1K CELEBRATION » MAKE ME CHOOSE: @nnazyalensky ASKED -> DIEGO ROSALES OR CRISTINA ROSALES
↳ “The bad things can't matter more than the good things.”
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Another giveaway request, for @saradika ! Tired Commanders, let them rest.
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911verse's 1k celebration
↳ top five 9-1-1 episodes as voted by our followers:
#3 · jinx (s04e06) – 35 votes
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Requested by @sighonahurricane and @thomashelbyswhore (thank you so much)
summary - Tommy Shelby finds out his soft wife's hidden desires.
word count - 675
warnings - smut, 18+, language.
A/N - this title sucks but I couldn't think of anything else.
This fic was lots of references to Lady Chatterley's Lover and I've italicised them. You don't have to read the book, but know that it has a lot of filth for something written in 1928
Tommy Shelby was rarely late for work. Today was one of those days. He had misplaced his leather holster and after years in the business, he knew going out without it was a direct invitation to trouble.
And so he was rummaging in every drawer, every cupboard, every shelf for his protective gear. While in his important search operation, every inconsequential thing which came in the way was thrown around carelessly, until a dog-eared book made its appearance.
Lady Chatterley's Lover
Normally, despite the triggering title, he would have disregarded the book, considering his wife was obsessed with reading everything. But the book's position; in the bottom drawer of the closet, hidden underneath bundles of socks and handkerchiefs made him curious. But mostly suspicious.
He slowly picked up the book and noticed you had earmarked a few pages. For no reason except to quell his casual curiosity, he flipped the book open.
His brows shot up to the ceiling at what he read next.
"Fuck." He said softly. (Y/N) had quite a few explanations to give, and he had quite a lot of work to do.
You were standing in front of the the piano, lazily playing the familiar tunes of Beethoven when someone wrapped his arms around you.
"What are you playing?" Tommy murmured, gently resting his chin on your shoulder.
"You're still here. No work today?" You asked and turned your head slightly to look at him.
In response, his hand reached out to press a key.
"You're out of tune." You said with a teasing smile.
Your eyes met, and you noticed his icy blue eyes held a hint of mischief.
"What?" You asked.
"Nothing. I was just thinking about what it is to touch thee." He said as his hand moved forward to trace the soft bodice of your dress.
You stiffened. What. The. Fuck.
Meanwhile, his hand reached to caress your breast as he continued to press soft, heated kisses on your neck.
"Tommy..." You hunched your shoulders, unable to think coherently about your revealed secret.
"Yeah?" He asked, not pausing his slow torture of your breasts.
"Did you...?" You gasped, arching into him against your will.
"Did I what, (Y/N)?" He asked innocently.
"I...I think Frances needs help with setting the table." You tried to pull away, but he pulled you back instantly, his hard length digging into your back.
"Why did you earmark that page, eh?" He murmured in your ear, his breath warm and arousing on your skin.
"It's bad manners to snoop." You said with as much primness as possible when your entire body was on fire.
"Can't help it when my wife is such a whore." He smirked as he rubbed the hardened nub of your breast with his thumb.
Your mouth fell open. Did he just...? He was known to be callous, but crude? Never.
Somehow, his crude words managed to increase the dampness in between your thighs, and you tightly pressed them together.
Perhaps noting your distress, he finally spared your tender breasts, making you groan loudly at their desertion. You pressed against his hard body, your need rising by every second.
"We'll get there." He consoled as he placed a possessive hand on your hip, then slowly inched the flared skirt of your dress up.
"Tommy, someone..." You said weakly as you touched his hand.
"There's no one." He reassured, resuming his ministrations until cold air brush against your legs.
Touching the damp centre of your cotton knickers from behind, he taunted, "You are a little whore, aren't you?"
"Oh, God." You moaned loudly, unable to hold back anymore.
"I could die for the touch of a woman like you."
"Oh, my God, Tommy. You didn't." You gasped. Did he read everything your immoral mind and body had found relish in?
"I did." He confirmed, teasing the hot space between your thighs in a painfully slow pace.
"Please." You sobbed, itching to feel him inside.
"What?" He asked, unperturbed.
"Do it. Now. Here." You ordered finally, rubbing against his hard length with ferocity.
"Gladly, your Ladyship." He murmured and pressed a kiss on the side of your forehead, before doing everything, and then some.
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AOSEDIT’S 1K FOLLOWERS CELEBRATION
Favorite Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. episode by member
@bobbiamorse: 2x21 & 2x22 - S.O.S. Parts 1 and 2
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congratulations! 📚 could you do promos 4 & 7 from the smut with Natasha Romanoff???
by the way, I hope you have a great day/night!
Relationship: CEO!Natasha Romanoff x Reader
Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, fingering, dirty talk - 18+, minors DNI
Word Count: 1.7k
A/N: I went a bit CEO!Natasha with this one - hope that’s okay, I thought it lent well! Also, thank you! I hope you're having a nice day/night as well :)
You really didn’t want to go and Natasha knew this but she was also quite the persuasive one, having such a dominance to her that you could rarely, if ever, say no to.
So, that’s how you found yourself a bit grumpily sitting in the car passenger seat while your girlfriend drove you two to whatever charity banquet this was.
Natasha was constantly getting these invitations being the high-up, fancy CEO that she was and usually you were fine with them. You liked the little appetizers and flutes of champagne. You especially liked your girlfriend parading you around, showing you off to fancy city people.
But tonight just wasn’t the night for you. You had had a ridiculous day at your own job and frankly, you just wanted to lounge around with your girl, maybe order pizza, and have lazy sex. Natasha had shut down your idea, saying she already RSVP’d for you two. Grudgingly, you shoved yourself into a dress and let her whisk you away
Little did she know, though, that you weren’t letting down easily. You had some potential ideas for the night, hoping that maybe — just maybe — you can rile Natasha up enough to keep her focus just on you and not the millionaires trying to network.
Upon arriving at the event, you hunted down the first tray of champagne you could find, taking a swig of the alcohol promptly. Natasha followed your path, stopping every now and then to chat, but once she was free of the schmoozing, she marched right towards you. An arm made it was tightly around your waist.
"What is your problem?" She gritted in your ear just below a whisper so no one could pick up on the tension. Your eyes darted around the room
"Nothing," you responded, taking another sip of champagne.
Natasha scoffed. "Well, you’re acting like a brat." She grabbed your glass out of your hand. You gasped but before you could protest, Natasha asked, "Is this because I made you come here tonight?
You shot her a look before taking back your champagne and finishing it off. "I’m gonna go get another drink."
Before your girlfriend could pull you back to her, you were already on a rampage for the bar. Luckily, no one tried to stop you. Thanks to your relations with Natasha, you had worked up a bit of your own status but it wasn’t like anyone genuinely cared. You weren’t negotiating deals.
