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beskarandblasters · 2 months

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Soft Matter

Abby Anderson x F!Reader

Ways to help Palestine

Main Masterlist | Abby Anderson Masterlist

Summary: Abby wakes you up in the best way possible.

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, established relationship, somnophilia, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering, squirting, pet names (pretty girl, baby), no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

The morning sunlight peeks in through the open window. The curtains pillow in the gentle breeze but other than that everything is quiet and still. Abby rolls over on her side, propping her head up with her hand, admiring how peaceful you look. Your chest rises and falls like clockwork, lashes fanned out against your face as you sleep. The sunlight hits the high points of your face. It’s a sight pretty enough for a picture; little moments like this together after a night of tangled up sheets and intertwined limbs. A night that ended with you pressed up against her side, resting your head on her chest as she drew little circles on your skin with her fingers.

It doesn’t take long for those thoughts to settle in, though. Her hand runs along your outline, fingers stopping at the edge of your panties and fiddling with the lacy fabric. She knows what she wants and she’ll get it, even when you’re asleep. Not that you mind. She’s done this countless times before and this morning is no different.

She inches down on the bed, getting under the blanket, moving ever so carefully to be sure not to wake you up just yet. She spreads your legs apart, pushing your panties to the side as she runs her fingers along your entrance. You’re already wet, presumably from the dream you’re having. Because all of a sudden she stops in her tracks, listening carefully to the soft sounds you make. You’re moaning, the sweet sound so melodic to her ears. She’s caught between wanting to observe you for a while and see what other kinds of sounds you might make in your sleep, but she also wants to feel you coming around her fingers already.

She places two fingers in her mouth, getting them nice and slick for you before gently inserting her pointer finger inside you. She sighs at the familiar feeling as your warmth envelops her finger.

Warm. Soft. Wet. Heavenly.

She curls her finger, gently playing with you as your moans pick up. You stir in your sleep, not awake just yet but the sleepiness is slipping away. She slides her middle finger in, feeling as your walls expand to accommodate the newfound thickness.

And with that, you finally awaken with a sharp inhale followed by a gasp.

“Abby!” you breathe out, voice already high pitched from the pleasure built up. You move the blanket to expose her situated between your thighs, fingers buried in your pussy.

“Thanks. I was getting kinda hot under there,” she chuckles.

“How long have you been doing that?”

“Not that long. You were moaning in your sleep and I wanted to see how long you would do that for. But then I got impatient.”

“…I was moaning?”

“Mhm. You were, pretty girl.”

“Oh…”

“You wanna tell me what you were dreaming about, baby?”

“Uhh… it’s not too far off from this,” you say, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“I bet,” she chuckles. Her face breaks out into a smile and the sunlight hits her face perfectly, lighting up her eyes and the freckles on her face. Her nose is scrunched as she smiles at you, watching the way you pant and whine for more.

She pulls her fingers from you much to your chagrin. But it’s just to pull your panties off, tossing them on the floor. She returns her fingers inside you but this time she puts her mouth on your clit, tongue flicking around it as her other arm wraps around your thigh. She tries to keep you still but it feels too good. Your back arches off the bed and you writhe under her grasp.

Your orgasm is nearing and Abby feels it. Your walls tense up in anticipation of a release and your bedroom is filled with the wet, squelching sounds as her fingers pump in and out of you.

“Abby, I’m gonna cum,” you whine. But she doesn’t dare pull her mouth off your clit, not when you’re so close. Instead, she hums against you, sending you over the edge. One of your hands grips the sheets for purchase and the other reaches between your legs, tangling your fingers in Abby’s messy braid. She moans into you, a visceral one at that. It makes her keep going, fingers still curling against your g-spot. You wonder what she’s going for. Maybe overstimulation?

Or maybe she’s trying to get you to squirt.

“Abby?” you ask, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“Hm?” she says, tearing her face away from your cunt to look up at you. The lower half of her face is already glistening.

“Are you… Are you trying to get me to squirt?” you ask between shaky breaths as your orgasm ebbs and flows.

“I’ll change the sheets,” she says quickly, looking at you with pleading eyes.

