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moonstruckme · 2 months

Note

spencer reid holding hands 4 the first time : ( 've been rewatching cm and i miss my boy sm : (( you're most recent peter fic is so sweet btw im absolutely obssessed!!!!! love you bunches

Thank you sweetheart <3

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 665 words

You and Spencer have had a very…tentative beginning to your relationship. Normally, when you think of a first date, you’re worried about how much the other person expects. (Will they want to kiss you? Will they want more? What if you don’t want to? How do you say no without making it awkward?) With Spencer, there’s been none of that. You’re on date three, and he’s kept completely to himself the entire time. When you met up earlier in the week he’d let a hand hover near your elbow when you nearly tripped over a curb, but you’d barely felt the whisper of his skin against yours before he was putting it back in his pocket, the danger having passed.

You’ve always thought that you’d prefer to take things slow, and Spencer seems that way too, but now you’re itching for something more. Just something tangible to show that you like him, that he likes you too, that you’re not just going on these dates for no reason at all.

So, bold thing that you are, you let your hand hang in the empty space between you as you walk. An offering.

The first time Spencer’s knuckles brush across yours, knobby and skimming, he almost stops talking. He’s been saying something about Alexander Pope and Eliza Haywood (and you’re doing your best to follow along, honest), but he falters mid-sentence, his hand stuttering in its movement.

“And, uh, actually,” Spencer goes on, getting his verbal feet back under him, “it was only in the late twentieth century that her works started surfacing in academia…”

You nod along but don’t move your hand, letting Spencer’s graze past it again. This time, you lean into the touch, pushing your knuckles into his almost imperceptibly. And this time, Spencer’s hand doesn’t continue along its trajectory. He lets it rest alongside yours, your skin brushing up against each other’s with the movement of your walking. After a few seconds, his pinkie teases yours.

You bite back a smile, crooking your pinkie so it hooks around his. Spencer moves his hand, and for a second your heart drops, but he’s only bringing it to the inside of yours, interlacing your fingers loosely.

“Is this okay with you?” he asks, careful and to-the-point.

“Yeah.” You look up at him sheepishly, wriggling your fingers in his to get them closer. “I’ve been wanting to do this.”

“Me too,” Spencer says quietly. Your heart balloons until you’re sure it’s about to float off and take you with it.

His palm is rougher than you’d expected. Spencer comes off as such an academic, sometimes you can forget that he’s in the literal FBI. He handles guns and had to go through training, and you can feel it in the light scratch of his calluses against your palm. Slender fingers stretch over your knuckles, deft and capable. His touch sends a pleasant tingling all the way up from your hand into your buzzing brain.

“Sorry,” you say softly.

Spencer looks confused. His thumb runs the length of yours, a thoughtless movement or a soothing touch, it doesn’t matter. If he does it again, you’ll puddle down onto the pavement for sure.

“What are you sorry for?” he asks.

“I sort of interrupted you.”

A little smile teases the dimple in his cheek. “I don’t mind.”

You give his hand a gentle tug, feeling brazen. It cracks something open in him, and his smile comes out for real, the familiarity between you suddenly so natural.

“Tell me about Eliza Haywood,” you urge. “Did Pope just hate her because she was a woman?”

“That was definitely a big part of it,” Spencer allows, and his voice seems to go back into the conversation while his face stays somewhere else. He’s still wearing that smile, eyes squinted just slightly like he’s having some trouble figuring you out and it might be his new favorite game. “But also it had a lot to do with the perception of novels…”

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chichikoi · 25 days

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hiraeth.

part II. synopsis: she watches as cassian falls for another, grappling with her own hidden affections and their newly snapped mating bond in the process. pairing: cassian x fem!reader fandom: a court of thorns and roses (book series by sarah j maas) genre: angst warnings: none a/n: house of balloons/glass table girls, this is his song... i love him. fluff part two coming up OBVIOUSLY, im not fucking ending it like this i cant do this to my #1 loverboy babygirl kitty princess beloved. @joyseuphoria hi <3

Cassian had always been the beacon of power and resolve, with a demeanor rugged and unyielding. But beneath the surface was vulnerability, and she knew that it was written in the stars for her to remain by his side as his closest friend and confidante, never to become one to uncover that side of him.

But it didn’t make it easier. Watching him as he fell for Nesta’s every glance, every touch, every word that escaped her mouth seemed to throw him deeper and deeper into a trance. And she was fine with that, and accepted it. Accepted that she would never be the object of his softened glances, his featherlight touches, his-

Her thoughts halted as Cassian stormed into the room, frustration radiating off him in waves. She glanced up from her book, her eyes immediately catching the tension etched onto his features. Without a word, she closed her book and shifted, making room for him on the couch.

Cassian collapsed beside her, his movements rough yet familiar. He stretched out, his feet finding their place on her lap almost instinctively. Y/N didn't flinch; instead, she settled into the comfortable silence, waiting for Cassian to speak.

"It's Nesta," he finally muttered, his voice heavy with frustration. "Training with her…it was like walking on eggshells. One wrong move, and she was tearing into me with those ice-cold eyes."

She listened attentively, her gaze soft as she absorbed his words. "It was like she was always testing me," Cassian continued, his voice growing softer with each word. "Pushing me to my limits, making me question everything I thought I knew about myself."

Her fingers instinctively started to massage his feet as he spoke. It was a small gesture, one born out of years of friendship and trust. Cassian didn't protest; instead, he leaned back against the cushions, allowing the soothing touch to ease the tension from his muscles.

As the minutes stretched on, their conversation ebbed and flowed, the weight of Cassian's burdens slowly lifting with each passing moment. Y/N listened, offering words of comfort when needed, but mostly content to provide silent support.

Cassian's breathing eventually evened out, his body relaxing against the cushions. Y/N glanced down to find him fast asleep, his features softened by the serenity of slumber. She smiled softly, her heart swelling with affection.

Suddenly, chains, bolts, and locks shifted, loosening, their weight growing just a little more tolerable. A soul peeked through. Broken, scarred, and trembling — with fear, she realized, but it stretched further and further. Yearning, searching.

It was as though a tether had snapped into place, an invisible thread binding her to Cassian in a way she had never felt before. Confusion flickered as she processed the intensity of the connection, the undeniable pull drawing her closer to him.

She was aware that this was not happening in the slightest. A mind trick. A dream, she thought. betraying once, the jolt of real-time that pushed through her. Burning her cheeks and stealing her breath. How the waking world slipped past the knobby parts of her fingers like a whisper, barely there, because dreaming was just a fancier word for getting lost. It held her there, suspended in imagination and for every second, it felt real. Like she could grasp the outlines and the textures. Like she could touch the weather, drink the clouds, and taste the sunlight.

The gods who had her in a chokehold withdrew.

Death feared her too, it seemed.

He was soaring in the air, and she was on the ground. She tried to reach him but he was far, far out of her reach. Seconds ticked by, and then minutes, and every thought that tried to sneak its way in, through this thick veil, bounced off and dissipated into thin air.

Because she then remembered… that beautiful things shouldn’t be broken. And she had a knack for breaking things.

The soft rays of dawn streamed through the windows of the House of Wind, casting a warm glow over the sitting room where she and Cassian had fallen asleep. As she stirred from her slumber, she found herself alone on the couch, the imprint of Cassian's presence still lingering in the air. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, her mind foggy with the remnants of… dreams? Visions? She felt as though the very fabric of her existence had been torn asunder, leaving her adrift in a sea of uncertainty, but when has that ever stopped her?

So she stood on the ground and longed.

part II here >>

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cheolism · 1 year

Text

study break

✧ yoon jeonghan x afab reader

✧ summary: jeonghan decides to take a break during your study session as the library.

✧ wc is 2.9k

✧ warnings: smut, minors dni. public sex, library sex. oral, fingering. teasing, he's slightly mean. pussy slapping. after-care and kissing, innuendos. admiration of his hands bc ig i have a thing for hands. he pockets your underwear.

✧ request: requesting jeonghan smut please! i really enjoy your works! thank you for writing these :)

“Baby,” Jeonghan called, his voice breaking your concentration. You hummed in response, not looking away from your textbook. When he called your name you glanced up to see him pouting, looking at you with wide eyes.

“What’s up?”

He had his textbook closed, a single notecard poking out of it and marking his spot. You had been pleasantly surprised when your boyfriend agreed to go to the library to study with you, even more so when he actually brought along his things and opened his notes and book.

You weren’t implying that Jeonghan was a bad student, of course. Jeonghan was just the type of person who, infuriatingly, didn’t need to study. He got good grades most of the time without even opening his notes.

So Jeonghan tagging along to study with you was just a little surprising, because he didn’t need to and never did put much effort into studying. You supposed you couldn’t be too surprised that he was the first one to stop between the two of you.

“We’ve been studying for hours,” Jeonghan whined, peering over at you. His eyes were impossibly sweet and round, seemingly the picture of innocence. “I know you want a break.”

You shrugged, going back to reading. “I’m okay. If you want a break, you can go ahead and take one. Don’t let me stop you from taking a rest.”

Jeonghan was quiet after that, leaving you alone. He began shuffling beside you, and you fought the urge to look over at him. Looking at him, you had found in your few months of dating, was just encouraging him.

From the corner of your eye you could see him reach down beneath his chair, picking it up with him still in it. Then, in one great move, Jeonghan hopped closer, slamming the feet of the chair down on the ground.

“Jeonghan!” You gasped, startling. “You’re lucky we’re in a cell.”

A cell, as it was rather unaffectionately called, referred to a series of small study rooms at the back of the library. Some had windows, though they were always filled. The walls had recently been painted red for productivity, but that still didn’t take away from the sense of imprisonment you got whenever you stepped foot into a room.

Jeonghan just shot you a look, wiggling the chair closer to you until his knees were brushing against yours. “Just wanted to be closer to you is all, sweetheart.”

You shot him a weary look, not verbally challenging him. Jeonghan took his phone out of his hoodie pocket, and you watched as he opened up his messages.

Figuring he was done messing about, content now that he was touching some part of you, you went back to your book. Still you couldn’t help but be hyper-focused on that one point of contact between you and Jeonghan, how the warmth of his body seemed to seep through his knee and spread into you.

When his hand lowered to lay on your thigh, you couldn’t help but flinch a little in surprise. He squeezed your thigh, apologizing underneath his breath for startling you.

Jeonghan’s fingers drew your attention like little lights in the dark, your eyes falling to them naturally. His hands were one of the first things that caught your attention, back when you two were just classmates. You had walked into the room, eyes falling onto the exceedingly beautiful man in the third row, spinning his pencil around his fingers.

His fingers were long and thin, no softness to them. They were knobby and crooked, and you loved them. You loved how they felt entangled in your hands, how they felt sliding through your hair, combing it out. And you loved how expertly he used his hands, whether it be playing the guitar or spinning a pen, or reaching deep inside of your cunt, thumb rubbing down on your clit.

You blinked before frowning at yourself. Jeonghan was just touching you, just had his hand innocently laying on your thigh. There was nothing dirty about it, and yet here you were, daydreaming about his fingers stretching you out, palm grinding down on your clit; his fingers reaching up, wet from your juices, pinching your nipples.

Jeonghan sighed from beside you, bringing you out of your indecent thoughts. You watched as he turned his phone, opening up a card game.

Going back to your textbook, you forced yourself to put the weight of his hand out of your mind. You ignored how his hand shifted so often, fingers flexing against the meat of your thigh.

You stared at the illustration in the textbook. Marcus Aurelius. There’s nothing sexy about the fall of Rome, nothing remotely sexy about Stoicism philosophy, nothing remotely sexy about the shape of Jeonghan’s fingers, the weight of his hand, the memory of his hand pushing down at your hips, forcing you still against the bed as he grinded the tip of his cock against your slit, taunting you.

When his hand shifted on your thigh, there was no way you could ignore it. Not with how in-tuned you were to him. You refused to watch as his hand slowly slid, dragging, the tips of his fingers coming to rest inside your thighs.

“Jeonghan,” you warned, voice stern in an attempt to disguise how horny you were.

He shot you a look, raising his eyebrows. “What?”

You gave him a half-hearted look at his look of innocence, knowing him better than to believe it. Still you went back to your textbook.

