Vitamin C, supplements for long voyages, carefully stocked medicine if you do have a pre-existing condition; Law is aware of it all, keeping meticulous track of things like vaccination dates and health checks. + If you ever get cramps, especially bad ones and have to go to him, he’ll drop whatever he’s currently doing and pull you close. He understands pain unlike anybody else and hates for his partner to experience that, as well as knowing how awful it can make people feel both physically and mentally.  + “Shhh,” he’ll mumble into your ear as he puts you into his bed after giving you painkillers, slipping in along with you. He’ll cuddle you and hold you close, his warm hands gently rubbing soothing circles over your lower belly and back as he hums a comforting tune against your ear. Like Sanji, the man is an expert at massages and you’ll find it hard to stay awake in this position, Law lulling his partner to a peaceful nap. + “Sweet dreams, and feel better soon.” He’ll smile, pressing a kiss to his love’s forehead as he quietly gets up and gets back to work. 

NSFW Headcanons

+ The first time you mention wishing to have sex together, Law appears as though he’s calm and in control... internally however, the man is a mess! No amount of research will ever be enough for him; everybody is different when to comes to physical intimacy, has different reactions and their own unique tastes and interests in the bedroom. While he wants to find out all of yours, Law is also terribly afraid of making your first time with him an awkward or even horrible experience. He’ll shut himself away in his work office during this period of time, preferring to postpone the inevitable than be upfront about dealing with his fears. + It’s not that he doesn’t care about his love’s opinion or intentionally shut them out, since it’s more about the fact that he feels as though he needs to be the best partner he possibly can, never once wishing to hurt or frighten his lover though his own ignorance. He may or may not be very experienced when it comes to sex in the past but it doesn’t matter; it has to be perfect. + Once his partner comes to see what’s wrong, Law will be... hesistant somewhat, not quite his usual self. He wants this so very much, wants you desperately but is unsure of the right words, the instigation necessary and whether or not it’s really the right time to be doing this. Again, this is where patience comes in handy and acting like nothing is wrong; once Law sees his love behaving as they usually do, the man will begin to relax, becoming far less standoffish as his usual cheekiness comes back into the fray. Play along with the man, match him word for word and return the banter and soon he won’t be able to keep his hands off you... + The first time goes waaay better than Law or his lover expected, with him becoming a panting, heated mess who clings to his lover for some time even after the fun has ended and the deed is done. He doesn’t want this moment to end, not just yet, nor does he want to get up and resume his usual activities as captain. Just... stay for a while with him, please, and let the both of you enjoy this rare peace of resting with somebody well and truly loved. + Doesn’t really care much about oral but likes to give it more than being on the receiving end. That wicked tongue of his can make your toes curl, those wicked eyes darkening with mischief as he studies his partner’s varying expressions throughout his merciless foreplay. The quiver of your thighs pressed against his cheeks, how you tremble when his goatee tickles your sensitive skin... it is positively delightful in this man’s eyes watching you unravel under his expert touch. + After all, he has excellent knowledge of human anatomy, knowing all the best spots to make his lover beg... + Law’s good at oral, but what the man REALLY enjoys is getting to use his fingers. There are few things this man enjoys more than making his partner cum several times in the space of a few minutes just through the use of his wonderful hands alone, tattooed digits caressing his lover’s innermost depths as they hook, entwine, scissor and rub at unseen pleasure spots within. Few sights are more captivating than getting to see his partner writhing on their back in bed, begging him with sobbing cries and shuddering breaths to just get on with it and screw them already! + Actual sex can vary a LOT with Law. Usually he enjoys making love; such slow and tender sex is an act is more about satisfying the emotional aspect of your relationship over the physical but there are times where he can be just as rough, raw and primal, driven by sudden and ferocious need. You’ll never know exactly what he’s in the mood for on any given day; it’s to do with his emotional state and how much he craves you in that particular moment, the tenderness of emotion battling against raw and desperate need to acknowledge that you both of you are real and alive. + When it’s the latter, expect him to make you beg until you’re almost in tears before he finally gives you want you want. He’s just a tease like that. + There are always apologetic kisses after rougher bouts of sex. There’s no stopping Law from holding you close as he kisses away the aches of nips and hickeys that were just laid across your delicate skin, the man genuinely rueful whenever he does so. Never once does he go overboard however - hurting you is the last thing he ever wants to do and no matter how hard he wants it sometimes, it will never be at his lover’s expense. + Big fan of bathroom sex! Law likes his environments to be as clean and quiet as possible so the bathroom is the best place for that, where getting cleaned during and after sex helps keeps suspicions about what activities just ensued hidden. Despite his best efforts, somehow the crew always knows and the man will not meet anybody’s eyes over the course of the next morning. + Last but not least, you think he’d be a fan of nightime sex but the opposite is actually true! The old sleepless nights of the past are long gone now, with Law preferring to actually sleep with his partner if he’s not too busy. What used to hold dread for him is now a cherished part of his day, with plenty of lazy spooning, cuddles and tangled limbs until you both wake up in the morning, ready to start off another day... + “Good morning, lover...” you’ll hear him purr sensually, those dark eyes hooded with affection as he pulls you close to him, lips already laying a tender trail of butterfly kisses across your neck as he slowly wraps his arms around your waist. You understand there and then that it’ll be a while before either of you get out of bed.