“Go for it,” you say with a smirk, half sighing as you settle into the bed again.

“As long as you keep making those sounds for me, pretty girl,” she says before her mouth is immediately on your clit again, fingers working overtime as she builds you up again. Her eyes don’t leave you, watching the way your chest rises and falls rapidly, the way your mouth forms into a soft O, and the way your nipples perk up against your thin sleep t-shirt. You return your hand to her hair, gripping at the loose braid as you whimper and shiver.

She hums into you again, marveling at your taste and the sheer amount of wetness you’ve already produced. With one last come here motion of her fingers and flick of her tongue around her clit, you cum, harder and wetter than the last one. She succeeds in making you squirt because you feel wetness run down your thighs and pool beneath you. Stars dance in your vision, looking down as Abby laps up the wetness you just produced.

She pulls her fingers from you and hooks both arms around your thighs, keeping you flush against her face as she licks you. Your orgasm starts to subside and she finishes her morning meal, moving to rest beside you.

“Good morning,” you say, voice still breathy.

“Good morning,” she chuckles, pulling you into her chest.

Her hand fingers make swirls against your skin and after a beat of silence she says, “…Maybe we could have some more fun in the shower?”

You let out a faux sigh in annoyance before laughing and getting up out of bed. You pull off your t-shirt, playfully tossing it at her. Her jaw falls open as your chest becomes exposed.

“Fine. I’ll go turn on the water but you have to strip the bed. I’m holding you to that!” you say.

You turn on your heel and walk out of the bedroom with a sway of your hips.

You hear her scramble to her feet behind you.

“Be right there!”

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson fanfiction #abby anderson #abby anderson x f!reader #the last of us fanfiction #tlou #tlou 2

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scooprtroopr · 3 months

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9 and 28 with steve if you ever get around to it, love you bestie 🫶

Parker, thank you for being so patient with me well I worked out how I wanted this one to go. I hope you like 🖤💕🖤💕

9. Falling in and out of sleep holding each other and admiring the other while they sleep.

28. “Oh my god, your such a cuddle bug.”

It had been a long day and between hauling boxes up to your new apartment and attempting to begin unpacking you and Steve were beyond tired. Even with boxes strewn across your would be bedroom and only a mattress to lie on, the bedframe would be delivered tomorrow, you couldn’t help the swell in your chest as you looked around. Sure the walls may be bare and things you had a lot of work to do in the coming days but you and Steve finally had a home together. Thinking about this you couldn’t help the smile the crept its way onto your face as you lay in bed. Steve’s strong arms were wrapped around your waist, an empty pizza box lay at your feet, a reminder of the celebratory dinner you had shared before the exhaustion of a fully day hit you both.

You tried nudging the empty box with your foot in an attempt to gently move it from the bed. At your movement Steve’s arms tightened around your waist a tired, “where are you going?” leaving his lips.

“Nowhere love, just trying to get the pizza box off the bed, didn’t mean to wake you,” you begin to roll over in Steve’s arm so you can face him, but again your movement only leads to his grip tightening, pulling you closer into him. Finally finishing rotating in his arms you can’t help but giggle, “oh my god, you’re such a cuddle bug!”

At this Steve peeks out at you with one eye, a lazy smile on his all too perfect face before he sticks his tongue out at you. “ ‘m sorry I love you so much, you can go if my cuddles are keeping you from defeating the evil pizza box” Even as exhausted as he sounds, his voice is laced with the sound of a smile. HIs one open eye closes as you snuggle in closer to him, a content sigh leaving both of you.

It’s not long before Steve falls back asleep, and your breathing syncs with his. Up close you can’t help but look at all his delicate features. The way his eyes are gently closed, lashes fluttering every once in a while, making you wonder what he could be dreaming about. You follow the curve of his nose with your eyes, count the freckles on his face and neck, reaching out you stroke the soft skin of his cheeks. Eventually you're drawn to his lips. Lips so soft and pillowy, slightly parted as his even breaths leave his body. Lips that curve in the sweetest way when he laughs or tells you he loves you. Lips that have been the source of more pleasure than you ever thought possible. Lips that you have kissed countless times. Your mind begins to wander to all the places you and Steve have shared kisses, and to all the kisses you’ll share in this new home you get to build together. It’s with these thoughts of soft lips on yours that eventually your own eyes flutter closed, falling asleep still tangled in Steve’s arms.