Nothing in the world, however, let alone Stoic philosophy, could keep your mind away from Jeonghan. You stared at the page, useless against the feel of his hand creeping. When the tip of his forefinger brushed against your pussy through your underwear and sweats, you couldn’t help but, pathetically, clench.

Neither of you said anything as Jeonghan’s fingers wedged deeper between your thighs, his fingers brushing over your clit. You were quiet, staring at the text on the page, as his fingers repeatedly, softly swiped over your clit through your clothes.

You were so warm all of a sudden. Your shirt seemed oppressive, your pussy hot. His fingers never stopped brushing over your heat, aimlessly, mindlessly, as if he truly didn’t mean to slide his fingers down your cunt.

Finally, you swallowed, looking up from the text. Jeonghan turned, meeting your eyes. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

His fingers didn’t stop moving against your cunt. Instead they slotted between your thighs completely, fingers pressing through your sweats, tips of them burying into your cunt while the side of his forefinger bore down on your clit.

A loud, long whine escaped you. You closed your eyes, mouth falling open. Jeonghan cooed at you, removing his hand from your heat. As soon as he did, your eyes flew open, looking at him in betrayal.

“Aw,” he reached out, hands framing your cheeks and squishing your face. “How cute.”

“Jeonghan,” You whined, pouting. Your boyfriend loved cute things; kittens, puppies, Boo Seungkwan, you. He loved it when you acted pathetic and desperate, and you weren’t above giving him what he wanted. Especially when it could end with his fingers buried to the knuckle in your pussy.

“Sorry for distracting you,” Jeonghan hummed, reaching and brushing back your bangs. “That was so mean of me. You can go back to studying now.”

Your mouth parted in surprise, feeling completely cheated. “Jeonghan --”

He shushed you, mimicking your pout. “Don’t worry, baby. Just go back to studying.” “Jeong --”

“Study.” He said again, though this time his voice was slightly more strict. He moved away from you, pushing back and away from the table. You watched as Jeonghan braced one hand on the edge, slowly lowering himself to his knees. He stopped, however, once he noticed you still watching. “I said to study, baby.”

Helpless, but your pussy clenching around nothing as realization shot through you, you looked back at your text. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Jeonghan going beneath the table. Then you felt his hands settle over your knees, squeezing, before crawling up your thighs.

“Up,” he commanded.

You leaned back, bracing yourself on the chair. Jeonghan’s hands, those sly, clever hands, quickly hooked onto the waistband of your pants and tugged them down your thighs. He then grabbed the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down to join your pants, and then completed the journey until they were around your ankles.

His hands returned to your knees. He pressed them apart. A small sigh escaped you as you complied, baring your pussy for his eyes.

The air that rushed against your cunt had you clenching, cold compared to the heat that had been generated from your cunt and trapped by your pants. A spike of shame shot through you at how obviously aroused you were.

Jeonghan let out a soft breath of air, the gust of warmth hitting your thighs and causing you to instinctively clench them. “So wet already, hm? Is this all just from studying?”

“Jeonghan,” you whined, feeling heat rise up to your cheeks at his tease.

He laughed softly, hands kneading your thighs in apology. Then he was wedging his shoulders between your thighs, holding them open, One of his arms wrapped around you, hand settling on your lower back and pressing your forward. His other hand went to your cunt, fingers ghosting over your opening. Your soft noises filled the room as he teased your opening. His touch, or the ghost of it, made your hair stand on its ends and your brain scramble, empty except for the want, the need, for his fingers inside of you.

“Jeonghan,” you begged, canting your hips forward. He pulled back, leaving you grinding against air. “Jeonghan, Hannie. Please.”

“I don’t see you studying,” he taunted. His face appeared from between your knees, a soft little smirk on his face. He moved his hand, the one that hadn’t been between your legs, to brush back his hair behind his ears. “Get to studying like you so desperately wanted to do.”

A loud sob escaped you, tears rising to your eyes. Jeonghan just sighed at the sight. “You’re going to make me feel like this is all my fault, sweetheart.”

You moved to the edge of the chair, legs still spread. You braced your elbows on the table, peering down at the textbook. The text was all muddled, the face of Marcus Aurelius blurred through your tears.

Pleased, Jeonghan took pity on you. With a murmur of good job, baby, his hands went to your inner thighs. His fingers dug into the flesh, nails piercing your skin. He hooked his thumbs between your pussy lips, bearing you for him once more.

“Why don’t you read your book to me, sweetheart,” Jeonghan inquired sweetly, as if you couldn’t feel his breaths against your quivering pussy, as if you weren’t soaking the chair with your need for him. “Wanna know what you’re studying.”

He was such a liar. Both of you knew he didn’t give two fucks about Stoicism philosophy or Roman leaders. Jeonghan was just doing this to be mean, to be a tease.

Regardless, you took a deep, quivering breath. “‘In order to -- to achieve telos, virtue is needed. In this instance virtue relates to human reason and the --”

A horribly loud moan escaped you as Jeonghan ran the flat of his tongue over your entrance and clit, gathering your juices. His tongue went to your clit, focusing on it, laving over it and worshiping it. You couldn’t help but squeeze your eyes shut, toes curling. Slurping noises came from your boyfriend as he slurped and ate at your cunt.

Jeonghan pulled away from your soaking cunt, which was pulsing with need clenching around nothing in desperation to be filled. He placed a kiss against your thigh, your pussy juices that had smeared around his mouth wetting your skin there. “Keep reading, baby.”

Whining, you shifted, hands going to hold your hair and clench it in an effort to ground yourself. You took a deep breath. Your pussy clenched. You couldn’t find it within yourself to be ashamed of the slick that pulsed from you, feeling it slide down your cunt.

“Diogenes Laertius said that virtue is when --” Another sob escaped you as Jeonghan’s mouth reattached to your cunt. He drank from your pussy like it was a fucking elixir of life.

He pulled his mouth off of your cunt just enough to murmur, his lips brushing against your cunt lips, “Don’t stop.”

“He says that virtue is when, quote, a soul has been fashioned to achieve agreement in the whole life, end quote.”

One of his hands released your cunt from his grasp. You sucked in a breath, anticipation curling your fingers and toes. His mouth went to your clit, sucking meanly on it, and one finger prodded at your entrance.

“Please --” You gasped, thighs jumping at the intrusion. “Jeonghannie --”

He withdrew, a horrified sob leaving you. Then there was a sharp stinging sensation over your cunt as he slapped it. You jumped, thighs snapping shut around Jeonghan in surprise. He wedged himself further, hand going to lay flat against your cunt in warning. “Did I say to stop reading?”

“No --”

“Then don’t stop,” he warned. His hand swatted at your cunt, though less severely. “Gotta get your studying in, sweetheart.”

A curse bubbled out of your throat, but you swallowed it back. You couldn’t help but sniffle, releasing your grip on your hair to wipe at your eyes.

There was silence. Then, from under the table: “Color?”

You couldn’t help the wet little giggle that escaped you. “Green, Hannie.”

He hummed. “Keep reading, baby.” Then Jeonghan’s mouth was back on your slit, the loud noise that accompanied his suck so lewd that you couldn’t help moan in response.

Two of his fingers returned to your entrance, dipping in to the first knuckle. Sensing he was waiting, you licked your lips and began reading. “‘To develop one’s reason to perfection is to not only live in the best condition for a human being, but . . .’”

Slowly, with his mouth working at your clit to take away any discomfort, though you were drenched enough to where there was none to be had, Jeonghan sank his fingers inside of your cunt. Your pussy eagerly accepted them, clenching around his digits in an effort to accept them further. Once they sunk all the way, his fingers brushing on that sponge deep within you, Jeonghan began working his fingers; stretching you, assaulting your walls, focusing on your g-spot.

He was relentless with it. You knew he could bruise your cunt with just his fingers from experience, knew he could use his fingers just as well as his cock. And he did. Jeonghan’s mouth kissed and suckled at your clit as his fingers slammed into your g-spot, milking you for what you were worth.

The tension that had been building in your stomach was rapidly beginning to mount, stomach tightening with it. You couldn’t read anymore, your eyes tightly squeezed shut and soft little moans leaving your lips. Your hips grinded towards him, eager, seeking out the pressure that his fingers willingly provided.

When the tension snapped you had to bite down on your lip to muffle the shriek. It was deafening, almost, your release soaking exploding from your cunt and drowning you in pleasure.

When you came back to consciousness, it was Jeonghan holding you. He had your face pressed against his stomach as he stood before you, hands combing through your hair. Jeonghan was murmuring sweetly to you, and when you finally tilted your head up towards him, he was wearing a soft little grin.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he greeted. Jeonghan ducked his head, pressing a kiss to your lips. You sighed into the kiss, letting your eyes flutter shut again.

His mouth was red and puffy, you noticed, when he pulled away. Jeonghan’s eyes, however, were shining. He pressed a kiss to your temple, your hair, and then stood back up. “Think it’s time for us to go back home.”

You nodded, agreeing. Jeonghan pulled away from you, hand moving to pull at your ear affectionately. You watched as he gathered his supplies and put them in his backpack before returning to yours. He hovered over your textbook before laughing. “Think this Stoic guy has ever seen a person eaten out in a library before?”

Feeling heat rush to your face, you reached out and slammed the textbook shut. “His name is Marcus Aurelius.”

“Oh,” Jeonghan cooed, gathering your book and putting it in your bag. “So I guess our little study session was helpful.”

You swatted at him, causing him to laugh. Jeonghan then knelt beside you, his knees cracking. He grabbed your underwear, soaked, and began using it to wipe your thighs.

“Jeonghan!” You hissed, hands reaching out to stop him.

He shrugged, pulling away further. “They’re already drenched in your pussy.”

Jeonghan then put your underwear in his hoodie pocket. You wondered if you would ever get them back. With careful hands he guided your feet into your sweatpants, sliding them up your calves.

Then he helped you stand, your knees weak. The two of you traded kisses as he tugged your sweats up your legs.

Making a face, you pulled away. “I feel disgusting.”

Jeonghan pressed a final kiss to your lips. “Well let’s get you home and on the bed.”

“Don’t you mean in bed?”

He smirked then, eyes dark and twinkling. “No. No, I don’t.”

#my writing #jeonghan #jeonghan svt #jeonghan fic #jeonghan oneshot #jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan #yoon jeonghan fic #yoon jeonghan oneshot #svt jeonghan #svt jeonghan fic #svt jeonghan oneshot #svt #seventeen #svt oneshot #svt fic #svt smut #seventeen fic #seventeen oneshot

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hyunsvngs · 8 months

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Ok so ot8! Poly skz who all spoil u and treat you like the princess u r but channie is the only one you feel safe enough with to go into subspace 🥺 and one day ure cuddling with the members (lets go w lix and minho cuz imma hoe for them) and one of them kinda brushes their thumb on ur lips or make u suck on it and u get all floaty and fuzzy just as chan enters the room and ure all grappy hands and “daddy🥺🥺” and he COOS AND COME SCOOP YOU UP AND ASSHSGYWISOSUSGSSJSK

I literally can’t stop thinking about this scenario plz continue cuz my mind went mush🫰🏻

-kuromi anon

i propose:

minho was fingering you on the couch, and lixie had kindly placed his thumb in your mouth for you to suck steadily on. you were too loud, too loud for chan and jisung who were working in the next room but you just couldn’t help yourself! minho’s degradations mixed with little praises were sending you into a very, very floaty space. you hadn’t ever entered your subspace without chan, who was a pro at making you feel all fuzzy, protected and overwhelmed, so you assumed it simply wouldn’t happen.

until that moment. something about the way the two men were crowded around you, limbs intertwined underneath a fluffy, knitted blanket made you feel so safe. your feet were in your favourite frilly socks but you were bare otherwise, apart from a t-shirt of jeongin’s that felix currently had his hand underneath. it was just so comfortable, familiar with two of the boys you loved most.

you could feel yourself slipping. minho noticed, too, his pointy nose brushing your cheek as he quickened the pace of his fingers. “aww, are you feeling floaty, kitty?” his smile was heard through his voice, your eyes being closed in ecstasy prohibiting your vision. felix giggled from next to you, hand stroking through your hair while you suckled on his thumb.

“so fucking cute,” felix whispered, his eyes wide with awe. his lips stretched into a smile when his thumb went to stroke across your lip and you chased it with your mouth. “look at her getting all fuzzy with us. it’s s’ sweet!”