#trafalgar law #one piece headcanons #op headcanons #sfw headcanons #lemon headcanons #lemon is the new not safe for work okay? #I don't like my shit getting flagged #ANYWAYS just a smol and late gift for somebody for being such a sweety #You know who you are #ANYWAY SORRY THIS IS LONG #AND IT TOOK A WHILE #Head's not been in the right place lately but getting over that now #one piece hcs

[squishykpoptummies]

A Magical Halloween

a/n: i literally meant to have this up over a fucking week ago oops but like. better late than never?? (there’s so much dialogue and plot unrelated to kink i’m sorry.) so this is a harry potter au because i’m a fucking nerd and i feel like there’s so much untapped potential there for shit like this. i have a bunch of headcanons, as well as where i think everyone is sorted, so let me know if you’d like to see them? (also i don’t have anyone using honorifics bc they’re in england lol)

--

“It sucks that we don’t celebrate Halloween properly here.”

Ten was sprawled out on one of the squishy couches in the Hufflepuff common room, head in Taeyong’s lap as the older absentmindedly played with Ten’s hair. Though the common room was mostly empty, the few Hufflepuffs there were giving the two a wide berth, still not quite accepting of having a Slytherin in their living space, despite Ten being a consistent fixture for the past three years and proving himself to be (relatively) harmless.

“You say that every year,” Taeyong replied.

“Because it’s the same every year,” Ten whined. “Just some fucking pumpkins and a feast. Trick-or-treating is the best part of Halloween, and you’ve all just fucking done away with it!”

“Most Wizards find trick-or-treating offensive. Your family was a rare case. Also if you keep cursing we’re going to get kicked out.”

Ten hummed. “Halloween is my mum’s favourite holiday.” She’d insisted on taking Ten and his sister trick-or-treating every year until he went to Hogwarts, regardless of if her Wizard husband liked it or not.

“I didn’t know that.”

“It’s my favourite holiday, too.”

“That I knew.”

“Do you think we can institute trick-or-treating this year, Mr. Prefect?”

“Did you miss the part where I said it’s offensive?”

“No, I heard you, I just chose not to listen.”

Taeyong sighed, but smiled fondly. “As soon as we graduate, I promise we’ll go trick-or-treating.”

Ten huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. He looked up at Taeyong, large eyes gazing back. “Wanna know the best part about trick-or-treating?” Ten asked lowly, voice taking on a teasing lilt.

“Sure.”

“Stuffing myself silly with all the candy I get.”

Taeyong flushed pink.

Ten sighed as he sat up, stretching his arms over his head and making sure that his jumper rode up, just a bit, just enough to reveal a sliver of his soft tummy. “Shame we have to wait three years to be able to do that.”

“What if,” Taeyong wet his lips, “what if we start this year?”

“What are you implying?”

“Honeyduke’s had candy.”

--

It was frustratingly easy to sneak into Hogsmeade and back. (“Did you want to get caught?” “Yuta just always made it sound so thrilling, and it wasn’t!” “You do realise he probably makes up most of those stories.” “Fuck off.”)

Smelling of sugar and the butterbeer they stopped into the Three Broomsticks for, they made their way back to the Hufflepuff dorms, bulging bags of Honeyduke’s candy hidden under heavy winter cloaks.

Ten spred out their haul on Taeyong’s bed when they got to his room, Taeyong hanging one of his ties on the door handle before closing it.

“We gonna finish this all today?” Ten asked, separating the chocolate frogs from the peppermint toads.

“If you want,” Taeyong shrugged, sitting on the bed next to Ten and helping with the sorting.

“I want.”

--

Ten did, in fact, finish all the candy (save for a still mostly full box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Bean that Ten refused to touch after claiming to have gotten a foot-flavoured one) in little under an hour, Taeyong hand-feeding him each piece, followed by making out, sucking Ten off, palming himself through his trousers, leaving them both red and disheveled and panting.

“We should get ready for the feast soon,” Taeyong said a while later.

“You can’t be serious,” Ten groaned.