#it's shorter than i wanted it to be #but perhaps this is a thing i will return to #at some point in the future #who knows #anyway here's some fluff #steve harrington x reader #stevie fic #steve harrington fluff #ali writes fic #steve harrington blurb

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002yb · 3 months

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May I suggest dickjay in the early stages of their relationship, and rock finding out Jason has bOMBS IN HIS HELMET JASON WHAT ARE YOU THINKING!!!!!!!!!!

Where they're fooling around during patrol, same as usual

Only this time their flirty games of chase around the city escalates to some heavy light petting in some tucked away corner, hidden in the shadows

Dick being contentedly distracted with ravaging Jason's neck, hand creeping up beneath Jason's top. Fingers splayed across Jason's abdomen and breathing a laugh when Jason shivers because Jason is wanton and his little gasps are funny with the modulator

Usually Dick is more than content to get Jason off or at least leave him hot and bothered (specifically when Dick is in an ornery teasing sort of mood, but also because Jason whines and it's cute af) before dipping to finish their patrols

Passionate as he is, Dick’s got the self-restraint to wait until after their work is done before taking Jason apart and wrecking him.

Jason loving Dick's steadfast resolve and finding Dick's sense of discipline to be really sexy, but also super frustrating because it's wildly unfair that it's only ever Jason left a breathless mess during their mid-patrol quickies/trysts.

Jason making it his goal to seduce the fuck out of Dick during patrol. Jason wanting to be the reason behind why Dick's ironclad restraint wavers.

Dick catching on to this real quick and it becomes a game between them

Okay, all that got a bit out of order but we'll bring it back around. SO they've got this game going. Jason hasn't managed to win yet, and tbh forgets to try a lot of the time because Dick is overwhelming in these stolen moments of intimacy

And omg, Jason all breathless and quietly gasping and shakily holding a hand over his helmet to stifle himself, but - helmet - so he’s not stifling anything ahhhhhhh and Dick is so tickled by it !!

Anyway, Jason forgetting to seduce Dick into losing control. And of course it's when Jason isn't trying that he succeeds because headcanon: Jason has no game when he tries, but is so alluring when he's just being himself

So they're just there. Hidden away in the shadows somewhere with Jason's knees buckling, breathing hitched as he tries to support himself on the wall behind him. And Dick can feel how flushed Jason is beneath his hands and the brush of his lips; how wrecked Jason gets from some teasing touches and kisses (dark suck marks visible over Jason's high collar; teeth grazing over Jason's skin and the stutter skip of his pulse. Dick's hair being a mess because Jason gets his hand in it to pull Dick closer and ahhhhhh).

And Dick, in that moment, isn't content just to feel and hear how Jason comes undone. He wants to see it. Wants to see the heat across Jason's freckled cheeks and the tears that catch in his lashes; bitten red lips, swollen. Fringe a mess, all sweaty and mused. Dick wants to see how fucked Jason looks, just like this. He wants to see Jason come undone under Dick's hand and how it might be different from when they're in private because Jason is shameless, but not like this - not quiet like Dick (exhibitionist that he is //u///)

But also? Jason being so captivating and bewitching; sexy and gorgeous and cute. Honestly, Dick just wants to kiss him.

So of course Dick goes for the helmet. And he doesn't think anything of it because he's seen Jason do it countless times.

And Jason snaps back to his senses because ohhhh fuck WAIT, hold up STOP wait omg

The intensity of the warning startling Dick, hands flying back because what what what?? Just Dick stood there, hands raised as he backs off, eyes wide

Jason also standing there, still weak in the knees and supported by the wall. Slumping a bit without Dick there to brace him. Hands also raised

And they both stare at each other, thoughts racing

Poor Dick thinking he crossed a line. He shouldn't have assumed Jason had a domino under the helmet--

To which Jason admits he does. Of course he does.