“mm, our slut just loves my fingers so much, huh? you don’t even need your daddy here to help you, gettin’ all sweet for us without him,” minho bit into your earlobe softly, fingers curving to probe your gspot. you shifted, your legs thrashing underneath the soft blanket. all of a sudden, it was like things started to make sense to you. you felt so so safe with minho and felix, two of your favourites if you were being honest - but you wanted your daddy.

“d-daddy,” you whine, head thrashing back against the fabric of the sofa. minho chuckled next to you, shaking his head fondly. felix moved his wet thumb to circle over your clit, heightening your pleasure and making you gush over minho’s knobby digits. your eyes fluttered open, only to shut again just as quick. you couldn’t take it. “need- need- hnnng, minnie, minho, please, need it-“

minho’s chuckling again, his fingers thrusting into you just a tad deeper. “open your eyes.”

you opened your eyes on command, eyes hazy with the light of the room. the main light wasn’t on, only the smaller lamps dotted around the room, but you still felt like the room was way too bright. blinking a few times, trying hard to ignore the way you were very, very close to cumming, your eyes settled on a figure by the door.

chan. he was standing there, bulging arms crossed over his chest and a soft smile on his face. he looked proud, so proud to see you succumbing to your headspace like that even when he wasn’t there. but, he was there, present, and he started to stalk across the room to you like you were prey.

“i’m guessing she’s slipping,” chan mused when he reached your body, hands smoothing over your thighs on top of the blanket. you let out a whine again, all of your thoughts going blurry with the headspace you were going into. it definitely didn’t help that felix was rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves so precisely, minho was hitting your gspot… you felt like you were going to die.

“slippin’ so nice for us, she’s such a good girl,” you gasped sharply when felix’s deep timbre hit your ears.

chan giggled, his fingers starting to play with the frills of your socks underneath the blanket. “what’s up, baby?”

“hnng, daddy- ‘m gonna cum, oh, oh- can i, can i?”

chan cooed at you, his eyes soft beneath wild, dark curly hair. “of course you can, baby. such a good girl.”

♡ juno

#juno’s asks ♡#kuromi anon 💌#asks: ot8 #i love this actually

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rosedom · 1 month

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Well, I've got an idea. Like you could choose any genshin character of your choice. Imagine them sharing their insecurity, after sex, of being submissive, them feeling guilty for always being on the recieving end, feeling like they don't satisfy you enough, and the next time you both go at it, you're peppering them with kisses and praises 10x than before, reassuring and telling them just how good you feel having control over their body.

"an unnamed player has invited AETHER to play . . . the moon will yield to the sun, always

✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!amab!reader, sub!bottom!ftm!aether, reader's a service top thru & thru, post-coitus insecurities leading to: vaginal fingering, praise kink, (slight) dacryphilia, an absurd amount of pet names, prior creampie, creaming, implied aftercare .

A/N : i started this ages ago, but i only just recently got motivated to continue it . . . def got carried away—but when don't i, when i write abt aether? <(＿　＿)>

"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."

The sun hides behind the clouds, and it is out of not only love for the creatures under the sky but out of an endearing bashfulness at the tail end of your intense gaze.

Your sun, your Aether is shy, here, tucking his face into the soft skin where your neck and shoulder meet, his blush warm against you. You must be his cloud, blanketing him in your warmth and keeping his from being wasted, from floating away into the surrounding air.

The blanket is tucked up tight around you both, cold tendrils of air trying to seep into the open spaces where it doesn't quite cocoon you both, a hollow gap that allows coldness to slither down your neck. Thankfully, Aether's breath keeps the space relatively warm, hotter-so when he buries himself further.

"Why're you hiding, sunshine?" you murmur, wrapping your arms tight around him and keeping him snug in your pillowy, cloud-like hold. "What's up?"

You ask, because normally he's not so bashful post-coitus. He shivers and weakly moans, sure, embarrassed at the way his cunt is puffy and you've left his legs shaking—but your cock is never so ruined.

Sometimes, when you're finished, you're still hard—hard because Aether came, and he came enough for the two of you.

Other times, you're soft, because you finally came; but it was only to make him feel good, better, filling him to the brim and thumbing at his messy cunt when you pull out.

Really, it is always Aether who is left melted in a puddle. You, at most, are a lil' sweaty, huffy-breathed as you smoothly move to clean him up, to bundle him in your arms—just like now—, and tell him how good he did.

He sniffles, shakes his head.

At the sound—the feeling of hot tears touching your skin—, you try and pull back, to see him eye-to-eye. But you should never look the sun in his face when he flares, and he only holds fast to your middle, keeps his nose firmly pressed to the side of your neck.

"Aether, honey—" you try, soft. What's wrong? is hidden beneath tufts of white, tufts of something sad.

Scratchy and quiet, he asks, "Am I really?"

"Are you really what?" You squeeze him, but the tender affection only serves to make his shoulders, bare still, quake more. Desperately, you tug the blanket back up to protect his shivers as he sniffs again, louder this time.

"Good."

"Of course you are! Honey, you're—"

He shakes his head again, dislodging the blanket some and forcing you to cut off your words, to tug the soft wool back up and swaddle him.

With a sharp intake of breath, a forced exhale, Aether finds his words. "I just—I don't feel like I don't... satisfy you, 's all."

"'That's all?' Ae—"

He shakes his head. "You don't even cum half as much as I do!"

"'Cause I like making you cum." At the words, Aether blushes like mad—or, at least, you assume he does based on the way his cheeks brand into your skin. "I like makin' you feel good."

"But..."

"But what, honey?" You soothe him with large, broad strokes across his knobby spine, each gentle protrusion smoothed over by your palm.

He sighs, the heavy exhale of breath washing over your neck and making involuntary goosebumps prickle at your skin. "Don't you get tired of it? I'm always—submissive. Always the same. Don't I bore you?"

Your heart hurts, at that. "Aeth," you start, slow n' soft. "I could never get tired of you. You—I love it, honey. I love how you give yourself to me like that, let me be in control. I wouldn't give that up for the world."

"I—"

"You're perfect for me. Do... do you not like it?"

"What? No! I love it—"

With a huffing laugh, you shake your head. "Then what's the problem?"

He doesn't answer.

"If someone... said something—"

"Nobody did—at least, not directly. I just—I overheard some guys at the bar, talking about how they're bored of their wives." Aether's thumbs absentmindedly rub at your back, at your spine, helping to make the tension leak out of you. "They were drunk, I think. I hope." (I hope, because he already feels terribly sorry for their wives, but for the men to be in their right minds, talking so awful about who they should love.)

"What were they sayin'?"

He shakes his head. "Stuff about how their wives just—lay there, when they're having... y'know. How their wives never even went down on them, and whatever.

It sounded a lot like me, 's all."

"Sunshine," you murmur. "You do blow me."

He squawks, punches lightly at your back. "That's...!"

You giggle. "'m only teasing, honey. I don't like seeing you so upset. But—" in a bid to soothe him, you run your fingers through his long hair, brushing through the tangles that accumulated earlier. "If I ever make you feel unsatisfied, that's a different story; but I love you, I love how you give yourself to me in bed. I know it's embarrassin', but, hell: I adore it. I get off on getting you off."

"But you don't get off half the time!"

You shake your head. "Physically? Sure. But I get off emotionally, every single time." You close your eyes and nuzzle into the crown of his head, burying yourself in the smell of his soft, honey-scented hair. (Where else would the pet name have come from?) "I don't... care, much, for getting anything back. You know this."

"I do."

Smiling, you murmur, "Just makin' sure. You sucking me off—I don't really care for that, most of the time." Laughing, "And God knows I don't want to be fucked. An orgasm doesn't do anything for me, honey. What does it for me—that's seeing you get off, seein' you get all the pleasure you deserve."

Aether groans. "You didn't have to put it that way."

"How'd you prefer I put it?" You tease your hands across his middle, his sides, making him erupt in small giggles as he pushes away from you. You manage to pin him down, spinning the two of you around until you've got him on his back and the blanket half off both of you. "Would you prefer I say how hot it is when you cum for me? How pretty you are when your cock twitches in my mouth? How much I love making you lose your voice? How—"

He yelps, smothering your lips with his hands. You laugh, pressing kisses to his palms as he calms down. "Horndog."

"Yeah," you say when you lean down to rub your noses together, a whisper of a kiss. "Your horndog."

The draft gets in the way of your kisses, forcing you to flop onto Aether and bring the blanket with you, the two of you swaddled up like two peas in a pod. He giggles at your antics, huffing in your face, before he goes limp and still in your hold.

You suppose, then, that it's alright for the sun to be hidden in the clouds—but only sometimes, and only so long as it comes out by the end of the day, to grace you in its glow. A ruddy-red blush blooms across his cheeks, again, just like it did earlier as he was flush to your hips, riding your cock.

The hot-over-warmth of the sun fits in your palms perfectly, and you're almost scared to touch it in fear of it snuffing out; but this is a fear you've long had, ever since you first laid with your sunshine.

"Aether." You push n' pull at him, soft and gentle, letting his limbs fall where you want them but making sure they're comfortable, not aching. He goes easily, sighing into your touch, making cute sounds and simply being so, so perfect in your arms. "God. You're perfect."

He doesn't talk, this time. Really, he rarely does; he much prefers quiet pleas, quiet sounds of pleasure that roll over you in hot, hot waves.

When your hand trails down his belly, following the path of his happy trail by feel alone, you simultaneously lean down and lick at the frantic bob of his Adam's apple. “Can I?” you ask, soft as his skin against your palm. The heat of his mons is emanating, but you're loath to go further, to return to the well-used mess of his cunt, before you’ve got the go-ahead.

You just had sex, after all. As much as you love him, as much as you want to smother him in pleasure and orgasm after orgasm, you don't want to overwhelm him. His cunt’ll be oversensitive, you know, but you want to prove to him how perfect he is to you, how much you love the submissiveness he seems so loathe to accept. He’s bare only inches from your wandering hand, and, you know, too, that he’ll be still slick as well.

“Yeah,” he whispers, tilts his hips up. His cockhead—thick and protruding, still swollen and sensitive from earlier—brushes your finger, and his breath cuts off in a sharp lil’ whimper.

“Easy, honey,” you soothe, sliding your finger off of him and instead taking to rubbing your pointer and middle across his labia, gentle against either side of his cunt. “Let me show you how much I adore you, yeah? I love this, Aeth.” You suckle at the tender skin beneath his ear before you lean back, only slightly, cupping his face with your free hand.

Your thumb rubs across his cheek, warm beneath your touch, and he whimpers again as he rests against you. “You don’t hafta—” he tries to convince you otherwise—convince you against the ache of his cunt, the way his body begs for more of your touch—, but you hush him and slide your thumb across the hot jut of his cock.

“But I want to, honey, believe me.” You move in gentle motions, stroking him enough to make pleasure jump up his spine without overwhelming him—not quite yet, that is. “God, my sweet boy. You're so hard, all for me, so perfect and ready and willing for me. Won’t you let me jerk you off, pretty thing?”

“Yes, please—” he whines, tucking his face into your hand as best he can amidst the molten lava spilling from his cunt. But when your finger jacks him just right, right under the hood of his cock, he arches forward into you, and he starts off with a meak, “I want—” before sharply quieting.

“No, no, none of that, Aeth,” you murmur, forcing his face straight to your own. You smile all soft at him, leaning forward to bump noses in a display of rather juvenile affection—one that never fails to make Aether giggle, even just a little. He huffs amidst it ‘til you continue, asking, “What do you want, darlin’? Anything you want, I'll give to you. All you hafta do is ask.

“Please ask me, honey. I’ll give you anything.” You seal the deal with a soft kiss, licking across his already kissed up, red lips. You've taken to soothingly rubbing you fingers up and down across his labia, these barely-there touches that stoke the flames of his arousal but do little to get him off. It's merely proof that you're there, that you'll never leave. (The touch is as much a reminder of your presence on him as the vestiges of your cum is in him.)

When you break apart, he sucks in a breath and murmurs, humid against your mouth, “I—I want you. Want your fingers.” For good measure, he adds, “In me;” but you're quick on the uptake, and you've already got your two fingers driving from his labia and sliding in smooth n’ deep to the third knuckles. His slick and your own cum coats them as you thrust them in, slow n’ out, soft and wholly gentle-like.