“Don’t forget that I haven’t eaten yet,” Taeyong said, untangling himself from Ten and starting to vanish the piles of wrappers strewn across the bed and surrounding floor.

“You go then. We wouldn’t be able to sit with each other, anyway. And Doyoung’s gonna make fun of me.”

“Why would he make fun of you?”

“Because it’s pretty obvious that I just ate my weight in candy.” Ten gestured to his stomach, sticking out a good few centimetres even laying down, barely contained by his jumper.

“I think it might be the biggest we’ve ever done…” Taeyong mused, heat pooling in the pit of his stomach, which he tried to will away for now because they really didn’t have time for another round right now.

Ten ran an appraising hand over the curve of it. “Mmm, I’m not sure. I think it’s been bigger.”

Taeyong’s hand joined Ten’s, feeling over the soft skin stretched around the mass of food. He pressed down lightly, and Ten groaned, but it was his ‘I’m really turned on’ groan rather than his ‘I’m in pain’ one. “I think you can eat more,” Taeyong said softly.

“I think you might be right.

--

The Great Hall was in chaos when they arrived, everyone still scrambling to find seats next to their friends, and Taeyong immediately rushed off to the Hufflepuff table to try to contain it. Ten scanned the room until he saw his group of friends at the Slytherin table, Doyoung, sporting bright purple hair that definitely hadn’t been that colour this morning, waving him over. He self-consciously adjusted his robes, and squeezed himself between Doyoung and Jaemin, a third-year that Doyoung had recently adopted.

“The hell did you do to your hair?” Ten asked as he sat down, breath immediately knocked out of him as his trousers cut harshly into the sensitive skin of his belly.

“Jaemin just learnt Colour-Changing Charms.”

“You look like a grape.”

“Thanks.”

“Can I practise on you, too, Ten?” Jaemin asked from his other side.

“Maybe later. I’d look pretty good with aqua, don’t you think?”

Jaemin’s eyes sparkled. “Ooh, yeah, you’d look wicked cool! What if—“

Jaemin was cut off when the numerous dishes in front of them suddenly filled with food, conversation forgotten as the younger boy hurried to fill his plate before all the good stuff was gone.

Ten surveyed the array. Was he hungry? No, not in the slightest. Was he still going to eat? He looked up and met Taeyong’s eyes from across the Hall, flushed cheeks apparent even from this far away. He smirked. He was going to give his boyfriend a good show.

He dug in eagerly, food rich and settling heavy in his stomach, yet taking seconds and thirds because Hogwarts food was honestly irresistible, Taeyong’s gaze burning him all throughout. But, he needed to keep it subtle, God-forbid anyone catch on (though he had to admit that thought sent a thrill of arousal through him).

But Ten was about to explode. And pudding hadn’t even been served yet! He rested his chin in his palm and absentmindedly mashed his fork into his second helping of potatoes. He could still probably eat a bit more, but it’d be a gamble, with the potential of turning painful. Maybe if he unbuttoned his trousers…

“What’d those potatoes ever do to you?” Doyoung broke him out of his reverie.

“They reminded me of your face. That was a terrible retort, sorry, if you give me a minute I’ll think of a better one.”

Doyoung rolled his eyes.

“You need to step up your game, man,” Donghyuck, another third year and one of Doyoung’s children, interjected.

“And you need to stop eavesdropping,” Doyoung said, flicking Donghyuck’s forehead.

“Excuse you, I was having a perfectly civilised conversation with Nana over here.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re butting in.”

“Every time you call him ‘Nana’ it makes me think of my grandmother.”

“Who asked you?”

“Your mum.”

“That was terrible.”

“Your mum was terrible.”

“Would you stop with the ‘your mum’ jokes? They don’t even make sense.”

“You’re just too old to understand.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you, Hyuck.”

“I’d like to see you try, old man.”

“I hate you all.”

“Look, pudding, now stop fucking bickering.”

Never a dull moment at the Slytherin table. Ten shook his head fondly, and scooped a bit of pie and ice cream onto his now cleared plate.

“You’re having more?”

Ten felt his cheeks colouring. “No, I just filled up my plate to stare at it- yes I’m eating more, I’m fucking allowed.”

Doyoung tsked. “You’re gonna get fat,” Doyoung said through a mouthful of his own ice cream.

Even more heat went to Ten’s face, blood rushing down to his dick. Now was not the time to get hard, damnit. He shrugged, and took a bite.

Ten only managed the one slice of pie, but he was able to eat several scoops of the ice cream, going down easily and leaving him panting slightly. As casually as he could, he felt down orb of his stomach, tight and hot and hard, waistband of his trousers suffocating and straining against his girth. Fuck, his button was going to pop. He was going to have to undo it. Seeing that his tablemates were deep in conversation, he fumbled with the button, growing increasingly frustrated when it wasn’t coming undone.