Which, oh. Okay? Dick not getting it. Because they kiss all the time? So it's not like it's a new thing? And kissing seems a lot more innocent than everything else they usually do? Did he do something?? If there's a boundary here he's really not following and--

Jason getting all embarrassed because his own dramatic preparedness just blueballed him, wow. Also-- Dick isn't going to like Jason's explanation

Dick not needing to see beneath the helmet because he knows by the way Jason turns his head away that Jason is some combination of cowed and sheepish

'What?'

'...it's rigged to explode if you take it off like that...'

'What.'

Which leads to a whole thing because Dick could have killed him. Which, ugh, like hell he could have, dramatic ass. Which, another ugh because which of them is a dramatic ass? A helmet rigged to explode if it's taken off wrong!?

It's their first spat as a, well. They're not a couple, but it certainly sort of feels that way as they argue back and forth. Or!! Hear me out -- the fight that leads to them becoming official.

Just Jason bristling because he doesn't know why Dick is so upset about it. It's a reasonable precaution to take.

And Dick is so exasperated because 1) so much can go wrong (so many what ifs and worst case scenarios) and 2) Dick cares about if Jason dies. He doesn't want that!

And look. It was Jason's personal goal/challenge to get to lose control. He succeeds, too. Just not in the way he intended. Because Jason makes the most callous of remarks claiming that Dick would get over it [the loss of him]

Which leads to Dick's expression shuttering in a truly terrifying way. A cold fury that gives way to cruel passion and something wounded. It's Dick shoving Jason back, pinning him to a wall and seething at him, eyes narrowed and teeth bared because: 'I wouldn't. I've tried; I can't.'

He won't do it again.

Jason being blindsided by the intensity and genuine hurt/mourning there. His heart aching because, oh.

Then it's Jason tentatively pulling Dick into a hug and holding him and soft hurt/comforts

#dickjay #jaydick #degenerate!dick grayson agenda #he's still sweet though #maiden!jason #dorks in love

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possibilistfanfiction · 4 months

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snow!

it starts to snow just as you get to the bar; the inside is a welcome warmth. mary slides a mug of mulled wine your way as you sit down and you chat a little — your remote workday (boring; irritating); how the animals on the rescue ranch are doing in the bar since shannon had improved the insulation (wonderfully). it’s easy, settles something between your shoulderblades that has hurt for a long, long time — to be around someone who expects nothing of you other than some thoughtfulness, to have a hot drink that soothes you from the inside out, spices and citrus and persimmon.

it feels a little like the world pauses, just for a moment, when beatrice walks in a few minutes later. mary smirks, and you get the feeling that this entire town is very invested in finding beatrice a partner, although she probably hates it. to be fair, with her windblown hair and the perfectly fitting sherpa-lined jacket she shrugs off with a smile, the comfortable turtleneck she’s changed into since you saw her earlier at the ranch — you think she probably is the most eligible lesbian bachelor here. you support the meddling, especially as mary tells beatrice to sit next to you and then pours her an expensive whiskey, neat.

she talks to you quietly, seriously, and it’s easy to be wrapped up in her warmth too. after a few drinks her posture loosens and she tells you about her cruel parents who still call her every christmas and on her birthday; she tells you about her life in a busy city before she found her cabin here a few years ago, somewhere quiet to heal, to spend time around people who care for her, and build her home the way she wanted it, and dress in practical, easy clothes, and train her dog. you know there are things she doesn’t say; you have those things that sit in your chest too, but you tell her about how empty your busy life feels, how you understand the mountains and the quiet here. you laugh about not wearing pants when you have work meetings over zoom, and she tells you stories of theo as a puppy, shows you pictures when she was tiny, her baby teeth and a little christmas sweater from a few years ago that makes you melt.

it’s easy to lean into her when she laughs as you tell her a story about a wild night you and chanel had, and it’s intoxicating, her freckles and her smile. as it gets late she offers to walk you back to your airbnb, which is sweet and a little unnecessary because it’s just down the street, but of course you say yes. you notice she has on perfectly clean blundstones, newer than the scuffed boots earlier, clearly used for work. somehow it’s so charming; you head outside and you have to fist your hands in your pockets so you don’t reach out and hold hers, but after a while it’s too much and too easy at the same time.

you turn down the alley between the bar and the urgent care, and she follows, her steps steady and clear.