You leaned on the bar and signaled for the bartender. You asked for something a little stronger. He nodded politely and got to making the drink. You turned your attention to the freshly polished wood of the bar.
Running a finger over it carelessly as you waited, out of the corner of your eye you noticed someone approach beside you. It was a man you somehow didn’t recognize. He looked very well put-together, almost like he was trying too hard, with his designer pressed suit and hair that could go up in flames from all the product in it.
You tried to ignore him, turning your attention to the bartender who was still at work, but it was hard when the man was not-so-subtly inching towards you. This wasn’t going to go very well, you thought. But you weren’t stopping it.
"In need of something to get you through the night?" The man suddenly asked. Your gaze shot over to him.
He chuckled, "I meant the drink."
As if on cue, a glass was placed right in front of you. You wrapped your hands around it, slowly bringing it to your lips for a sip as you eyed the stranger. He was watching you quite intensely.
You hummed, delighted by the cocktail. "These things can sometimes be…draining."
He sighed. "Tell me about it."
The conversation fell into a lull. You tried glancing around at the other patrons, all completely oblivious to the bar, but just couldn’t shake this man and his eyes which were still watching you. They shamelessly took in the curves of your dress and even lingered a bit on your chest.
Your stomach dropped as you suddenly saw him step even closer, his finger lightly brushing your arm in the process. You froze but still made no chance to dash away. Maybe your goal of annoying your girlfriend tonight was going a bit too far…
"You know," he began, his voice dangerously low, "if you wanted to sneak away for a bit—"
"She doesn’t," Natasha gritted as she suddenly approached you two. You just about let out a sigh of relief as her arm came around your waist, pulling you into her side. You yelped at the action, stumbling a bit, but she held you tight.
The mystery man looked you two over, a bit of a pleased expression graced his face. But he didn’t press further, probably very deterred by the daggers Natasha’s eyes were shooting at him. He collected his drink from the bar and raised it at you two as if in some awkward toast.
"Fair enough, ladies," he said, and then he was back in the crowd, lost in the sea of aristocrats.
You didn’t know what to do now, opting to stare down at your drink.
"What the hell was that about?" Natasha asked.
"I- He just came up to me," you pouted.
Natasha shook her head in disappointment as she began walking you two away from everyone else. You didn’t know where she was leading you until you were roughly pulled into the women’s restroom. It was empty, thankfully, and you heard the turn of the lock as you placed your drink on the counter.
"He just came up to you," Natasha repeated. She was sauntering over, looking very much more like some powerful CEO than your sweet girlfriend. You gulped and gripped the edge of the bathroom sink. "He may have came up to you but I didn’t see you making any moves to walk away."
"And you let him touch you," she scoffed. "Don’t think I didn’t see his fingers on your fucking arm." For emphasis, she gripped the spot he had brushed over. You yelped. "What made you think he could do that, hmm? What, did you forget who you belong to?"
"No, Natasha, I didn’t mean—" You pleaded but she wasn’t buying it.
"I’m not buying it," she said as she roughly turned you around, her back pressing your front into the bathroom counter. "In fact, I think you need a little reminder."
You held your breath in anticipation as Natasha began gathering the skirt of your dress. You knew what she was going to find underneath. And you certainly knew it wasn’t going to help your case.
Sure enough, once your lower region was exposed, Natasha let out a gasp. “No panties? Are you kidding me right now?!”
"You really are a fucking brat, aren’t you?"
You tried shaking your head but it was no use. Her mind was made as she pressed into you even more, her hand now coming to caress your inner thigh. You whimpered out your girlfriend’s name as her fingers began slowly circling your clit. She chuckled in your ear before collecting some of the wetness dripping from your folds and putting attention back on your clit.
"So wet for me," Natasha murmured. "It is for me, right? Or did that man out there get you dripping like a needy slut?"
You groaned, captivated by the action happening between your thighs. "Just for you," you said as your eyes slowly fluttered. Natasha picked up the pace adding slight pressure as well. You squealed.
"That’s it," she whispered, holding you tighter around the waist. "That’s my girl."
Suddenly, though, she moved her fingers back to your folds where, without warning, she shoved two fingers inside you. You yelped, twisting in her grip. She didn’t even budge. You cried out as the fingers flicked upwards, hitting just the right spots.
"If you want to act like a slut you have to deal with being fingered like one, got it?" Natasha said. Her mouth was practically on your ear, she was whispering so lowly it sent goosebumps up your arms. She was pissed and serious. You were loving it.
"Y-Yes, Natasha." You barely managed to get the words out but your girlfriend seemed very pleased. Her fingers picked up — significantly. A squelching noise now filled the bathroom, coming directly from your wetness which was not stopping any time soon it seemed. Natasha was also taking the moment to make sure her hand was hitting your clit. With every single pump. It was getting overwhelming very, very fast.
You spoke again, "Please, please… I’m gonna cum."
"Yeah?" Natasha mocked. "My little slut needs to cum?"
You nodded your head profusely. "Please, please." The begging was becoming second nature at this point, your only instinct. Natasha seemed very pleased with that.
"Fine," she huffed. "Cum all over my fingers you greedy little girl. And you better scream when you cum. I want every single person, especially that man, to know who’s treating you so well."
Her paced picked up even more (how that was possible you didn’t know) and your body reacted wonderfully. Within moments, you were crumbling like a house of cards. Your orgasm rushed over you as you cried out much louder than you had actually intended. You couldn’t stop as Natasha continued to work you through the orgasm. She didn’t give up until you were limp in her arms.
She chuckled, watching your body practically collapse from pleasure. "Was that good, honey?"
"Yes," you mumbled, leaning into her body. Natasha fixed your dress and brought her hand to caress your cheek.
"Good," she said and placed a quick kiss on your lips. "Maybe that’ll teach you to behave."
Now it was your turn to laugh. "Why would I behave when that’s what I get for being bad?"
Abruptly, Natasha’s hand came around your neck, forcing you to look at her. Her gaze was dark, her CEO stance still very much engaged. "Don’t even tempt me."
You bit your lip teasingly but nodded your head slowly. You certainly didn’t mean it, though, already secretly planning the next time you could ruffle her feathers.
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SEX ON FIRE || EIJIROU KIRISHIMA
Kirishima Eijirou x Reader; Kirishima and the reader are friends.
Summary: A succubus and a dragon...how's she supposed to hold back?
Written in third person point of view.
Warnings: Wet dreaming, masturbation (male & fem), oral (male receiving), dub-con, brief somnophilia, unprotected sex, ahegao, dirty talk, failed attempt at induction of sex pollen, kissing, & mild language
A/N: Along the lines of witch’s coffee, I thought of something very fantasy-like. Introducing a succubus reader and dragon Kiri :) this is also not one of my best works so bear with me :))
Important Notes: Instead of quirks, each character can transform into a fantasy/mythological creature. Reader - Succubus; Kiri - Dragon; Katsuki - Chimera; Denki - Enfield; Sero - Naga. Characters are aged 21+. All errors/typos are mine.