“There’s my good boy,” you coo, curling your fingers upwards towards the swell of his g-spot. It’s long abused, by now, and the gentlest brush against it makes Aether mewl, but you're so, so proud of him, now, and you aim to please him.

Your own cock: you’re not even sure if you're hard or not, chubbed up or not, and you find you don't quite care enough to find out, not when Aether's so perfect on (quite literally) the palm of your hand. “S’good, so good,” he babbles, eyes doe-like while thick tears start bubbling up at the edges of them.

“I know it is, sweet sunshine.”

The sun, half-out from the clouds, is gorgeous in the rain shower. It's shimmering and shining; and it's soaked, Aether’s labia parting for the easy squelch of your fingers in n’ out.

He’s wet ‘nuff to slide in a third finger, still loosened up from your fingers and cock both earlier this evening. Thick, white cum begins to dribble out between your fingers to coat your knuckles, the top of your hand, and you're not sure what's his and what's your own, mixed up and muddled up deep in his cunt.

“Ohh,” he moans, drawn-out as the line of slick that drips to your wrist. If there could, small lil' hearts would surely pop up in his eyes, the glare of the sunshine through water making your heart all soft n’ sappy for this gorgeous man.

“You feel so soft around me, honey,” you murmur, pressing your forehead against his. His breath and yours mingle, his bottom lip hanging slightly open and quivering with each little moan that tumbles past. “So loose n’ open f’r me. How couldn't I love this?”

“I—”

“Shh, Aeth. I got you, honey, my sunshine.” Your hand falls to rest on the side of his neck. You clutch at his tender skin, clasped halfway around his throat with your thumb resting atop his Adam’s apple. It's not a tight hold but any means; instead, it is simply there, a warm presence against the rapid flutter of his pulse. “I adore you, this—” you curl your fingers once more for emphasis, swiveling your palm to grind against the oversensitive swell of his cock. Your palm allows it a reprieve against the concentrated stimulation of your thumb, only moments ago.

“This is my favorite,” you murmur. Then: “Well. Second favorite. You’re my number one.” Cheeky, you kiss his slack-jawed mouth, swallowing up his mewls and other moans. “The most perfect boy in the world, ‘nd I have him all to myself. I’m so, so lucky.”

He nods vehemently, bumping his forehead a bit rough into yours. You laugh, light, and he scrunches his nose at you rather adorably: that is, until your fingers and palm grind just-so, just right, and his entire face slackens—not only his jaw. “Mm!”

“Y’make such pretty sounds, too.” Once you've got a set rhythm—one Aether seems rather amiable to, mewlin’ like a kitten in heat on your hand alone—, you gone in on it, repeating it over n’ over again ‘til those tears begin to stream down his cheeks.

“Let go for me, honey.” You kiss the tears off one cheek as you let them continue to flow down his other one, allowing him the reprieve, the ability to revel in the absolute catharsis the saltwater provides. “Just feel.”

Feel, he does, crying louder and bawling harder, but he fists his hands into your back and aches into you, and he's a goner, just like that. Warmth slathers itself on your palm, your fingers, as you slow your motions with the abating of his orgasm. If you looked, you know there'd be even more white—thick and opaque—smeared across your hand and his cunt, and the thought sends you so dizzy that you simply must kiss your pretty, perfect boy, kiss him ‘till his breath leaves him entirely and he's putty in your arms.

His heartbeat is erratic, a rabbit-quick putter-putter that presses against you, chest to chest as you are. You lean back, just enough, only a bit, waiting until his bleary eyes open, and you're face-to-face with golden sunshine. “Hi, honey.”

Smiling this absolutely adoring, this blinding grin, one that puffs up his flushed cheeks and makes him look so soft, so kissable, so wholly well-fucked, Aether giggles. He fucking giggles, airy and light as anything. The sound of his laughter reels you in with him, wrapping your arms around him—even the one with the hand all covered and cum and slicked up. Your wet hands pressing into his waist makes him erupt in louder lil’ hiccuping laughs.

“What?” you ask, teasing, trying to kiss his cheeks through the way both your chests shake and disrupt the two of you.

He shakes his head, this way and that, a vehement, “Nothing!” falling past his lips. “‘s nothing.”

You pout. “Nuh uh,” you say, because while you’re every bit the adult, every part of the full-grown cock you stuffed up in Aether only hours before, you’re a child at heart, here, with him. You’re allowed the immaturity. “Ain’t nuthin’, if it’s you.”

“I just—” With a sigh, Aether’s giggles taper off, and he rolls the two of you over. He rests on your stomach, belly to belly and soaked cunt to soft cock. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Aeth.”

He doesn’t say anything more, but he smiles, nuzzles down into your throat. You’ll need to clean up, but that can come later—later, when your sunshine is radiant on top of you, resting and basking in the warmth of the room. He is your sunshine in every sense of the word; and that must make you his moon.

If so, you’d gladly revolve around him. It’d be impossible not to.

if i'm given the chance to pick whoever i want, i can guarantee that it'll end up being aether 90% of the time LMAO he's like a motivating force for me, honestly ;; but irregardless, i hope this fulfilled ur lil' idea, anon !!

14 MAR. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

#ㅤ✦【 ASKS 】#there's just .#there's smth abt a pretty boy submitting himself to me . . .#fully and entirely<3 #sub aether #aether smut #aether x reader #aether genshin impact #sub genshin #genshin smut #genshin x reader #amab reader #dom reader #ftm smut

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st-danger · 3 months

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Saint you've cursed (blessed?) me with an interest in piss that didn't happen before I read your work

Aeon's face feels too hot. Not a warm blush, but a prickling kind of heat, needling. He looks at Swiss with big, pleading eyes, shifts restlessly in his lap, fingers worrying the fabric of his shirt right at the collar, picking at it. He feels how hot Swiss is underneath him, the press of it against his ass unmistakable and obscene.

"I don't think I can," he mumbles. Swiss looks unbothered, the hand on his waist and the one on his bare, knobby knee rubbing reassuring circles.

"Sure you can," he says easily, and though Aeon may still be wearing boxers, he feels naked regardless, under the watchful gold eyes.

There's no way he can relax. He has no idea why; Swiss has never led him astray so far. Now, that's not to say he hasn't led him down some very strange paths, but he's never taken him somewhere bad. He has no reason to feel shy about this, he knows, no reason at all to feel any modicum of shame, but does he ever. Small. That's how he feels, if he had to sum it up. Something inherently private about this that makes him want to curl into himself even as the darker part of his brain lights up pleasantly at the idea of showing him this. He wants to. That's what makes the hesitation so much stranger for him. The idea is thrilling, but the same nerves that tingle with anticipation do so with a sprinkling of shame.

Swiss pulls him in a little closer, adjusting his position on the bed, and leaning Aeon closer to him, so he can nuzzle into Aeon's neck.

"You're cute like this," he says, the hot breath in combination of the hand tracing against his spine sending a shiver through him. "You don't get shy about much anymore." That's true; Aeon never had much to begin with. He's not Dew, he's not necessarily in love with feeling bad about things the way he is. He's certainly not had any qualms about going for what he's wanted in his human body, and Swiss seems to have made it his personal mission to fuck any nervousness out of him from the day he stepped out of the flames and into the abbey.

Aeon reminds him of this, and Swiss hums.

"I think I've done a good job," he says, and the hand on his knee slides up, a bit, fingertips stroking ticklishly on his thigh. "But you're also just filthy, aren't you." Not a question, a statement. Aeon feels the smile against this neck, followed by a press of lips that he tilts his head back for. Easier access. He can't stop fiddling with the shirt. "That cock gets hard for anything, doesn't it?"

Well, if Swiss continues, it's entirely possible that he's going to be too hard to give him what he wants. He takes a deep breath, lets his eyes fall closed while Swiss lays a series of wet, open mouthed kisses on his neck before sucking- lighter than he wants, a delicious tease that makes his lips part.

"Tell me why it's gonna get hard for this," Aeon says with a lazy smile. Swiss can be very, very convincing. "Help me relax." Again, a hum and then he jumps with the fingertips move from his thigh to his belly, to below his navel. Stroking.

Tickling.

His abs jump under the touch, but Swiss doesn't go any further than that. Nothing harder. Just enough to make the muscles twitch.

"Fabric's gonna cling to you when it's wet," Swiss murmurs. "Gonna show every inch of you. Bet you didn't think you could feel more exposed wearing clothes, huh? Once you show me this, there's no going back." Aeon's stomach flips pleasurably. He's going to keep his eyes shut for now, no question. "You'll have shown me so much and neither one of us are going to forget that, are we?"

"Probably not," he admits, and can't help the little whine that bubbles out before he can stop it when Swiss begins kneading right over his achy bladder.

"Nah, we won't. Won't forget the feel of it either, all warm. Running down your legs. Onto me." Underneath him he feels Swiss twitch. "You wanna be nasty. You wanna make a mess. I know you; you do so well playing cute and coy with the others, but I know you. You can't lie to me." Harder pressing and Aeon tenses, bites his lip with a worried frown. Swiss sucks the lobe of his ear into his mouth and scrapes it with his teeth, sending a jolt down his spine. "It's sore, isn't it? Getting there at least. What a nice relief it's gonna be."

"Why don't you think it's gross?" he asks, shifting restlessly with every rub of Swiss's hand, harder and harder now to squeeze and hold it in. His legs aren't crossed. It's a much more difficult task without that extra help, and Swiss is nothing if not determined.

"Get us all wet and messy, sweetheart," Swiss cajoles, sucking on his neck again. "Show me. Let me see how relieved you are after. Go on and be dirty." The tone- Aeon can't help it, something in the sugary-sweet dark voice makes him crumble. Not like- well, honestly, not like he wasn't going to do it, but. You know. It's convincing. "Wet yourself and then I'm going to make you cum. I bet you'll be chubby before you even finish."

"You think?" Aeon breathes, and feels the first few drops blurt out. Can't help it now, not with the way Swiss presses and rubs. He tries to hold back, toes curling, hands grabbing and pulling at the collar of Swiss's shirt, but it's a lost cause.

"Let's find out," Swiss says, and cups his cock in a large, warm hand as Aeon flushes, wickedly feverish, sickly delighted as he begins to dribble.

#st-speaks #ghost #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul #phantom ghoul #aeon ghoul #swiss/aeon #swiss/phantom #swiss x aeon #swiss x phantom #ghost fanfiction #ghost headcanons

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sunflowervoltwentyeight · 6 months

Text

Hello! This is a fic rec of my all-time favorite fics. These fics have really stuck with me over the years, and I've read many of them multiple times. This is an ongoing fic rec, that I will continue to update. These fics are organized by word count from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!

Of Mates and Men by bananaheathen / @bananaheathen (630k)

In which, Louis and Harry meet as best men for their best friends' wedding... well... sort of.

Or, the one where Harry's just moved back from New York and Louis doesn't believe in romance.

Or, I guess... the one where Zayn and Liam are getting married.

Hiding Place by orphan_account (365k)

Louis never wanted a soulmate, didn’t really care for the whole Bonding thing at all, really. Enter Harry Styles, who’s wanted to be Bonded for as long as he could remember. With one fateful meeting in an X Factor bathroom, Louis gets a dagger on his arm and the realization that just because Harry is his soulmate doesn’t mean it’s mutual.

From the X Factor house to Madison Square Garden, from the Fountain Studios stage to stadiums across the world, Louis has to learn to love without losing himself completely, because someday his best friend will Bond to someone and replace Louis as the center of his universe. Meanwhile, Harry begins to think that maybe fate doesn’t actually know what it’s doing after all, because his other half has clearly been right in front of him the whole time. All he has to do now is convince Louis to give them a chance.

Or, the canon compliant Harry and Louis love story from the very beginning, where the only difference is that the love between them is literally written on their skin, and there’s only so much they can hide.

You Can Hear It In The Silence by imogenelee / @imogenleefic (234k)

When Harry Styles was accepted into a post-grad degree, he knew he could no longer afford his flat, leaving him with three options: 1) Move back into student halls. 2) Become homeless. 3) Move in with his best (and only) friend, Niall, and three of Niall's other mates. He went with the third option. But it was a close race. Shame one of his roommates reminded him why he only has one friend. If there is one thing Louis Tomlinson can't stand, it's pretentious tossers, having grown up around enough of them. If there is one thing he can't live without, it would be his friends. So he was proper thrilled to move in with his best mates and a couple of other lads. That was until he discovered one of them was the archetype for a pretentious tosser.