‘i —‘ you start to say, but the words get lodged in your throat because you cannot possibly be feeling this much for someone this quickly; ‘can i kiss you?’ you say instead.

beatrice mumbles out a yes and then leans forward, the breath she lets out crystalizing in the air before she meets you halfway, her mouth on yours. she’s so handsome and she leans into you, presses you against the brick and it’s intoxicating, the way she kisses and her cologne and the snow falling all around you. you open your eyes a moment before she does and you see a few flakes catch on her lashes. you could take her back to your airbnb; it’s what you would normally do if you were kissing in an alley in your normal life, in the big city with countless people in your bed at night and gone in the morning.

but she is intentional here; she means it, in the mountains and all the warmth despite it being the coldest place you’ve ever been. so you kiss her again; kiss her goodbye for the night, chastely, after she walks you to your door. the light turns on automatically on your tiny patio and bathes her face in relief.

‘i’ll see you tomorrow?’ you ask, too hopeful for your own good.

but she just smiles. ‘i’ll be at camila’s cafe at 8 for breakfast, if you’d like.’

you groan. ‘i’m on vacation. that’s so early.’

she smiles, amused and fond, and kisses your cheek. ‘i’ll bring theo.’

‘well, if that’s the case, i’ll be there. theo is the best, cutest date in town.’

#hallmark au #avatrice #prompts #butch bea 🥺🫡

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katsukiflr · 2 years

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nice tits, tough guy.

⤷ pairing: satoru gojo + fem!reader

warnings: praise, established relationship, brief allusions to face sitting, mutual tit sucking, fairly vanilla, tw: happy couple that’s super in love,

genre: smut, porn with minimal plot, lots of fluff

1837 words

you and satoru are on your bed and before you know it your tits are in each other’s mouths.

a/n: i’ve been working on this for over 5 months, enjoy :)

the two of you sat on your shared bed; a soft woven blanket draped over your lower halves, satoru’s head nestled in your lap, his face turned to the side, and gaze focused on the movie playing in front of you.

your fingers were mindlessly running running through satoru’s soft, snow white locks as he purred in blissful gratitude. if you ever paused your movements, satoru would whine until you pet his head again.

it was truly endearing— how your six foot four boyfriend made himself so small, curled up on your lap, and whining like a kitten when your attention focused on anything other than him.

satoru didn’t think heaven was attainable—it was just another unreachable place stuck between the borders of infinity. but, lying here with you as you scratched his scalp and met his gaze every so often with nothing but adoration in your eyes, he thinks he’s reached heaven.

satoru turns around, away from the movie playing in front of you, and repositions himself on your lap so that his face is in front of your torso. he nuzzles his face into your clothed stomach while humming in contentment. then, satoru’s hand reaches up to cup at your breast through your shirt in a oddly casual, domestic way.

your attention focuses away from the movie and instead on your boyfriend’s sudden, arbitrary actions. your brows furrow in confusion; what is he doing? your thoughts are abruptly cut short when satoru thumbs softly at your nipples through your shirt. a pleased, breathy laugh escapes his lips after he finds that you have forgone wearing a bra.

he circles and gently pulls at your clothed nipples until they’re sensitive and your eyes are fluttering shut as you sit above him. your brows are pinched ever so slightly and satoru’s chest swells when he looks at you, smiling at how cute you look. “satoru?”, you question. you’re surprised by the slight breathlessness in your voice already, but that was just the effect that gojo satoru had on you.

he ignores you, bunching up the cotton material of your shirt just enough to reveal your bare stomach. you inhale sharply when the cool air hits your skin.

your boyfriend takes several moments to admire the expanse of your skin, the curve of your hips, the freckles he’s mapped like constellations countless times, and the soft pudge of your tummy. satoru then presses a feather light kiss to your stomach and in response your insides flutter. he pulls away and looks up at you through long, white lashes. he smiles softly, the sapphire irises of his eyes containing a thousand words that are needless to say out loud.

he presses another kiss. then another. then another. then he bites; he bites the skin of your stomach like you were just another sweet treat he was ready to devour. little did you know you were. you wince above him at the sharpness of his canines digging into the sensitive parts of you.