Word count: 3.1k+
To everyone that has participated in my 1K event, thank you all so much! It was great to see all of your work and I look forward to hosting many more of these events/challenges. To those of you that have been supporting me from the sidelines, thank you. It means the world to me that I’m able to communicate and interact with all of you <33
The current predicament wasn’t one that would’ve been sought out. Y/N remained on her knees in front of the dragon, tits perked despite the potent corset, as her head bobbed up and down his length. Her tail only wagged whilst her delicate hands gripped his brawny thighs.
His groans spurred her on to take even more of him into her mouth, the gentle graze of her teeth making his hips rut into her mouth. The vein running under his cock left a brand on her tongue. His tip throbbed as she swallowed around him.
“Y-You’re doing so good, Y/N.”
Her response to his praise was far beyond ecstatic. Gurgling a moan around his dick, she clenched around his calloused fingers. The heat only made them grow needier for one another. If he hadn’t touched her, she would’ve near well exploded.
The string of saliva keeping her attached to him sent him wild, his hand cupping her jaw to bring her into a searing kiss. The remnants of his precum lingered in her mouth, her tongue rolling around his as she was soon settled over his lap.
“What is it, baby?”
Eijirou jumped out of his sleep, bumping his head against Bakugou’s with much force.
“Ow, what the fuck!”
“Damn right you’re sorry,” he grumbled to himself. “You comin’ to the gym or what?”
What the hell was-
He looked over at the digital numbering sitting on his nightstand, groaning at the fact that he’d slept in yet again.
“Yup, just gimme a minute.”
Katsuki uttered some more to himself, massaging at his pulsating temple.
“Hurry up, I’m not waiting all day!”
Kirishima got up, tossing his comforter aside. He stared down at the strain in his boxers, cursing to himself. Slipping into the bathroom, he pumped a fistful of lotion into his palm before allowing his boxers to pool around his ankles.
He quivered at the cool moisturizer, grunting as he made contact with his purple tip. It was nothing compared to his dream but it would have to compensate somehow. His abs flexed, tendrils of his red hair sticking to his sweaty skin.
“Fuck,” he muttered, hips bucking into his hand as he tightened his grip.
Fucking his fist abruptly, he grew closer to his climax, rapture coursing through each vein. As he felt himself nearing his high, a loud knock made him jump, a whimper falling from his lips once he’d squeezed his tip a little too hard.
“C’mon,” he grumbled, pumping himself a few more times before a barrage of knocks were landed against the door.
His jaw clenched, relentlessly bucking his hips into his hand before spurts of cum decorated his skin. He took a few short breaths prior to cleaning himself, greeting the others with a tight-lipped smile once he’d dressed in proper attire.
“What the hell took you so long?” Katuski spat, plopping his headphones around the vacancy of his neck.
“He was probably talking to his girlfriend,” Denki chortled.
He refuted Denki’s snarky comment with a smack the head, “No, I was not talking to Y/N. I was just brushing my teeth ‘nd whatnot.”
In seconds, they were at the gym, fueling their bodies with adrenaline. Kirishima curled the substantial avoirdupois bar up to his chest, finishing up his fourth set of fifteen reps.
The doughy hands that rested abroad his defined abdomen made him freeze, nails dragging ever so softly over the fabric of his muscle tank. Eijirou let the barbell fall to his feet in a matter of seconds while his tail curled around his thighs.
“H-hey, Y/N,” he mustered, scratching the back of his neck at the feeling of her puny hands still on his body.
“I’m hoping that I’ll see you at my party later tonight.”
Her statement seemed more as if she were questioning whether or not she would see him.
“Yeah, of course!”
His shark-like ivories assembled into a blinding smile, his cheeks reddening by the second.
She briefly stood on her tippy-toes, planting a kiss on his burning cheek which sent him flying over the moon.
“See ya later,” he was quick to say his farewells.
“You’re not getting rid of me that fast, Eiji.”
And with that, she took off to complete a set of squats, the barbell placed so carefully abroad her shoulders.
You’re fucking kidding.
With each squat, her shorts rode further and further up her thighs whilst the apex of her tendons flexed. He could feel a slight tilt in his jaw, the muscles clenching ever so slightly as he caught Denki’s eyes clinging to her figure. His wolf-like tail wagged, his foxy ears batting almost as if he were ready to pounce.
“Denki, knock it out before I punch your face in,” Kirishima warned the boy.
“With her ass out like that, she’s basically-”
The glare he earned from Eijirou was enough for him to back off. Bakugou simply chuckled, utterly amused.
“And what are you laughing at?”
Kirishima’s sudden snappiness was enough to wipe the grins off of all of their faces, Sero included.
“Is shitty hair talkin’ to me like that?”
The growth of tension in the gym caught the attention of many people. Bakugou, who was usually loud and boastful, seemed to be picking at Kirishima through his eyes only.
“Shut it, flat face.”
His voice was eerily quiet. Y/N had stopped her current set, turning to witness the quarrel between the men behind her.
“You’re really quiet now, Eijirou. What’s the matter?”
With each stride forward, Y/N inched closer to the group in fear that things wouldn’t end so smoothly.
“Is it ‘cause your little bitch is watching? You don’t want ‘er to know how much of a fuckin’ monster you are?”
Kirishima’s hands were quick to take a hold on the collar of Bakugou’s shirt, a shit-eating grin tugging at his lips as he finally got the dragon to crack.
“Show ‘er how much of a monster you are, come o-”
Katsuki was slammed to the ground with much force, Kirishima huffing with skin as red as Bakugou’s irises.
“Eiji,” Y/N scolded the boy rather quickly, hearing something crack the minute Bakugou met the ground. “Are you alright?”
As much as she wanted to see that happen, she couldn’t help but feel bad, peering down at Bakugou was clearly in discomfort. He brushed it off, vermilion eyes snapping over to Kiri with vigor.
“You’re a dragon, shitty hair. Always were, and always will be. You can’t hide it much longer.”
With that, Bakugou got up, bumping shoulders with the seven-foot redhead.
“What the hell was that about?”
Both Denki and Sero had parted ways, Denki following Katsuki hot on his tail and Sero hanging back at the gym with Eijirou.
“They were just...talking about you disrespectfully.”
“That’s not any reason to fight your friends!”
“Well to me it is! I don’t care if you don’t want anyone looking out for you, I’ll always be there,” he whispered, throwing a rag over his shoulder before making his way to the exit. “Oh, and, about your party...hope you have fun.”
Despite his quite brazen exit, Y/N didn’t take his word to heart. She felt deep down that he was just talking out of his ass. But when he didn’t show up within the first hour of her party, she was concerned. It didn’t matter what the occasion was, he was always the first to be there. When Mina picked up on Y/N’s relatively quiet demeanor, she stepped in, offering a shot to the girl standing before her.