In the interest of seeing out the twelve-month lease without killing each other, they both try (debatable) to get along despite believing they are opposite in almost every conceivable way, each having the communication skills of a cucumber, and secrets that have no business be kept secret.

One More Time Again by orphan_account (232k)

Harry looks down to where Louis is cradling his hand between his own. Louis' hands are slender, the bones delicate, the nails bitten short. The 2-8 on the backs of his fingers is gone, but the faded scar from a skateboarding mishap in Year 7 is still there.

Harry's hand is awkward, knobby-boned and naked, no rings, no tattoos. It's too big for his wrist and his wrist too big for his arm. Yet it still somehow fits in Louis' in the painfully perfect way it always did.

He blinks back the sting in his eyes.

On the morning of his second sold-out performance at Madison Square Garden, Harry wakes up to find that he's sixteen years old, on The X Factor, and that he has a chance to make things right.

A canon-compliant fix-it fic (sort of).

Stranger Stars by shaylea (212k)

Five years ago, Africa offered a grieving Louis Tomlinson an escape from an England he couldn't tolerate. Now it's become home as he leads overland tours across the continent with his best friend and driver Zayn Malik. What's meant to be just another ordinary six-week trip from Cape Town to Nairobi turns into anything but, when future lawyer/current photographer and songwriter Harry Styles and his friends join Louis' latest set of passengers.

Given A Chance by fabby / @fabby1d (173k)

Five years after One Direction took their last tour, the last thing Louis Tomlinson ever expected to happen while on a tea run at the local Piggly Wiggly was to run into his ex-boyfriend and ex-bandmate Harry Styles.

The odds of them ever running into each other again had to be super slim, right?

Wrong.

What happens when you mix ex-boyfriends with a large serving of Small Town America? Will Louis and Harry be able to set aside their differences, or will Louis be able to stay breezy as fuck in the wake of Harry’s arrival?

(or, the one where Louis and Harry run into each other five years after One Direction ends and learn how to love each other again. Featuring: Reggie as the overweight labrador, Niall as Louis’ last grip on reality, and Nowheresville, North Carolina as the setting for Louis’ worst nightmare to come true.)

The Wonderlands by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci (150k)

"Somewhere between chaos and control — these are the wonderlands."

Harry's daughter, Andy, is signed to Louis' girl band. Her path to success is marked by competition, chaos, and for Harry, a love affair.

As You Are by Zarah5 (139k)

AU. Five years after The X Factor launched his career as a radio host and songwriter, Louis Tomlinson returns as a judge. Falling for a contestant is the last thing he needs. It's also against his contract.

The only reason Harry auditions for The X Factor is because his best mate signed the two of them up as some kind of joke. Harry doesn't get the big deal—not until he's faced with this season's judges and realises that one of them used to be his desperate, impossible teenage crush.

Unbelievers by isthatyoularry / @isthatyoularry (136k)

It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

Or: The one where Louis and Harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything.

Empty Skies by green_feelings / @greenfeelings (134k)

For three years, Harry has been running from his past. Now, he is moving to London and pledges to fulfil his only dream – making it big in the music industry. Not everyone has a place, though, and the competition is tough. As is his past catching up on him.Louis is part of the biggest boy band of the world, and getting there had meant a lot of hard work, as well as sacrificing parts of his heart and soul. He’s still happy. Maybe not as happy as he could be, but who is he to complain?

Let's Fall in Love in a Place You Want to Stay by embro (134k)

A George of the Jungle / Tarzan AU where Louis is a model who meets Wild Man Harry in the Congo. He was raised by apes and barely speaks a word of English and turns Louis' life upside down.

Love Is A Rebellious Bird by 100percentsassy, Gloria_Andrews / @gloriaandrews (134k)

AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

Don't hum Bolero.

Wild Love bypurpledaisy / @harrydaisy (130k)

“Good,” Julia says, clearly pleased to have them both uncomfortable and unable to look at each other. “Now, I only have one more question before you can go. What are you planning to do when this experiment ruins your friendship?”

“We said we’d stay friends no matter what,” Harry says smoothly, his chin lifting in defense.

“That was our one thing going into it,” Louis agrees. “Stay friends no matter what.”

Julia raises a perfectly manicured brow, “That’s all fine and good. But I hope you realize your emotions aren’t going to realize this is an experiment in the end. If one of you falls for the other and finds out those feelings are not reciprocated, you’re not going to be able to laugh it off as a social experiment. I’m not saying you shouldn’t do this, I’m just hoping you’ve considered all of the possible outcomes.”

- AU: Two best friends try to date each other for forty days. It’s supposed to be fun until emotions make it complicated.

After All These Years byLifeInAColorWheel (127k)

It’s been seven years since One Direction went on hiatus and it’s been eight years since Louis and Harry broke up. They’ve been strangers to one another since then.

But, over the course of a weeklong boys’ trip, history between Harry and Louis resurfaces.

Or,

The one when Louis and Harry don’t talk, connect again years later, and reflect on why their love collapsed.

Wild and Unruly by 100percentsassy, Gloria_Andrews / @gloriaandrews (123k)

Harry is a cowboy sitting on the biggest oil reservoir in Wyoming, and Louis is the paralegal assigned to pressure him into selling his land.

I'll Fly Away by juliusschmidt / @juliusschmidt (122k)

Harry and Louis grew up together in Lake County, Harry with his mom and stepdad in a tiny cottage on Edward’s Lake and Louis in his family’s farmhouse a few minutes down the road. But after high school, Louis stuck around and Harry did not; Harry went to Chicago where he found a boyfriend and couple of college degrees. Six years later, Harry ends up back in Edwardsville for the summer and he and Louis fall into old patterns and discover new ones.

ft. One Direction, the local boyband; Horan’s Bar and Grill; families, most especially children and babies; Officer Liam Payne; many local festivals and fireworks displays; and Anne Cox, PFLAG President.

Bitter Tangerine by purpledaisy / @daisyharry (119k)

Maybe it’s Niall, he reasons to calm his storming heart. Maybe he’s not actually gone for the holidays yet, maybe Harry got the dates confused. Slowly, he holds his breath and pushes the kitchen door open. The first thing he sees make him jump, a wooden spoon held out like a sword. Once his brain processes the sight in front of him, it’s less the sword that gets him than who is attached to the wooden spoon.

“Harry,” the swordsmen speaks before Harry can, his voice low and steady though confusion laces each word.

Harry’s breath catches. Every string around his heart, all the protection he spent nine months building, rips out and tears open all at once as he says, “Hi Louis.”

AU: Nine months after they break up, a twist of fate brings Harry and Louis back together at Christmas.

Never Be by cherrystreet / @cherrystreet (117k)

Monica: You've got to see her again.Ross: And why do you care so much?Monica: Because! You could get to live out my fantasy!Ross: You had fantasies about Emily?Monica: No! Y’know, the fantasy! Meet someone from a strange land, fall madly in love, and spend the rest of your lives together.

The one where Harry Styles moves to Connecticut from England for nine months as a part of a study abroad program, and he just so happens to move in with Louis Tomlinson and family.

Burn to Ash by bethaboo (116k)

Harry is sitting there, so fucking casual, and Louis realizes in a split second he was not ready. When Harry walked out in Detroit and never looked back, he was a boy verging on a man, still only twenty years old, but there's a man in his place now. Hard and resolute, yes, but still, for the first time in a long time, Louis can kind of see the old Harry in him. The soft, directness of his gaze, the hesitant smile he gives to Lou, the way he wrings his ridiculously large hands in his lap.

He's a little bit the eager sixteen year old puppy dog again, his innocence and sweetness resurrected miraculously, and Louis freezes in place. He was prepared to face the asshole Harry. He was prepared to meet a whole new Harry.

Louis is not prepared to meet one of the old incarnations of Harry, and it absolutely tears him up.

Or the fic where Harry spirals out of control, the band breaks up, and then he shows back up, five years later.

Mine Would Be You by crinkle-eyed-boo / @crinkle-eyed-boo (114k)

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn’t intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

Tired Tired Sea by mediawhore / @mediawhorefics (113k)

As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

Babydoll Blues by devilinmybrain / @thedevilinmybrain (111k)

Louis is a high profile, filthy rich label executive who has the world at his feet - a music god.. Harry is the sugar baby trying to make a name for himself singing in shady bars and hanging off the arm of Louis' biggest rival. What Louis wants, Louis gets. But what if the game gets too hot and hits a little too close to the heart?

Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose by certainsadness (103k)

“There’s something so great about watching you interact with art,” Harry said quietly. “Like, when you were giving the tour, you were just so you, and so happy and excited and funny and engrossing. But then when you’re looking at the art, when it’s, like, just for you, you get so quiet and observant.” He pressed a kiss to Louis’s shoulder. “But you still seem so you, and so happy. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you as happy as you’ve been tonight.” He kissed his shoulder again. “As you are right now.” A shiver went up Louis’s back. “I’m happy when I’m with you,” he said.

Or, Louis loved art and Harry was a masterpiece.

Emperor's New Clothes by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships (92K)

The fact that Louis’s most precious belonging was a cat with a face like thunder and an uncanny ability to cover every single inch of Louis’s clothing with cat hair was something that Louis chose not to think about too much.

or: Harry’s a pop star and Louis isn’t, and there’s a non-disclosure agreement where there used to be a relationship.

Behavioural Ecology by turtlekz / @turtlekz (81k)

Louis Tomlinson is a primatologist working with the Jane Goodall Institute for primate conservation; and Harry Styles is the photojournalist sent from National Geographic to write a piece promoting awareness about the endangered species. They meet, and love is never, ever simple, as we know.

Featuring Eli the chimpanzee, bickering humans, storytelling, and five men who come to gain an understanding of what it means to be human; all stationed in the Republic of the Congo.

Do Not Go Gentle by afirethatcannotdie / @afirethatcannotdie (70k)

“This is all a game to you, isn’t it? Well, it’s not for me. This is a real life or death situation,” Louis says, spitting the words at him. “And I just don’t think you’re cut out for it.”

For a moment, they stare at each other in complete silence. Harry can feel his blood thrumming between his ears, can see Louis glaring at him, feels red-hot anger. And then all he feels, oppressively and desperately, is lust.

Suddenly Louis is surging up to him to press his lips against Harry’s. Harry walks the two of them backwards, pressing Louis back against the door. Louis oomphs in surprise and brings his hands under Harry’s scrub top, scratching at his lower back.

“Lock — oh — lock the… fucking door,” Louis mutters.

When Harry Styles starts his first day as a surgical intern, he expects a lot of things: to treat patients, to observe a surgery, to feel a bit overwhelmed. What he definitely doesn't expect, however, is that the handsome guy he kicked out of his bed this morning is also an intern.

A Grey’s Anatomy AU where tensions are high, Harry and Louis are hooking up in secret, and no one has time for love. Or do they?

To the Ends of the Earth by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci (68k)

During a yearlong hiatus, Louis visits Harry at his cabin in Idaho, where long-buried feelings ignite like the fire keeping them warm.

A Yuzu Grows in Brooklyn by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci (66k)

Harry is a recent implant in new york and a young chef opening a restaurant called yuzu. louis, a music teacher and broadway lover, has been around the block for a while. in a city that's so fast-paced, they're slow to catch on to each other.

The Dark and the Dentist by sunshiner / @theprizeofcoolness (66k)

“I know this song,” Louis whispers, and Harry has to lean his ear toward him to pick up what he’s saying. “It was written for people to dance to it. We should be dancing.” We can’t, Harry almost spits, but it’d be stupid of him. Louis knows they can’t. Even if he looks like any regular Parisian in their twenties, and Harry looks like any hipster Parisian in their twenties, they can’t anyway. To be fair, they probably wouldn’t do it even if they were out. But if they were two uni students, both in Paris for an exchange, meeting over fallen books at the library, or because of mutual friends, or watching Monet’s Water Lilies? “How would we dance?” Harry murmurs, mouth almost pressed to Louis’ cheek, so close he can feel his warmth. What a picture they must make, two millionaires freezing in a park and dreaming of a different life.