“lift up your shirt.” satoru deadpans.

you comply instantly, pushing your shirt up to sit just below your collarbones and allowing your breasts to spill out. your cheeks flush with tremendous warmth at your sudden exposure compared to satoru’s lack of it.

your boyfriend briefly admires your breasts with wide eyes and a loving smile until indisputable, carnal desire consumes his senses. satoru’s eager hands come up to cup at your tits and knead the soft skin. he hums at the way that the flesh spills into his hands, a feeling he’s grown accustomed to but will never become tired of. you flinch under his grasp, whining at the feeling of his big hands pawing at you. you found that everywhere that his hands touched left your skin scalding.

“pretty,” he mutters. satoru leans up, his body still draped over your lap, and presses a quick kiss between your breasts before latching his mouth onto your nipple. his eyes flutter shut and tranquillity settles over his features, humming at the taste of you on his tongue and the farmiliar feeling of your tits in his mouth. he languidly swirls his tongue around it, gently licking and suckling until you’re spit slicked, sensitive, and squirming above him.

satoru coaxes you into a state of delirium in which you’re left helpless: heaving and whining as goosebumps prickle your skin, your nipples become sensitive, and shocks of heat surge through you and make home in between your legs.

“o-oh fuck”, you mewl, stomach churning thick like honey and cunt growing damp. tremors run through your body as you begin to curl in on yourself in ecstasy.

his lips are soft, plump, and decorated with a sheen of strawberry chapstick; whenever he wraps them around you, you can’t help but whine at the way they cushion against you.

“satoru,” you keen, body trembling at the fleeting touches, versant hands, and the way satoru’s lips feel soft like an angels cheek. your eyes flicker over him and in a stroke of serendipity notice the tightness of his white shirt and the way his nipples pebble and poke through the cotton. suddenly, you feel hot all over at the thought of satoru’s tits. lust consumes you like a flood comsumes the the streets of earth at the thought of his pressing kisses and sucking bruises into his flushed chest.

“can i uh- lift up your shirt?” you whisper shyly.

satoru hums, pulling away from your tits— a string of saliva connecting them to his mouth. he nods, ears twinged pink as the corner of his lips upturn.

you scrunch up his shirt so it sits on his collarbone. your body feels all too warm now that the delicate, unmarked canvas of his skin is exposed. you sigh as you admire the hard muscle of his stomach, the ridges of his abs, the softness of his skin, and the bulk of his chest. you’ve seen his tits all too many times before but never really studied them until now. they’re so pretty. you think.

his nipples are a soft shade of pink, puffy from his arousal. they’re a beautiful contrast to his milky skin. your hands move to tentatively rest on the curve of his back, urging him forward so that you’re eye level with his tits.

embarrassment settles in and takes form in your warm cheeks and shaky hands. this is embarrassing; you’ve never asked him for something like this. you’ve never done this.

your eyes flicker to satoru’s and you find yourself lost in turquoise pools of andromeda. all coherent thoughts and anxieties melt away at the loving way he looks at you, eager eyes full of adoration.

“you’re so pretty ‘toru.” you sigh, leaning forward to kiss his sternum. your lips graze the very bottom of his chest, teeth scraping over the skin as satoru gasps above you. you plant kiss after kiss over the expanse of his chest before making your way over to his tits.

you part your lips, tongue peeking out to timidly lick at one of satoru’s nipples before sucking it softly into your mouth. “o-oh,” satoru stutters. you repeat the action: gently swirling your tongue around the soft, pink bud before encasing the plush of your lips around it. your other hand comes to softly scratch your nails up and down his abdomen, tracing the hard dips of muscle as you continue to suckle on his chest.

satoru has always been sensitive: his neck, his chest, to the dip of his spine, his cock, his thighs, just below his ears, and presumably in any other places you have yet to discover. the thought of seeing if he can cum just from having his tits sucked briefly crosses your mind; that’s something for another time.

you trail your unoccupied hand up hand to grope at his chest, kneading the silky flesh, and satoru makes the prettiest sound above you. “you’re so sensitive,” you giggle. you gently take his other nipple in between your fingers and pinch and pull at it until he’s is whining above you.