“Have a shot!”
“You’re way too chill, c’mon!”
The rest of the night flew by before she could even process it. Not to mention, Kirishima hadn’t shown once. Bakugou and Sero were there, Sero currently downing a row of shots with Mina whilst Bakugou shrugged off a ton of extras.
No one would notice if she stepped away just for a second so that’s exactly what she did. She left her own party to scout for Eijirou.
Amidst her stroll down the hallways, her tail wagged, the brief chatter coming from the red-lit room letting her known that Eijirou was well awake. She stood in the doorway, watching as he frantically flicked the joysticks, shouting at the screen.
“Denki, get out of the fucking way!”
He leaned over to one side in hopes of dodging the digital yellow car on his screen. Y/N cleared her throat, Eijirou not looking up considering his unnecessary shouting.
“I’m gonna kill you, move!”
Y/N chuckled quietly, shutting his door in a matter of seconds. She strode her way over to him, placing a warm hand on his shoulder before bending to his level. Her lips grazed his jawline, tongue swiping at the area her teeth had concisely nibbled on. He jumped at the sensation, yanking his headset to rest around his neck.
“What the hell are you-”
“You didn’t show up to my party so I came to you.”
Continuing to trace each of his muscles with her lips and tongue, she sat on her knees behind him. Eijirou had all attention turned to the game once more, shrugging off the soft tissue pasturing his rind. Her hands were everywhere, nails leaving bright red marks here and there.
Everyone was born with a mutation - fantasy animals and mythological creatures. The percentage of someone born without a mutation was rather low. At around five years of age, almost everyone had been gifted with their anomaly. Those who hadn’t been were either late bloomers or didn’t have one at all.
Y/N had come to terms with her mutation rather late. While everyone boasted their creature, she was ashamed. She was three when her tail came in, six when her wings started to strain against her clothing. It was painful.
She’d been heavily encouraged by her mother, who had acquired the anomaly of a vampiress, to just cut her wings off. She had cried day and night, the ache in her shoulders growing worse each time she’d cut her wings off as they grew back in. They were there forever. She would never be able to get rid of them.
As for her tail, she easily tucked it into her bottoms. Ever so rarely had she flashed the rudder but she grew more comfortable with the idea of it by the time she’d started high school. When she was thirteen, her fangs finally grew in, She could no longer hide it. Wings at least 17 feet sat on her back. She bared them with little to no shame, however using the ruse of being a bat.
“A bat with fangs that large?”
“Yeah! My mom’s a vampire so I guess I got a bit of the gene.”
It was hard to think of a new lie each time someone asked about her mutation, but she managed.
Eventually, her eighteenth birthday rolled around and things were starting to feel very different. She’d wake up some mornings, a burning ache in the lower pit of her stomach with her teeth having a strong desire to sink into something spongy. Somehow it felt as if she were going into heat.
No matter how many times she’d gotten off with her fingers and toys, heavy rubber guards coating her teeth to subdue the yearning of wanting to bite into something, it didn’t help. She spent hours making an absolute mess but this sensation wouldn’t flee.
She was departing to university around the same time, hence Eijirou becoming her prey of interest.
Succubi don’t typically fall in love, she learned rather early. But her need to claim the dragon was oddly strong. The loud and boastful Chimera, Katsuki Bakugou, made it known to almost everyone that he was very fond of the winged-woman. But during a heated game of spin the bottle, Y/N made it known that she was into Kirishima, getting comfy in his lap as they locked lips. He winced when her canine tooth dragged against his lip. His taste lingered on her tongue.
Since then, she couldn’t help but yearn for more.
Along the road, a sense of mutual pining began. One was whipped for the other yet neither would admit it.
It wasn’t until they were paired together for a project, one that tested the limit of one another’s creatures, that some sort of chemistry was confirmed. They were parted into different areas of the classroom, Aizawa watching everyone carefully as they jotted information about their partners. Y/N watched intently as Eijirou took a few laps in their area, Denki foolishly bumping shoulders with him.
“Kaminari, get out the way!”
Before he could catch himself, his foot hooked onto Denki’s tail, sending his wings flailing as he fell into Y/N’s lap, who dropped her notebook and gazed down at the dragon. His cheeks were burning up, flushed with crimson as he huffed.
“Kirishima, Y/L/N, back to work,” Aizawa demanded.
Eijirou slowly propped himself up on his elbows, stating a nonchalant, “you got it, prof,” as he stood to his feet. Not breaking eye contact with her once, his hands stabilized themselves on her thighs, somehow sending flashes of heat through her core. It was all in his touch. His faintest touch left her begging for more.
“Yeah, yeah, back to work,” he backtalked, offering a tweak of the lips.
“Kiri, just give me the word, and I’ll be out of your hair,” she muttered, lips still kissing and sucking at the skin below his jawline.
She felt his Adam’s apple bob below her tongue, a rather sinister chuckle rumbling from within.
“Go,” he verbalized through cinched teeth.
“I couldn’t hear y-”
“Go, I’ve had enough of your shit.”
She was taken aback. Never in the four years that she’d known Eijirou had he snapped at her like that out of the blue. She simply scoffed, getting off of him and watching from less than a foot away.
“You don’t really-”
“I said go,” he snarled.
He gripped onto his controller with visible force, slowly losing his cool with each passing second.
“Bakugou’s right,” she began, watching carefully in hopes of getting a rise out of him. “You are just some fucking monster.”
He chuckled...to mask the fact that he would snap soon enough.
“I’m glad you agree with him,” he monotonously retorted.
Another scoff echoed from her mouth, biting back the desire to make things worse. She left without another word, hands aching to feel him a bit more. Eijirou typically never got upset to the point of not wanting to see her but when he felt his skin slowly starting to heat up, his leg bouncing uncontrollably, it was best for him to be alone.
At the brink of dawn, party attendees opted to hit the hay. Too heavily influenced by the alcohol coursing their veins, some were strewn about Y/N’s dormitory. It was no secret that they’d wake up with a killer hangover the next morning.
With nothing but Kirishima on her mind, as well as the very few people that’d thrown themselves onto her bed, Y/N couldn’t help her feet from gravitating to the dragon’s dorm. He was fast asleep as wonted.
Even so, her hands fell upon his perfectly broadened shoulders nails softly grazing over his pecks. Her scent grew overwhelming rather quickly, his skin growing ablaze beneath her fingertips. She’d spent days longing for Eijirou’s body. With decency haunting her mind at the very least, her hands fell to the grey tent hovering above his crotch. He was hung, giving Y/N quite a view as she shimmied onto her knees, his own prodding her thighs akimbo.
Her teeth ached, dentitions inching closer and closer to the skin of his neck. Until he spurred. His knee bumped her cunt, the lace providing very little of a barrier between their skin. The subdued mewl that rumbled within was enough to let her know that he wasn’t in too deep of a sleep. It’s now or never.