An account of the events of November 2014. Canon-compliant.

Time Passed by coffinofachimera (66k)

Louis struggles with their relationship as Harry grows into his identity.

Outwit, Outplay, Outlast by dancesongsoul, lookatyourchoices (60k)

“Tommo and Harry are gonna do it. I don’t know when, but they’re gonna do it. They’ve got the mattress, the pillows, everything’s in place, and they’re gonna do it. I really wish those two the best of luck.” –Taylor Swift, "Chapera"

Or a Survivor All-Stars AU in which Harry and Louis are just in this game to win the million dollars, but they end up with something better.

Featuring Harry's yellow swim shorts, Louis in snapbacks, and OT5 shenanigans.

No One Does It Better by nodibs (49k)

Harry’s an alcoholic and Louis is a bartender. The first time they meet isn’t the first time they’ve met.

Sail Away With Me by star_henderson / @star-henderson (47k)

“It’s inhumane putting four blokes in one cabin.” Louis stripped off and climbed up into his top bunk. “And why did we get the smelliest twat on the whole ship and bore of the century?”

Harry shrugged. “We clearly pissed someone off along the way.”

Louis snorted softly. “Who do I have to bend over for to get us an upgrade?”

Harry barked out a laugh. “If only it were that simple.” He rolled his eyes wistfully at Louis.

“The only way I’m going to get a two berth is to throw Payno overboard and be next in line for the deputy cruise director's job.” Louis leaned up on one elbow to look over at Harry. “Would you help me weigh his body down so I don’t go to jail?”

“Only If I can share your cabin.” Harry shuffled about, tucking the duvet between his legs, sweeping his hair up into a bun and securing it in a band. “I’m not being an accessory to murder and then still having to share with them two, no fucking way.”

Louis and Harry are part of the entertainment team on board a luxury cruise liner. They hate sharing their four berth cabin with two other guys and would do anything to get a cabin of their own. One drunken night the solution was simple. They'd just get married...

Be My Little Good Luck Charm by 100percentsassy (34k)

In which Harry is a promising amateur golfer making his debut at the PGA Championship, and Louis is a Sky Sports anchor who would really rather be commentating on footie.

The other boys are around too: caddy!Niall provides victory pints, Liam is Louis's Very Serious co-anchor, and poor Zayn just gets his face drawn on.

Have You Coming Back Again by whoknows (31k)

It’s five o’clock in the morning. Louis has a lecture at half eight. He could be using this time to study or to do his readings or to go to the gym, but - well. He doesn’t have any exams coming up, he’s not going to his seminar today anyway and he hates the gym.

Instead he’s using this time to fuck with Harry Styles’ poor little brain.

Louis jogs across the street and jabs the key into the car door. It opens easily, not that he was expecting anything else. He copied the key for a reason, after all.

He’s got Harry’s schedule memorized, more because the guy keeps following him around than anything, so he doesn’t bother looking around before climbing behind the wheel and setting his bag on the passenger seat. It’s a Monday, which means that Harry doesn’t even get out of bed before noon unless he’s planning on harassing Louis.

Loved By Your Mother by superglass / @gaymoustache (31k)

Harry stretches out like Venus with her lover, growing sleepy in the late afternoon light with a baby growing inside her. Perhaps not literally, not physically. Not exactly.

Harry struggles to come to terms with wanting to have children, and what that means for their relationship. Canon compliant, set a few years into the future

#read #favorite fics #ficrec #larry fic rec #hlcreators #1dficvillage

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grandlinedreams · 6 months

Note

i love your law writing sm!!!

may i request for a law x reader where reader gets turned into a doll in dressrosa🫣

OUGH ANON YOUR MIND but also I hope that I can do this justice for you!!

[Heads up!: Dressrosa spoilers, devil fruit effects (Sugar's), hefty dose of angst, Strawhat!reader, some comfort at the end!]

This is bad.

The sound of hard plastic over stone resounds through the air, a lone doll darting down the road, glass eyes fixed on the extension of string across the sky like a bird cage. Exactly like a bird cage.

You're fully aware that the situation has continously gone from bad, to worse, to steadily worsening ㅡ a domino effect that you're not sure how to solve.

Especially when you've been turned into a doll. Knobby ball joints allow you more freedom of motion, but your footsteps still stagger on the occasional odd step, unaccustomed to being so small. And made of plastic.

Damn that kid, you think, recalling your unfortunate encounter with the small green haired girl. She'd been crying, leading you to believe that she'd been looking for her parents in the chaos ㅡ and then she'd touched you, turning you into a doll.

"You're with the Strawhats," she'd told you evenly. "Serves you right."

Thankfully you'd taken off before she could continue, and you've yet to spot her giving chase. Now you're desperate to find whatever crewmates you can, to tell them what's happened to you ㅡ and if it can be fixed.

Zoro is the one you come across first, though he doesn't spare you a glance as he darts past you.

"Zoro, wait!" You take off after him, ball-jointed fingers reaching to snag into his pant leg. "It's me, Iㅡ"

"Get off me, I don't have time for this!" It's hardly a kick, but it still sends you flying, the hard click of plastic as you skitter across the cobblestone.

Despite your body being made of something inorganic, it hurts ㅡ and you stare at Zoro's retreating figure.

Had he not recognized you?

Picking yourself up, you stumble towards a fountain, hands flat against the rim as you peer into it. Glass eyes stare back at you in the same color as your own, the same shade and length of hair ㅡ and a deep crack in your cheek that spider webs out. No doubt from the impact moments before ㅡ and you touch it.

Surely if he'd known, Zoro wouldn't have done it. And he seemed like he was in a hurry ㅡ so you can't fault him. Resolve renewed, you pull away.

You need to find the others.

ㅡ

None of them recognize you. Not a single one of your crewmates seem to remember that you belong with them ㅡ undoubtedly an effect of Sugar's ability.

Regardless, it still hurts ㅡ that your presence has been completely wiped clean, reduced to nothing but plastic limbs and a hollow body.

What if you're stuck like this forever? If the rest of this is true, the other toy citizens of Dressrosa have been like this for years ㅡ how many of them have families? Children? Loved ones ㅡ are they toys too, or they people still?

If you could cry, you would.

Perhaps this is best. That they forget you completely, leave you here ㅡ being a doll can't possibly be so bad, can it?

You shake your head, hating the click of the movement as you bury your face in your hands. You don't want to be a doll anymore.

You want to be remembered.

ㅡ

"Still awake?"

Law's voice makes you turn from where you're seated in the kitchen of Kyros' house, staring out the window at the night sky.

"Can't sleep," you admit, studying the cup of tea you've let grow cold. "I don't think I did much to help, so I shouldn't be tired anyways."

Law blinks, lets his gaze drift over your face, stopping at the bandage carefully taped to your cheek. "What happened?"

"Huh?" He nods to your cherk, and your fingers brush the bandage. "Oh...I got turned into a doll and had a mishap."

You'd already recieved an apology from Zoro, and from the others for them forgetting your existence ㅡ and while it helps to know that they'd never truly do that to you, the dark thoughts still linger.

"You should be resting," you say, staring at the wrap of white bandage around Law's arm. "You almost lost an arm, that's way more serious."

Law gives a vague shrug. "You look like there's something on your mind."

You watch as he takes a seat across from you, and you sigh. You like Law, have found it easy to grow accustomed to him and his ever thinning patience with your crewmates' antics ㅡ and feel genuine relief that he's going to be fine despite his injuries from Doflamingo.

"You don't have to talk if you don't want to," Law prompts softly, "but I don't mind keeping you company, either."

"That's kind of you," you answer, offering a small smile that quickly dims as you stare at your hands ㅡ hands that just a handful of hours ago, had been made of plastic. "I just...when no one remembered who I was, I thought abiut what would happen if I stayed like that and it's still sticking with me, I think."

Law watches you curl in on yourself, made smaller for the slump of your shoulders, the shimmer to your eyes that promises tears you fight hard not to let fall.

"If they'd be better off without me..."

"They wouldn't." Law's voice is crisp and cool, and you look up to find him staring at you. "Strawhat is a lot of things, but someone to regret the people he surrounds himself with isn't one of them. You're part of his crew for a reason." He pauses. "I'm also fairly certain you're one of the only ones capable of listening and following a plan."

It's a roundabout, awkward way of comforting you that feels entirely on par with who Law is, and you blink before a weak smile tugs at your lips. "I appreciate that. Thank-you, Law."

"You're welcome." He watches you silently before a smirk tugs at his his lips as he adds, "And besides, if Strawhat doesn't need you, I could always use someone like you on my crew."

#ㅡmine.#one piece scenario #one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #anonymous #ㅡanswered.

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rs-hawk · 4 months

Note

I feel like FtM monsters are pretty rare, even in the admitely niche context of trans monsters

I love FtM monsters. My favorite FtM piece I’ve done is this piece about an Orc Husband! I’ve only done a handful here but I’ll definitely be doing more, including this post.

Átahsaiais

You had grown up hearing the stories about the cannibalistic demon who lived in the mountains. A giant as tall as three men, with the strength of ten. He would snatch you up and eat you, cooking you into a stew and using your bones as tooth picks. The stories made you shudder, but they never stopped you from exploring.

You decided to go hiking in those mountains, and a long hike turned into an overnight camping trip, where you took refuge in a cave. You giggled to yourself as you thought about how the stories talked about a young woman getting trapped in a cave and having to rely on a God to save her from Átahsaiais. As the memories of the way the stories sounded coming from your grandmother’s lips filled your head, you drifted off to sleep.

When you were woken up, it was still dark out, but there was a sort of pounding sound coming from outside. It sounded like foot steps. Suddenly, you were glad you had forgotten a flashlight. Crawling on your belly, trying to be quiet and remain out of sight, you approached the mouth of the cave. Just outside, you saw a monstrous sight.

A creature that was so tall that it was blocking much of the moonlight. Gray, stringy hair that fell in thick ropes down his knobby and cracked skin. You swallowed back a stunned cry as his head turned, catching you in his line of vision.

You were frozen in place, and while you knew if you scooted back you would be out of his reach, you couldn’t move. Átahsaiais. A true monster amongst monsters.

With a large hand, he swiftly pulled you out of the cave, his breath making you cringe and he brought you up to his face. “Human,” he said in a growl that send shivers down your spine. “Woman. Why are you here?”

You swallowed hard before babbling about your hike. How you stayed out too late. Started it too late in the day. You just wanted to get some sleep before going home. Fat tears rolled down your face as you choke back sobs and he just… laughed. He set you down, your knees trembling so badly you almost fall.

“You will be caught by much worse than me if you stay out here,” he said, his voice rough like the way boulders sound when they start to fall.

You were unsure, but the sound of a howl ripping through the air made you jump closer to him. He chuckled as he curled a large hand, nearly the size of your entire body, around your torso to guide you. Soon enough you’re in his home, now a warm and well lived in cottage. You expected something more… terrifying.

He sat you down, pushing a cup of hot water into your hands before he disappeared behind a curtain of beads, seashells, and gemstones. He grumbled out a good night and told you to sleep wherever you like out there as the swinging curtain slowed. You felt relieved but also oddly disappointed. He was supposed to be a man eating monster and, what? He saved you from wolves, brought you to his home, and then decided to go to bed and offered you to sleep as well?

After a little while, with the fire dying down, you decided to at least sneak a peek at what his room is like. You imagined it being decorated with the bones of his victims and enemies, but it wasn’t. Instead, where you expected skulls and bones, there were vines that hung from the ceiling, with blooming flowers. A small hole in the wall, functioning as a window, had a bird’s nest tucked away in it.

You couldn’t decide how you felt as you slipped deeper into the room. The sounds you heard as you did you attributed to the small hole once you saw it, until you saw Átahsaiais on his bed. Two of his large, rough fingers were pushing in and out of his dripping cunt as his other hand teased and played with his t-dick.

Your mouth watered as you watched the way his chest heaved, his thick, gray, porcupine quill like hair splayed around his head- his eyes clenched shut with his mouth slightly open. Of their own accord, your feet took you to his bed. That was when you hesitated, but a sharp intake of breath from him told you he was close, and you wanted to help so badly that you couldn’t explain it.