“What are you doing?”

Ten’s head shot up to meet Jaemin’s questioning stare. “Nothing,” he said, too quickly.

“Damn, you really ate a lot,” Jaemin jabbed a curious finger into Ten’s stomach.

“Ow, quit it.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“Why’d I do what?”

“Eat so much, especially since you already seemed pretty full when you got here.”

“Nothing gets past you, does it, Jaeminnie?”

“Nope. Can I do your hair now?”

Ten sighed. “Why not.”

“Colovaria.”

It felt like his hair got shocked with static, though it still lay straight when he ran his hand through it. “How do I look?”

“Huh.” Jaemin pursed his lips.

Ten sighed again. “What did you do?”

“Well, it’s not quite the colour we were going for.”

“I figured. What is it.”

“Red.”

Ten slumped in his seat, burying his head in his arms. “Whatever,” he mumbled. “I look good in anything, anyway.” He was starting to slip into a food coma, and he wished more than anything that he was in bed getting well-deserved belly rubs from his boyfriend.

An indeterminate time later, Doyoung was patting his shoulder and saying, “Get up.”

Ten groaned, and did not get up.

“Your hair looks stupid.”

He groaned again.

“Taeyong, come collect your boyfriend!” Doyoung called out. “I think he died. See you later, then,” he said to Ten before walking off.

“I think he ate too much,” he heard Jaemin say quietly to, presumably, Taeyong.

“I’ll take care of him,” Taeyong softly replied. “Thank you, Jaeminnie.” Ten felt Taeyong slip into the seat next to him. “I like your hair,” the older boy said, brushing his hand through it.

“Third years learnt Colour-Changing Charms.”

Taeyong hummed. “It looks nice. Jaemin did a good job.”

“I asked for aqua.”

“Well, he still managed to turn it.”

“You Hufflepuffs are too nice.”

Taeyong ruffled his hair. “Let’s get you to bed, shall we?”

Ten nodded, leaning into Taeyong’s side. “I’d ask you to carry me, but you have the upper body strength of a noodle.”

“Hey!”

“I’m getting too fat to be carried, anyway.”

“Hey,” Taeyong lifted Ten’s chin, eyes meeting each other’s. “You’re beautiful.” Taeyong gave him a soft peck on the lips. “At any weight.”

“You literally say that multiple times a day.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true.”

“I believe you, I believe you, now can we please go back to your dorm? I’m so fucking full and I’m really turned on right now.”

So Taeyong helped Ten to his feet and helped him waddle his way to the Hufflepuff dorms because there was no way he was going back to Slytherin like this.

Ten collapsed onto Taeyong’s four-poster bed in his blessedly empty room, Taeyong hopping on soon after and closing the curtains around them. “I don’t know how long we’re going to have alone,” Taeyong explained.

Ten nodded, not really paying him much attention as he struggled with his trousers button once again.

“Need any help there?” Taeyong asked.

“No, no, I got it.” He tried to suck in his gut, which was simultaneously agony and erotic, but it still did not budge. Fuck this stupid button, honestly. “Do you remember the cutting charm?”

“We are not going to destroy your trousers just because you’re too stubborn to let me help!”

“They’re my trousers; I can cut them up if I want to!”

“You’re ridiculous.” Taeyong swatted Ten’s hands away and deftly undid the button. “See? Was that so hard?”

Ten breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, babe.”

He watched over the dome of his stomach as Taeyong traced the angry red indents the trousers had left behind. “We should try to pop the button off next time,” the older boy mused.

“I thought you said I wasn’t allowed to destroy my clothes,” Ten teased.

“D-different circumstances.” Taeyong’s blush was high on his cheeks as he continued to explore the expanse of Ten’s overfilled tummy. “You’re so hot like this. If I knew my roommates wouldn’t be back soon I’d totally ask you to fuck me.”

“And normally I’d be totally down for that, but if I were to move that much I might actually explode. Could you settle for cuddles instead?”

Taeyong gave an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose.” And then he flopped down next to Ten, pushing the younger boy over to make room. His hand found Ten’s stomach again, pulling Ten’s shirt up to his chest for better access.

Ten melted into the touch, nuzzling his head into Taeyong’s shoulder. “This was fun,” he said. “Let’s do it again next year.”

“Y’know…” Taeyong met his eyes, gaze warm and sparkling. “I think I just might have a new favourite holiday.”

#the title is so fuckin cheesy smh #nct #taeyong #ten #harry potter #au #harry potter au #writing #stuffing #belly rubs #halloween #taeten #i gotta say it was weird as fuck not using honorifics #like wHaT dO i cALL yOu? yOUr nAME??