With this realization, her canines tore past his skin, incisors leaving the faintest brands. His body fell limp briefly, toxins now coursing his figure. She pulled back rather quick when he stirred once more, traces of blood on her lips as she made quick work of his pajamas. His eyes shot up with a strangled mewl, chest heaving whilst his eyes traveled to the area in which their bodies met.
“W-what the f- god damn it, what are you doing?”
He spoke through clenched teeth as she fucked herself on his cock.
“Hey sleepyhead,” she panted, chasing her own release.
She missed the way his hips sloppily rutted up into her, squeaking when her body was bounced a tad bit more.
“Holy fuckin’ shit,” he huffed, legs hooking the backs of her knees before tossing her onto her back.
“Shut your damn mouth,” he spat, hiking her legs over her shoulders as his hips continued to snap into hers.
Barely a word was coherent. Her pleas for him to ‘slow down’ were a joke. This is what she wanted after all.
“Couldn’t just ask like a normal person for me fuck you, could you?”
He was fucking huge. With her body folded in half, he towered over her like a colossus. Not to mention, he was balls-deep inside of her. His cock goaded at her cervix, grazing her g-spot oh so sweetly. Her eyes rolled back, tongue lolling out of her mouth as drool pooled at her commissures. His pearly whites fell agape, the curve of his lip tilting wickedly.
“You like being fucked like a slut, huh?”
A large hand fixated itself around her throat, digging into her pulse points.
“Answer me, bitch.”
The use of such harsh words only spurred her on even more, the seize on her throat allowing him to draw her face up to his. Their noses bumped, a brief exchange of saliva and tongue interrupting their heady whines.
“I love it when you fuck me like a slut,” she uttered, a frail hand reaching for the splay of his meaty shoulder.
The moan that ripped from his chest was merely intoxicating. A rush of white-hot shot through her body, the feeling of his cockhead stimulating her cunt at a different angle sending her straight to her orgasm.
“Fuck, Eiji- ngh, I’m cumming!”
The next couple of seconds were a blur. Feeling the stagger in his hips, the veins on his neck protruded. Her cunt was a vice. He’d spend every second buried between her walls if he could. But right now…right now he chased the release that sat just around the corner.
“Cum inside ‘f me,” she muttered, gawking up at the seven-foot dragon. His fingers curled into her skin, nails surely leaving welts as he emptied his seed into her waiting womb with a grunt. A moment of silence fell upon them, one that soon became uncomfortable.
“So…a succubus, huh?”
Kirishima Eijirou Taglist: @spiderdrive27 @lunar-writing @diamond-3 @sansisbae @hxrzvf
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Trephyacard aka trevor, alucard, and sypha from Castlevania = m2 and cloud aerith and tifa =h1 feel free to change them up.
Sorry for the delay
I think I’ll get them all done this weekend 😊
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The One Where Hotch Finds Out
Episode 1 of The One Where Everyone Finds Out
Spencer Reid x BAUfem! Reader
Category: Fluffy Fluff
TW: Cursing, vague mentions of crimes by unsub, vague mentions of the death of Maeve, vague mentions of missing his dead wife...tooth-rotting cuteness?
EPISODE 1 is here! I am so excited. I’ve never written from a character’s point of view outside of Reader’s and Spencer’s so I hope you like my take on Hotch! I also think he would definitely be the first one to notice something like this. Oh, also, just a heads up - I’m playing pretty fast and loose with the timeline of this show. Just letting y’all know that I’m taking some liberties with canon here. Now that that’s out of the way...consider yourselves warned. Onwards and upwards!
Love you all! Thanks for the support, the laughs, the love! See you tomorrow for The One Where Penelope Finds Out! xx
SSA Aaron Hotchner has never really been able to sleep on the BAU’s private jet. Even on the way home from a case as cut and dried and successful (as successful as they can be, at any rate) as this one had been, Hotch has always found it difficult to fully sleep. He would occasionally doze lightly for a bit after getting a head start on his paperwork, but he could probably count the number of times he’s fully fallen asleep on one hand. He couldn’t even truly say why he finds it difficult to sleep on the jet...usually, anyway. However, at this moment, he knows exactly why he’s awake: Reid is being weird. Like, weirder than the normal weird. Not to say that Spencer is weird; that would be rude and would undercut his intelligence and usefulness to the team. However, Reid was, at this very moment, being weird.
Reid doesn’t like to touch people very much. At least, people he doesn’t know. As a profiler, even though the team, of course, has a sort of unspoken moratorium on profiling one another, Hotch had picked up on this when Reid joined the team without having to utilize his profiling skills much at all. At the age of 22, Reid had still been under the mentorship of Gideon. Hotch would never forget receiving the email about the new, incredibly young, and rather ridiculously intelligent team member, and, even though he fully understood that email, it hadn’t really prepared him for actually meeting Dr. Spencer Reid. On a random Monday (random to Hotch - he was actually quite sure Reid could tell him the exact date and time that they’d met) Hotch had rounded a corner only to nearly collide with the wiry and angular young man. Wrapped in the boy’s long, thin fingers was an almost absurdly large to-go cup of coffee. His tall, thin frame had been swamped in a lumpy, somewhat analogous sweater and trousers. Spencer’s clothing choices had felt alien for the diffident young man that stood before Hotch because it was fairly obvious, even to a profiler less seasoned than he, that this was a singularly fastidious human being. Spencer’s hands shook slightly as he gripped his coffee and the FBI file in his other hand as though his life depended on it, his fingers methodically finicking with the file and the coffee cup, the intensity of his nerves matched only by his obvious determination to be helpful, but inconspicuous.
“Aaron Hotchner,” Hotch had said, offering his right hand. “You must be Dr. Spencer Reid?”
Reid stared at the proffered hand, his eyes widening almost comically. The coffee cup was gripped in his left hand, meaning that what he could do (and, arguably, what most people would do) is put the file under his left arm and shake Hotch’s hand with his, now free right hand. Reid had swallowed and met Hotch’s eyes, not moving to offer his own hand, and said, “Yes, I’m Doctor Spencer Reid.”
Hotch had stared at him uncomfortably for a moment, his hand still proffered in the, now awkward, space between them. As he slowly lowered it, he noticed a slight tension release in Reid’s jaw. All at once he’d recognized that this was a young man who so desperately wanted to fit in, but was also semi-germophobic at the very least. Hotch nodded politely, returning his arm to his side and walked toward his office with a warm, “Welcome to the team.”