You crawled between his legs, finally admitting your presence to him. His fingers and hand faltered for a moment before you fixed your mouth around the tip of his t-dick, struggling a bit with how much thicker it is than a regular human cock.

“Little Human,” he grunted slightly, his hand twitching at the base of his t-dick before he slid it to the back of your head, encouraging you to take more of it down your throat.

When he came, you couldn’t help but moan in excitement. It felt so good to know you’d helped him. A wet spot had formed between your own legs, which clearly hadn’t gone unnoticed by him. In seconds, he had you pinned to his bed made of feathers and animal hides, his hands easily ripping off your pants before his fat tongue eases inside of you.

You see stars. His tongue itself was bigger a than a human’s cock, and the way he coaxed orgasm out of orgasm out of you made you realize why he was called a man eater.

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dross-the-fish · 5 days

Text

A Spider's Touch

the train wound through the countryside carrying two young men bound for university. One a large, handsome, fair-haired Scottsman who's clothes were of fine cut and who's hair was styled in a fashionable cut and the other a slight dark-haired Englishman in dusty hand-me-downs, who had yet to outgrow the unfortunate stage of early manhood that left him with the bare wisps of a thin mustache and sideburns that would only sprout in patches along the side of a jaw still rounded with boyishness.

The two were clearly friends, they sat side by side and chatted easily and the larger of them was confident and relaxed, one arm propped over the back of the seat with his legs sprawled out in front of him. A dog eared magazine dangled loosely from his hand.

"You think old Hastie will be with us again this year?" he asked his smaller, darker companion.

"I hope so, it'll be nice to see him and with the three of us we could afford to rent a flat off campus. We're not even there and I'm already sick of the thought of living in the dormitories. Are you going to behave yourself this year, Harry?"

"I told you I would, didn't I, Utterson?" there was a faint touch of irritation. Don't nag me

"Of course, but one likes to be reassured," came the cool reply. Don't give me reasons to

They chatted awhile longer until Utterson began to nod off, his head falling to window. Henry Jekyll watched him, took note of a hand falling onto a knobby knee. It was not a lovely hand, in fact he was sure it would be quite ugly when its owner grew older. Bony fingers with prominent knuckles, dry skin around blunt, short nails that had been chewed to the quick and a thick vein that ran from the knuckle of the index finger diagonally towards a sharp wrist. When Gabriel Utterson grew old Henry was sure it would be skeletal and clammy, dotted with liver spots. Not a lovely hand…but a fascinating one, and one he couldn't stop gazing at.

Impulsively Henry's own hand reached out, traced that vein with a long elegant finger in a slow and deliberate stroke.

Utterson gave a twitch and his eyelids fluttered. Henry jerked back and made a quick show of being absorbed in his magazine. Utterson's brown knit, he grimaced rubbing his hand and looking about the cabin.

"Something wrong?" Henry asked coolly.

"I think something crawled across my hand."

"I think I saw a spider in here earlier," Henry lied.

"Disgusting, I hate those things," Gabriel shuddered rubbing a little harder as though trying to rid himself of the repugnant touch and the gesture made Henry's heart drop.

Disgusting

Loathsome…that's what you are

Don't touch me

the ugly voice in his head rasped and he felt a shameful heat rise to his cheeks. He held the magazine higher, hiding his face and he gave Utterson a hum of acknowledgement.

Gabriel Utterson would never understand why Henry Jekyll had remained so silent for the rest of the trip and he would be too busy looking anxiously for the invisible spider that had touched him to care.

…..

40 years later

…..

Gnarled, arthritic and covered in liver spots. the vein more prominent than ever.

Edward watched as those wasted skeletal hands gripped the top of a cane while Utterson stared at the abandoned townhouse once belonging to Henry Jekyll.

His hair had gone completely grey, and his mustache and sideburns had come in thick and full now on the wasted husk of a face.

When Utterson finally had his fill of grieving and walked away he passed very close by the alley where Edward hid, observing from the shadows. He stopped, as though sensing a presence and Edward went very still. The cane tilted as the weight of his hand leaned it forward, dark eyes squinting under heavy white brows scanning the darkness before him for signs of life.

he was so close…

Impulsively Edward reached out and brushed a finger along the vein of that hand with a touch that trembled and barely dared make contact.

Utterson started and dropped the cane with a clatter, shaking his hand as though trying to fling away the unwelcome crawl of a spider on his skin. He cursed. Picked up his cane and before he could rise to get a better look Edward had already disappeared.

#Drabbles #Jekyll and Hyde #Edward Hyde #Gabriel Utterson #Henry Jekyll #the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde

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bucknastysbabe · 1 year

Note

Can I have one where Aegon has married his new wife who he thinks is really uptight and a prude only when it gets to the bedding ceremony (no one watching) and it turns out she’s just as kinky if not kinkier than him which makes him like fall for her instantly. She’s the definition of angel in the streets but freak in the sheets. Can it maybe also end with aegon either now realising he loves her or telling her he loves her

So I reused me Celtigar uptight reader bc I love her. Also slipped some small dick truthing in there. Hope you enjoy!

Continued from

Crab in the sand, conquer a man - Celtigar 101

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Misogyny, asshole Aegon, horrid bedding ceremonies, Aegon has a lil wee wee, creampie, pnv!sex, premature ejac, Celtigar said: when in doubt, be a bitch! Confessions of love

After what seemed like a breakthrough with you and Aegon it promptly turned back into the mummer’s farce. Whoring, drinking, the usual. The wedding was upon you. Today. Surrounded by tittering handmaidens, dreamy Helaena, and the watchful eye of Queen Alicent above all.

You sipped on your wine, contemplating the last few moons. After the dolt had crawled to your knees and begged for forgiveness— even admitted deep seeded insecurities, he went back to carousing the Street of Silk. You about sailed back to Claw Isle when you’d overheard some squire boys.

“Prince Aegon says she’s like to have pinchers in her cunny!”

The other one snorted, “I wouldn’t doubt it, face all screwed up around the keep. Probably hurts the poor wench.”

You blinked back into reality when one of the handmaidens told you not to crack your chalice. Indeed, your bejeweled hand was strained with pressure. You apologized, “Sorry, nerves tis’ all.” The ladies got back in their usual tizzy. They didn’t have to marry a lecherous lackwit.

Your dress was gorgeous though. You felt pretty. Finally after years of knobby knees and bee stings for tits your Rosby side kicked in. Curves, huzzah! Which didn’t draw anything but a drunken grope and sleazy comment from Aegon.

You’d written to your grandfather multitudes of times to no avail. He told you to be a good Celtigar and wait to feed. Hmph.

The dress though, the dress was much better than this horrid day. It was a coarse silk from Essos, the sleeves were loose and dyed a brilliant scarlet. The neckline was of the same color and jewels. Your locks were braided up into a net with the same gems. The maiden cloak hung like a dragon in the corner; gorgeous but dangerous.

It represented the true loss of your body, that one untouched place given up to an idiot. Abruptly standing up you stalked to the cloak. You held back tears while petting the ermine, tracing the sigil of Celtigar, fingering the rubies. Taking a deep breath in you returned to the chair for further treatment.

Standing in the grand throne room had your knees weak. You could see your family proud up in the front, all smiles from Bartimos. You kept your head down, eyes plastered to Aegon’s neckline. He stood stiffly, surprisingly not drunk for the wedding. The septon murmured some things, you both repeated them, then Aegon moved.

You swallowed down the panic as Your father stepped in to remove your maiden’s cloak. The lack of weight made you feel naked for all to see. The fight to hold back tears began again. Aegon moved behind your shaking frame next. On came the heavier Targaryen cloak, scarlet wool and black fur, even dragon’s scales embedded into their sigil.

“With this kiss I pledge my love…,”

Aegon’s hands were wildly trembling as he cupped your face. The kiss was chaste, only a slight movement of dry lips. They separated to share a weighted look. The septon cheered, “One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever!”

The crowd lit into a frenzy, cheering and calling for the festivities. Aegon turned his violet eyes on you, a quirk of his lips and a squeeze of your hand to indicate he wasn’t truly miserable. You smiled back and let him lead you to the feast.

The pair of you were seated at the head of the table, even the King and Queen at the side. Rhaenyra looked dismissive and Daemon was laughing about something with Viserys. Aemond looked downright jolly— a scary sight. Aegon had shoved meager food down his throat, slamming back the Arbor Red.

Viserys made some announcements and good tidings before allowing you two to begin the dance. Aegon and you once again were face to face, posed for the first notes. You scoffed, “If you get drunk enough then maybe you won’t feel my pinchers, lord husband.” Step back, hold out arms, palm to palm.

He sputtered indignantly, “Where did you hear that?”

Spin closer, one, two.

“You’re not even going to deny it?”

Step back, palms out, side, side, step in.

He grinned, “I’m sure you’ll be fine and dandy for the bedding ceremony.”

Spin away to the next. You called over your shoulder, “I’m sure you’ll be able to get it up my Prince!” He coughed, pale face going blotchy.

Aemond’s smirking face looked down at you while he led you two in the line. He hummed, “Brother dear is going to soil himself he’s so beside about the bedding nonsense.”

You laughed, “They don’t watch that part Aemond.”

He enigmatically replied, “I believe that’s the issue, Celtigar.”

The next hours were spent dancing, drinking, and catching up with the Celtigars. Which was a highlight so far. You missed your family dearly. Even if you held a grudge for your grandfather. It passed when he warbled, “My beautiful girl, a princess.” He hugged you tightly before the bellow of some drunken lord echoed.

“TIME TO GET THE GIRL BEDDED!”

“PRINCE AEGON FINALLY FUCKS A LADY!”

A ribald song erupted from the crowd. You clung to Bartimos in fear but was torn away, watching his liver spotted hands disappear from sight. Between the yells of the men, you could hear the ladies coo at Aegon’s raucous laughter. Big hands tore at your nice dress, exposing your teats and belly.

Aegon snorted, “She’s going to be in for a surprise! Riding the dragon!”

The men hauling you had your dress ripped to shreds before depositing you onto the grand bed. Aegon was shoved in after. Even with the deafening noise outside the room felt empty. The prince was naked too, an embarrassed flush suffusing his pale skin. You had pulled up some covers.

“How romantic. Come on then,” you beckoned.

Remaining quiet Aegon crawled onto the bed, pink cock half-hard. He stopped, only a clammy palm around your wrist. Nervous eyes searched your own, the Prince biting his plump lips. You narrowed your eyes and hissed, “You fuck all of King’s Landing, probably going to infect me with a pox, and just stare like a cow now? Gods above Aegon!”

He pouted and crossed his arms. The brat muttered, “This is different!” Exasperated you threw your hands up, “How is this different?”

“Because I like you.”

“What? Speak idiot!,” you barked.

“Because I care for you Crab!,” he shouted back, face going more red.

You blinked at him. Then pondered the situation. Frankly his idiocy made you want to slap the brat around. Wait. Slapping Aegon around sounded splendid. So very splendid your loins began to ache. As any experienced woman would, you snatched your new husband by the hair and yanked forward.

Aegon landed between your legs with a high yelp, eyes going comically wide. He whined, “What the hell?” You shoved down the blanket separating you two and spread your legs. Aegon groaned at the sight of your tits and puffy cunt. Grabbing his plump cheeks you asked, “Do I please you? Does that look like fucking pincers to you?”

He nodded miserably, lips smushed from your iron grip. You sighed at the feeling of his cock twitching against your entrance. Taking your own gander you wrapped an inquisitive hand around his stiff flesh, giving a couple of pumps.

“It can’t be this small can it?,” you blurted.

Aegon shouted into your tits, palms groping roughly, “THASWHAIWASAFRAIDOF!”

You grinned slowly, still jerking his cute little cock. You purred, “Poor little prince’s cocklet. Don’t worry, I know you’ll please me won’t you?

Tears soaked your collarbone as he rasped, “Yesss- promise.” You snickered again at the entire situation, seizing up those pretty lips of his.

He whimpered into your wet mouth, eyes red and watery, “C-can I fuck you princess? M’sorry it’s small.” Poor baby seemed genuinely sad about his situation. You cooed, scratching sweaty white locks, “Be a nice boy like you promised and I’ll let you fuck me alll the time my prince.”