That memory, among hundreds of others where Spencer had actively avoided the physical contact of others, only really accepting it in moments of great need or absolute necessity, had been one of the facts that Hotch had stored firmly in his mind along with the other facts he kept about those near and dear to his life and his work. Spencer’s disinclination to touch had only increased with the loss of Maeve Donovan, his long-distance girlfriend, a woman he’d only been able to contact via secretive phone calls and letters. Understandably, the young genius, who already held a proclivity for isolation, had turned in on himself further becoming almost aloof. Hotch had worried for a time that Reid would never be able to return to the level of still slightly self-conscious sense of comfort he’d seemed to find with age. However, he supposes, Hotch had never counted on someone like you. And it hardly took the skills of a profiler to notice the effect that you had on Spencer Reid.
You had joined the team not long after Maeve’s tragic passing. You were technically a teaching assistant to Alex Blake, a linguistics professor who’d joined the team following the departure of Emily Prentiss. When a case involved an unsub almost incapable of speech, Blake had had to resort to sign language, facetiming you in the car ride to the crime scene for a hurried catch up session.
They were in the SUV when Blake had recognized the unsub might not be able to talk.
“I need to call Y/N,” she’d exclaimed suddenly.
“Your TA?” Spencer asked. “Why?”
“She speaks more languages than I do,” Blake explained. “At least, she speaks more languages fluently than I do. I haven’t used sign language actively in years, not since learning it anyway.”
“Call her if you think it will help, Blake,” Hotch had ordered from the front seat. “We’re twenty minutes away.”
Blake had hesitated for only a second, “I’ll have to tell her-”
“You have my permission to reveal any details of the case you deem necessary,” Hotch replied to the unfinished statement. “Just hurry.”
You’d obliged quickly and professionally impressing everyone in the car with your quick thinking and support. Hotch had asked Blake to call you for a consultation only a few days later when a case involved clues set in the rhythmic patterns of a Khoisan click language derivative, a language even Reid couldn’t fully comprehend. After your incredible help on that case, Hotch had called you for a quick meeting, setting up special permissions to put you through profiling classes (which you’d passed and completed at a record speed) in order to get you on the team. From the moment you’d joined, officially going into the field with the team just a month after Maeve’s death, you’d been a breath of fresh air. Your predilection for language naturally bridged to an ease with communication, simply put: you’re incredibly easy to talk to. Blake practically treated you like a daughter, but you got along easily with everyone. Even, and especially Spencer. Spencer, who was still reeling from the death of the first great love of his life, had been unsurprisingly fragile in these past few months. However, ever so slowly, you’d seemingly charmed your way into his confidence, though you’d done nothing salacious or overbearing to receive the honor of such gentle intimacy. You’d not really held him at arm’s length, either, but had, without embellishment, given him the space he so desperately needed, allowing him to set the pace of what had, at least in Hotch’s eyes, become an easy and beautiful friendship. From the outset, your friendship made sense. You’re both incredibly intelligent young people, but you also both hold an unyielding capacity for empathy, a necessary, but underappreciated gift for a profiler. As he watches the scene before him on the jet, Hotch can’t believe it’s taken him this long - nearly a year, now- to recognize what seems so blatantly obvious. It is a rather unsurprising scene considering the interaction he’d witnessed between the two of you earlier that day.
There is a strange intimacy to zipping someone into a jacket. The act of zipping someone into a piece of clothing at all is a deep intimacy, but zipping someone into a jacket holds an intimacy all it’s own. It’s giving in to a sense of safeguarding someone, the acknowledgment of which is often difficult, particularly for those so inclined to empathy as you and Reid. Earlier that day, as the unsub was taken away and the crime scene was cleaned out, Hotch had clocked you and Spencer standing to the side of the house, nonchalantly discussing the outcome of the case. The air in Grand Forks, North Dakota had been rather alarmingly mild for this case, but nature had decided to very suddenly take it’s more usual course of action and hit the scene with a particularly strong burst of wind. What had been a mildly chilly day was abruptly a freezing cold, blustery landscape. You’d started to shiver almost uncontrollably, struggling with the zipper on your FBI jacket. Without hesitation, Reid had covered your shaking hands with his own, rubbing his hands over yours gently to warm them and potentially calm your shivering. Hotch watched, a bit abashed to see such a deeply intimate, yet entirely chaste interaction between the two of you. Reid had then, smiling down at you, reassuring you calmly, taken a hold of the bottom of your jacket, zipping you into it, and pulling his purple scarf off of himself and wrapping you in it before giving you a small hug.
Unbidden, a memory played in Hotch’s mind. A cold night following a football game. Haley, fair and freezing in the November air of that night, as Hotch had shyly and nervously zipped her into his letterman jacket. Tears had threatened his eyes as he’d recognized the look Spencer had given you in that moment.
And now, as he watches you snuggle slightly closer into Spencer’s arm as the two of you steadfastly sleep off the case on the jet, Hotch realizes that Spencer isn’t being weird. Spencer is behaving exactly as he should. Because Spencer is in love with you.
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↳ top five 9-1-1: lone star episodes as voted by our followers:
#4 · the big heat (s02e12) – 18 votes
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Shiuli, CONGRATULATIONS for 1k, so well-deserved! 🥰
I have an idea for a fic with Tommy that I've been thinking of for a long time but I feel like you'd write it the best! I hope it's not against a "no specific Reader" rule but if it is then ignore this!!! But what about Tommy and a Reader that is wearing glasses? And she's super ashamed of it and she tries to avoid wearing them at all costs despite not seeing much without them (I've no idea if you have seen the movie "How To Marry a Millionaire" but Marilyn Monroe's character was like that in the movie haha). You can also use a prompt "ice cream" in this story if you'd like to. But as I said - that might go against that specific reader rule so you can 100% ignore this! I'll send you some moodboard request as well 😘
Lily, your request is so sweet I'd never say no to it. And it isn't even that reader specific. As I always say, I tried. If you had a different idea about it, please don't hesitate to post it too. Thank you for your request, you amazing person.
Prompt - Ice Cream
Tommy Shelby x Reader
word count - 826 (I cannot help myself)
As a child, whenever your concerned mother scolded you for misplacing your glasses, you would grumble, "Have you seen how ghastly they are? I'd rather be blind than ugly."
Both far and near component of your vision were very weak, and your vision got even worse at night. But you still refused to wear the abominable spectacles in public. After all, you had an image to maintain. What would people say when they found out that you, the 'alluring' belle of Small Heath wore ugly, boring glasses?
No, you would die before that happened. And sadly for you, fate took your decision too seriously.
"Are you out of your fucking mind?" A low, angry voice yelled at you as you tried to find your footing and your scattered belongings.
You had been crossing the street, and since it was after sunset, you hadn't been able to notice the speeding vehicle. An earsplitting horn and a small crash later, you were awkwardly sprawled on the asphalt, courtesy your employer, Thomas Shelby's Bentley.
"I'm sorry." You muttered as you stood up, clutching your handbag tightly.
"You're bleeding." He said with a casual glance at your arm.
But you needed to get away as soon as possible.
"Nothing ice cream can't heal. Thank you for not running me over, Thomas." You said hastily and walked ahead, trying your best to ignore the shaking in your knees, which had nothing to do with your recent brush with death.
Later that night, someone unexpected paid you a visit with a strange package in his hands.
"What are you doing here?"
"You wear glasses."
You tensed at the realisation, but didn't let him see your uneasiness. "You came all the way from Warwick to ask this?"
"No. I thought you'd like some ice cream." He tried to keep his voice as impersonal as possible.
Your eyebrows rose above the frame of the glasses.
"I'll take that as a yes?" He asked, no doubt embarrassed himself.
"Yeah. Come in."
"Nice place." He said as he looked around your shabby house.
"Would you like something? Tea, coffee, whisky?" Poison?
It wasn't his fault, and he was being extremely generous right now, but why did he have to come over unannounced? Why couldn't he just give you a cheque or something?
"Whisky would be nice." He said and proffered the ice cream in your direction.
You took it and hurried inside the kitchen, your breath quickening with each second.
When finally inside, you cast a look at your reflection in the small mirror you kept handy.
As expected, your round glasses stood out prominently. Unpleasantly.
For a moment you considered taking them off. Coupled with the scraggy hair and your tatty clothes, they were making you look decidedly unappealing and 'un-alluring'. But he had already seen you, and except for the initial surprise, his reaction hadn't been remarkable at all.
Yeah, they could stay. Or he would think you were trying to impress him.
"Where did you get this from?" You asked after a while as you took an inappropriately large bite of the ice cream.
"You don't like it?" He asked as he took a sip of his whisky, his eyes on you. His ice cream was still untouched.
"Did I say that?" You raised an eyebrow at him then took another bite of the heavenly ice cream.
You didn't notice when he bent closer until there was less than appropriate distance between you both. His hands reached out, and it took all of your self control to stay fixed in your position.
"What are you doing?" You swallowed as he removed your glasses with a delicacy you didn't know was possible in a man.
"Why don't you wear them?" He asked casually as he scrutinised your old glasses.
You blinked your eyes repeatedly in answer, as if that would make you see things clearer. For the first time, you wished you were wearing the ugly spectacles.
"(Y/N)?" He asked some moments later, concern marring his blank words.
"I cannot see." You admitted.
He chuckled shortly, then put the glasses back on, again with the same softness.
"Thank you." You whispered and adjusted the glasses, feeling shy and hot and strange all over.
"If you wore them, you wouldn't have hurt yourself." He reproved gently.
He then moved away and leaned back on the chair, his eyes on you again, his ice cream a soft puddle now.
You glanced at him from under your eyelashes, then back at your ice cream.
The strangest urge to laugh came over you. Never in your life had you thought that the ugly glasses would end up initiating the most heated foreplay of your life.
After a moment's thought, you moved closer in his direction, just like he had minutes ago and said, "If I wore them, I wouldn't be sharing ice cream with Mr. Shelby," before pressing a cold and sweet kiss on his warm lips.
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AOSEDIT’S 1K FOLLOWERS CELEBRATION
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@yoyo-rodriguez: 5x05 - Rewind
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Wanda: I don’t know what to do anymore, I’ve already given them 1,000 signs, they just can’t seem to get it.
Steve: Have you tried a more direct approach?
[Y/n walks by]
Wanda: Y/n, I love you.
Y/n, totally oblivious: Aw, Wan, I love you too.
Steve: Yeah, I don’t know how to help you with that one.
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hi dear!! do you think that you could do a loki laufeyson smut oneshot with the prompt “Doing so good for me, honey.” it’s okay if not!! thank you for considering!
Slow and Sweet
Relationship: Loki x Reader
Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, penetrative sex, dirty talk - 18+, minors DNI
Word Count: 2k
A/N: This uses some of my favorite cheesy tropes so I hope that’s okay! thank you so much for requesting, I hope this was alright!
Loki was unlike any other lover you had had before. A literal god, he exuded a dominance both inside and outside the bedroom that you were very much addicted to. He knew how to take care of you in every way shape and form, having you weak and babbling as he pulled pleasure out of you for hours in bed using ropes, toys, degradation… Anything to get you off in the rawest way possible.
And you very, very much enjoyed it all, obviously. Loki’s style of loving was so fresh and inviting. You had never been with a man that could be so commanding. Heck — you never thought you’d be attracted to any kind of commanding from any man. But while he brought out a secret primal side in you, at heart, you were still a sucker for softer, more loving nighttime activities.
You just… You just didn’t know how to bring it up with him. For as much of a confident man he could be, you knew some insecurities lied beneath that armor. He was always very insistent at the end of your nights that you let him know if you enjoyed yourself. You certainly never lied but you also really, really craved something slow.
Still unsure, you called a friend one night to vent and hope she had some ideas. Really, though, she didn’t understand your dilemma.
"Girl, you’re getting railed by an Asgardian God. I don’t understand the problem."
You sighed into the phone, gripping it between your shoulder and cheek as you began prepping dinner. "I don’t know. I just want him to be a bit softer, I think. Maybe something closer to love-making."
She chuckled. "Do you think he even has that in him?"
"Of course," you said. "He’s more than sweet out in public. There’s no reason that can’t translate into the bedroom."
"Well, then I think you should just tell him."
"I know, but-,"
Your words were cut off suddenly but the sound of something loudly hitting the dinner table behind you. You jumped, turning abruptly to find Loki standing in the kitchen, staring you down. He must’ve thrown his book on the table to get your attention. You looked between the item and him.
All while you’re engaged in a staring contest with your visibly confused boyfriend, your friend is screaming at you on the other end of the line asking what happened.
"I-I’ll call you back," you said quickly into the receiver before ending the call. The vibe in the room had gone cold. You didn’t know how but you knew Loki knew.
Still, you forced a smile, deciding maybe it was best to act like you weren’t discussing such intimacies with a third party. "Hey, babe," you said before turning back to the food you were preparing.
Loki didn’t respond and you were way too nervous to look over your shoulder. You focused on the slicing of vegetables very, very closely…
A hand landed on your hip. He was behind you now. You could practically feel him breathing down your neck. His hard body was pressed to your back. But nothing about him seemed to scream angry or hurt. He was amazingly calm.
"Who was that on the phone?" Loki asked. He was just about whispering in your ear. You gulped, trying to keep your focus on the cutting board in front of you.
"My- My friend," you responded. Another hand was suddenly on your other hip, pulling you into your boyfriend. You sighed at the contact.
"That’s nice," he hummed. "Must be good to catch up with your friend."
"But tell me, dear, do your conversations together always end up with you complaining about our sex life?"
You shook your head. "Loki, I wasn’t complaining-,"
"You want me to be softer," he gritted.