He beamed, head nodding jerkily, “M’please I’ll be so so so good, lemme fuck you sweets pleaaase!”

You cracked the flat of your palm on his flank and teased, “Get to it then. Doubt it’ll hurt.” With a broken noise, Aegon slid into your perfect slick cunt. He tightened his hold on you, gritting through the pleasure. You lied meanly, pussy wetter than ever, “Poor baby, I can’t even feel it.”Aegon furrowed his brow and tried about three angry pumps before splattering your cunt with seed. He wailed, face screwed up, “Ah- ahhh-Ah Love you! Oh my gods I love you- feel so good- oh gods fuck!”

Aegon was shivering head to toe, babbling about his love for you. That made you ache in more than one place. You pressed little kisses to his drooling lips and red cheeks, savoring the moment. He collapsed into a sweaty heap on top of you, panting.

“I think I love you too. Once you get your empty head down between my thighs and clean up your mess, puppy.”

#aegon ii targaryen #hotd fanfic #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #hotd smut #sub!aegon #celtigar!reader #humor n smut m

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hyunsvngs · 7 months

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I JUST WANT CHAN TO FREAKING HAVE THE MOST MESSIEST DIRTY SLOPPY I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT SEX WITH YOU GOD...LIKE HES MAKING YOU SQUIRT AND COME SO MANY TIMES ONLY ON HIS FINGRERS AND LIKE HIS SPIT IS EVERYWHERE AND HE JUST KEEPS GOING AND HES NOT STOPPING AHHAHDHHDID

I THINK CHAN WOULD BE INTO MESSY SEX FOR SOME REASON?! AND YOUR JUST ON THE BED COMPLETELY FUCKED OUT IN SUCH A SUB SPACE HAND OVER YOUR EYES BECAUSE OF THE TEARS OF OVERSTIMULATION BUT HE JUST KEEPS GOING...

(100% CAME IN HIS PANTS LIKE TWICE)

WHAT DO YOU THINK HE WOULD SAY DURING THIS?! IM JUST DEAD AND HORNY...

-shy anon!

i have said this before but bang chan is SOOOOO wet sloppy backshots to the neighbourhood typa fuckin yk.

he'd love to have you on his bed, soaking the sheets over and over on his knobby fingers, spitting down onto your pussy just to make it even messier... pushing his dick in and spitting on his thumb before rubbing it over his clit and god, it'd be so wet. everything would be frothing out all over his cock soaking his pubes and you'd be so loud. "that's it baby, so fuckin' wet, feels so good," he'd huff, mouthing over your neck. "tight, drippy fucking hole. oh god." like he cannot HANDLE IT oh boyyy and you're just looking up at him with bleary eyes, whining completely nonverbal!! OH

♡ juno

#juno’s asks ♡#shy anon 💌#asks: channie

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onboardsorasora · 15 days

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ahh i love your deaged daniel series!

do max and daniel ever have a get together or play date with sebastian and/or jenson's families? just to give daniel a chance to play with kids his own age and get some energy out

but maybe he's also shy at first and scared to talk to all the new people!

been kinda offline all day, but i had this in the drafts

De-Aged Daniel | De-Aged Daniel Part 11

Max didn’t realize how many drivers had kids. It wasn’t something he went around asking honestly and it also wasn’t any of his business. But after the twitch fiasco, he’d been added to no less than three driver dad group chats.

He’d tried to explain in each one that he wasn’t a father, but Daniel had exchanged bodies. And that, itself caused a whole different level of chaos.

This is how he found himself and Little Daniel walking into a park looking dubiously at the group of men chatting in a circle while their children ran around them.

“Max! You made it!” Seb’s grin was wide as Max settled near to them.

“Well, it's within walking distance of my flat so…” Max shrugged. Little Daniel looked at everyone with wide eyes before shyly tucking his face into Max’s neck.

“Daniel, these are some friends of ours. Do you want to say hi?” Max asked softly.

“Hi…” Daniel whispered into Max’s neck, clutching at his tshirt strongly so Max didn’t get the idea to put him down. He hadn’t been allowed to carry the Max pillow and Daniel had made his objections known with big, watery honey eyes and a wobbly bottom lip. Max had bargained that he could wear his race suit instead and that had soothed the savage badger.

“I forgot how shy he used to be. You’d never know now.” Seb mused, Jenson nodded along, clearly remembering how awkward the knobby kneed young Aussie used to be in the paddock.

“Kid was fast though.” Nico pointed out which caused the older drivers to nod again, clearly remembering.

“You hear that Daniel, you were the fastest.” Max said, gaining Little Daniel’s attention. The boy looked at him curiously, tilting his head when Max nodded to the men. “This is Seb, Nico and Jenson. You raced against them and won.”

“Yenshen.” Daniel repeated, looking curiously at the men and biting his fingers. His mouth dropped open when he looked at Seb, as if in recognition.

“Hello old friend. Remember how we stopped biting our fingers?” Seb said softly, reaching to pluck Little Daniel’s fingers from his mouth. Daniel let him, staring into Seb’s bright blue eyes in wonder.

“Do we think he’ll spring back up to normal or will it be another exchange?” Nico asked while Seb kept Little Daniel busy.

“I’m not sure. Grace thinks he’ll exchange his way up.” Max offered with a slight shrug, being careful not to jostle.

“She must remember then.” Seb murmured, fluffing Little Daniel’s hair.

“Seb!” Little Daniel cried out, grabbing at the older man’s palm to keep it from his hair.

“You said he did this before, right?” Jenson asked, grabbing his own son and swinging him on his hip. Little Daniel’s attention latched onto the other boy.

“Yeah, he got overwhelmed after Canada in ‘14. It never lasted this long though.”

Jenson put his son down after his wiggling got too wild and Little Daniel started tapping Max’s shoulder with his ring finger until the older man got the hint. The three drivers watched as Little Daniel clutched at Max’s shirt hem for a second before walking off to the playground with the other kids.

Later that afternoon, it took all of their efforts to corral all the children who had started a game of tag just as the decision to go home had been made. Little Daniel kept running towards Max then away when Max reached down to grab him, laughing his honking giggle and screaming that he was faster. Jenson was able to distract him enough for Max to scoop him up, tickling his belly. They laughed as he squirmed breathlessly.

Little Daniel kept up a running commentary on the walk home, chattering away and telling Max about what he did and how much fun he had. He started flagging once they got to their building and Max was barely able to get him showered, and fed before he was snoozing on the couch. Max smiled at his soft face, slack in sleep. He laid on his stomach, clutching his Max pillow in one hand and hanging the other off the side of the comfortable cushion.

#maxiel #max/daniel #de aged daniel

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bakedbakermom · 5 months

Text

Takeout Interruptus (read on ao3) fluff and humor // T // 1k words tagging @today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr

A makeout session is interrupted by an over-enthusiastic delivery boy who just can't take a hint. (Note: "OK Chinese Restaurant" is a real place in the SF Bay Area, so I hope you will forgive me for the name. I always wanted to open another place across the street called "Good Chinese Restaurant.")

Scully’s tongue thrusts hot and wet into his mouth, her hands tangled in his hair. She gasps as his fingers slip under the hem of her shirt to begin a teasing journey up the sweet plains of her stomach, inching higher and higher... when a loud knock sounds at Mulder’s door. “Sorry,” he murmurs against her lips. “Forgot I ordered food.”

She whines when he pulls away, though her stomach is rumbling. “Hurry back, G-Man.”

He smiles over his shoulder as he grabs his wallet and opens the door, revealing a gangly teenager with bright red hair, a smattering of acne, and an anemic little caterpillar of a mustache valiantly attempting to crown his upper lip. In his hands are two bulging bags of takeout, their stylized font proudly proclaiming them the product of Mr. Fung’s OK Chinese Restaurant (Ask About Two-for-One Tuesday Special!).

“Hey, Zack, how’s it going?”

“Good, Mr. Mulder, thanks. That’ll be $27.50.” He holds the bags up for emphasis and Mulder thumbs through his wallet. “Hey, so, you were right about that book you told me about, the one with the yetis? Susie thought it was really cool and now I think maybe she thinks I might be really cool and so I was just wondering if you had any, like, recommendations for more? Because, like, I’m not great with girls, and she’s so pretty and so smart and she smells, like, so good and I just don’t want to blow it, like—“

Mulder pulls out a few worn bills with an unnecessary flourish, waving them right under the boy’s nose, and Zack’s motor mouth dies abruptly. “Next time, okay? Keep the change.”

Oblivious, the young man bumbles on. “Come on, man, it’s just that I’m, like, really nervous? I’m supposed to meet up with her after my shift tonight and she was like, ‘it’s no big deal’ but, like, it’s a super big deal and you’re always so, like, suave and stuff I just thought maybe—”

“Zack,” Mulder says with emphasis, though not without kindness. “I’m a little busy tonight.”

The boy peers around his shoulder into the living room. “Oh hey, Ms. Scully.” She smiles indulgently and wiggles her fingers at him in a small wave. “You guys got some cool new case going on? Oh is it gross? Susie loves when I talk about the gross ones, that Flukeman thing had her fascinated for days so maybe you could just, like, give me a few details and I could like—”

He is inching closer to the door and Mulder sticks a hand out to grab the frame, his forearm forming a barricade before the boy can cross the threshold. “Not exactly, Zack.” Scully can’t see his face, but she can hear in his voice the wide eyes, the raised brows, the way his mouth presses into a thin line as he silently begs the boy to take the damn hint (and the money) and go.

Zack peeks around him again, slower this time, and his eyes widen along with his grin. His gaze flicks back and forth as he takes in Scully’s pinked cheeks, Mulder’s disheveled hair, the coffee table with a pair of near-empty wine glasses and no casefiles in sight. “Oh man! Oh, oh wow. Is this—? Are you—? Oh man!” He gives Mulder a bony but encouraging punch on the shoulder, thumping him in the gut with the takeout bag in the process. “Yeah, sorry, yeah, no, you got it, Mr. Mulder, I’m outta here, say no more, I’ll just, yeah, okay uh—”

He bolts all of three steps before realizing he forgot something, and nearly drops it all as he tries to hand Mulder both bags and take the money at the same time, with only two knobby arms to handle the job. One more glance into the living room, his smile so big it looks painful and shows off an impressively shiny array of orthodontics. “Yeah, okay, bye guys, have a good night, I mean, uh, I’ll just—”

“Bye, Zack.”

“Right, yeah, uh, bye!” He nearly trips over his own oversized feet as he sprints down the hall, shoes squeaking all the way. Rolling his eyes, Mulder pushes the door shut—but not before they hear him whispering excitedly to himself, “Wait ‘til I tell Susie about this!” His voice cracks on the last word.

“Scully?” Mulder asks as he turns back to her. “Do you ever get the feeling that everyone in the world was just waiting for us to get together, and we were too dumb to see it?”

She rises from the couch and takes the bags, then pushes up on her toes to press her mouth fleetingly to his. “Frequently. I’m pretty sure Skinner has Barbie dolls of us and he makes them kiss when he thinks no one is watching.”

He follows her into the kitchen, grabbing plates from the shelves she can’t reach while she rummages through the drawers for clean utensils. When she turns to face him, she finds him already close enough to touch, close enough that his body heat washes over her in a wave that sends tingles from her scalp to her toes. He grabs the counter on either side of her waist, trapping her between the firm brackets of his arms. “Think that kid is gonna get lucky tonight?”

Scully smiles, hooking her fingers through his belt loops and pulling until his hips are flush with hers. She threads her hands into his hair and pulls his face down close. “The more pressing question is,” she whispers, her breath ghosting over his lips, “are you going to get lucky tonight?”

“Would it improve my chances if I started talking about yetis?”

She reaches around, squeezes his ass with both hands, and he yelps as he bucks against her. “Let’s not risk it,” she smirks into his mouth, and kisses him like she wants to swallow him whole.

The takeout goes cold on the counter, but warms up nicely for a midnight snack.

I could not get this idea out of my head. At first I wanted to make it a scene in a larger piece of smut, but ultimately decided it was too funny and needed to be shared on its own. So. Here you go. I do not know why all my fics lately are food-related.

#x files fanfic #the x files #xf fic #xf fanfic #dana scully #fox mulder #msr #xfiles #the xfiles #mulder and scully #my fic #my writing #dailytxf #takeout interruptus

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