You sighed, placing your kitchen knife back on the counter and pushing away the vegetables. Dinner was definitely on hold now. "That doesn’t mean I’m complaining," you explained. "I love what we do so much, you make me feel incredible, but I also want to slow down sometimes. I’ve loved exploring the rougher side of sex with you, I just… I want the other side of it, too. A balance, maybe."
There was a lull for a moment before Loki hesitantly spoke, "I’m afraid I won’t know how to."
You closed your eyes, absolutely dreading hearing the words you had feared. But you pulled through, slowly nodding your head, trying to accept it. "Alright, I understand—"
"But I want to try."
He nodded as one of his hands slowly began creeping its way up and under your blouse. His hands were so rough compared to your soft skin. As Loki’s hand brushed over your bra-covered breasts, warm lips began decorating your neck with kisses. He nipped and sucked still but it was nothing compared to how he used to do it. It didn’t feel like he was trying to devour but instead savor you.
"Is this close to what you had in mind?" Loki asked, his voice dropping lowly. You moaned in response as his hand began traveling south, fingers light and delicate as they skimmed the top of your shorts.
Your eyes slowly drifted shut in anticipation as you murmured, "Feels good…"
Loki tsked. His hand stopped. "You haven’t felt anything yet."
There was a swooshing sound. You opened your eyes and in your confusion took in the sights of your bedroom. Loki was still pressed behind you. You were facing the bed.
"If my darling wants traditional loving then it needs to happen in a traditional spot, correct?"
You wanted to comment that being transported to the bedroom in such a manner wasn’t traditional by any means but before you could speak, Loki was guiding you to the bed, sitting you at the edge of it.
He dropped to his knees in front of you, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. "Are you…" You began to ask but were cut off by him placing a kiss in your inner thigh.
"Now," he mumbled into your skin, "I prefer to feast rather hungrily but I’m going to try it your way, okay?"
You bit your lip, nodding slowly, completely hypnotized by the sight of Loki kneeling for you. Usually, when he ate you out you were completely lying down in bed. He had never dropped to the floor for you.
"Terrific," he said and with a flick of the wrist, your clothes had vanished.
Again, you wanted to bite back that that certainly wasn’t part of old-fashioned love-making but your protests were silenced by his tongue finding your clit. Gently, he moved in soft, tight circles around your clit before testing your folds. Instinctively, your hands flew to his hair, tangling your fingers in his dark locks as your body arched in pleasure.
Loki let out a low hum at your grip before his tongue slowly maneuvered its way inside you, caressing your folds. You gasped as his tongue worked on you, bringing you closer to an orgasm. He began altering now from your folds to your clit, pulling pleasure in surprising ways. To add to it all, Loki’s hands were running up and down your thighs as he went. You didn’t know what it was about the simple touch but it was driving you crazy.
The longer you stared, the faster the tongue worked, the closer you were getting… Your brain was spinning as you felt your orgasm building.
"I-I’m-," you tried muttering out but Loki seemed to get the memo. Abruptly, he removed all contact. You gasped, a bit surprised, a bit angry. You shot daggers at him.
"Patience, honey," he snickered, "You wanted it slow and sweet, didn’t you?"
"Yes, but…" Your words couldn’t finish, once again, as Loki attached his lips to yours. Slowly, he pushed you back on the bed as your tongues now fought with one another. You were completely encapsulated in tasting remnants of yourself on him and the kind way he was kissing you, you didn’t even realize what was happening until your head hit your pillow.
His lips left yours and began working down to your jaw, your neck, across your breasts… It felt like he was loving every inch of your skin. You felt truly beautiful, admired, at that moment as he practically worshipped you. He placed a quick kiss on your clit and you thought maybe he’d continue his actions down there but then he was back, face level with you.
"Fair warning, darling," Loki whispered, "it’s going to take all the patience I possess to go slow once my cock is buried deep in your soaking core."
His gaze was intense, almost too much, but you just nervously nodded and waited. Loki intertwined one of your hands together while the other one fell to your hip. Typically, at this point he’d just grab your waist and pull you into him, never giving you the chance to breathe or adjust. He’d fuck you a bit wildly, letting bruises from his fingertips litter your skin.
Tonight, though, everything was with a lighter touch. And when he entered you, he stopped halfway, letting you both really feel the moment. You moaned at the fullness as Loki groaned in your ear. When settled, he eased in fully and you were just about done for.
You could see Loki resisting the urge to just take you relentlessly but then he placed a gentle kiss on your lips and pulled out a little, slowly, before diving back in. Your back arched as you felt every inch of him, really felt him. It was so snug but just right. You felt your wetness pooling shamelessly.
"That’s it," Loki groaned as his pace continued at a slightly antagonizing slow rhythm. "Doing so good for me, honey."
"Feels amazing…" You sighed, taking in every time Loki’s cock would nudge the right spot or stretch you just a little bit more. It felt… It felt like a first time. Like you two had been saving this moment.
Loki’s pace picked up just slightly and you knew he was getting close. That was maybe one thing he could never resist — chasing his orgasm with you at all cost. You snaked your free hand down to your clit, working for that extra pleasure but Loki’s hand on your hip quickly pushed it away.
"I’ve got you, darling," he whispered and replaced your fingers with his. He rubbed tight, cautious circles on your clit. You squealed as your orgasm began approaching quicker and quicker.
"Please," you begged, "I need to cum." Loki could never resist your begging and it seemed to drop the facade a bit. The circles and pumping picked up even faster. It hit you at that moment that while you loved the slow foreplay, getting fucked in such unconventional ways was really delightful.
Loki must’ve felt your walls tightening because he mumbled, a bit weakly, "Cum for me, dear. Come on, cum for me."
A few more flicks on your clit and you were there. Your back arched off the bed again as your body shook. Your orgasm filled you just as Loki was now filling you. The warmth of both actions consumed your body, bringing pleasure beyond belief. You twisted and turned on the bed as you two slowly came down from the highs.
Loki gently wrapped his arms around you, still huffing and puffing from his own pleasure. He was still inside you as he laid on the bed. You could feel his release leaking out of you and onto your thighs. You sighed, very content.
"Was… Was that okay?" Loki eventually hesitantly asked. You were watching the ceiling, still trying to get your breathing under control, as he stared at you. He disconnected your hands and began carefully running his fingers through your hair, lovingly.
You nodded. "That was lovely," you smiled. "Thank you."
"I just want to make sure that every time you leave this bed, you’re satisfied."
"I-I didn’t mean to make you think I’m not satisfied," you mumbled. "I’m always pleased when you’re pleasing me."
Loki grinned at the silly phrase. "Good," he said then began moving a sneaky hand down your body. It stopped where you two were still connected. You let out a sharp breath at his touch. "Would a round two be satisfying? You’ve had your love-making. Now I want to fuck you."
You could barely nod your head in response before Loki was pouncing on you.
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Archive moodboard for @pollosky-in-blue
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A3 with Sam, Danny, and Tucker for the drawing prompt?
These kids deserve all the hugs
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