“f-fuck, oh fuck,” satoru moans. you peer at him through your lashes, feeling something swirl in the very bottom of your stomach as your cunt grows sticky. you drink in the rosy flush dusting his cheeks and the tops of his ears, the soft slant of his nose, the welcoming curve of his lips, the aquamarine crystals of his eyes as they roll back, the fluttering of his lashes, the soft tufts of his hair, and his parted lips as the gasp and tremble.

a soft whine escapes your lips at the sight of your boyfriend quivering above you; the subtle vibrations against satoru’s skin making his hips buck carelessly, his cock weeping in the unforgiving confinement of his shorts. he’s so hard.

there is a gluttonous ache inside of him churning slowly in the pit of his stomach. perhaps it’s the way your breasts press together—soft and supple—as you lean over him. perhaps it’s knowing the sounds he could pull from you if his mouth was on your chest right now.

“fuck, please”

he doesn’t even know what he’s asking for, he doesn’t even recognize the desperation in his voice. his skin feels too hot. you’re making him feel so good; mindless whines are tumbling out of his mouth without being of his own accord as you kiss at his nipples and he gets lost in his own thoughts. his mouth, desperate and greedy, longs to feel your skin, to retrace the lines he knows so well, and to make you feel good.

“sweetheart,“ he whines, “gotta make you feel good too.” your chest flutters with warmth and you feel yourself whimper against his skin. “c’mere,” he places his hands on the dips of your hips, urging you forward just a bit more so that your breasts spill directly in front of his face. “there she is.” he sighs, wrapping his lips around the soft bud of your nipple.

satoru kisses and sucks on your breasts as you continue to do the same to his, the both of you exchanging a chorus of hushed whimpers, noises reserved solely for the two of you.

“satoru, it’s ‘s good.”

“i know baby, i know.” he whispers.

you sit like that for a while, mouths occupied, nipples tender and swollen, whining, skin flushed, the air thick and heavy, and hands progressively growing greedier. your hand was stroking satoru’s cock through his sweats as he mindlessly bucked into your hand. his hand was cupping your cunt through your shorts, petting at the warmth as you pressed yourself into him.

satoru is the first to pull away, panting from his uninterrupted assault on your breasts. “okay sit on my face right now before i die,”

you flush, “okay.”

he leans up and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “then i’m fucking you stupid.”

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copias-girl · 1 year

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this absolutely isn’t important, but one of the songs i’ve been listening to on repeat right now has the lyrics “my good looking boy” and i just cannot stop thinking about calling copia strings and strings of endless endearments and compliments and him just absolutely melting. reader carding her hands through his hair and whispering sweet praises into his ear and he just shoves his face further into her chest, tightens his hold on her waist, and breathes in shakily - completely absorbing all of that praise.

GOOD LOOKING BY SUKI WATERHOUSE???

If that’s the song you’re talking about, I’ve literally listened to that SO MUCH while writing tcac!! ♥︎

But omg that’s one of my top daydreams and there’s definitely gonna be a lot of that in tcac later on down the line!! <3

PRAISING COPIA UNDER THE CUT

The poor man is OVERWHELMED. Tears are welling in those beautifully mismatched eyes, dripping down his hot flushed cheeks. He looks like a pathetic little rat, whimpering and moaning and whining because he’s never been told such nice things in his whole entire life. And he never thought he’d be told those things by you.

He trembles when you call him your good looking boy, he shakily exhales when you tell him how good he is for you, his eyes roll back when you call him perfect. He melts into your body, your praise washing over him like a soothing balm and causing his heart to flutter. It’s addictive, intoxicating him and making him feel so dizzy and love-drunk.

And suddenly you’re peeling yourself out of his tight grasp, moving to straddle him and telling him you’re going to kiss all the parts you love about him. His eyes flutter closed when you kiss each painted eyelid, then you kiss his cheeks, the cleft of his chin, his moustache, sideburns, ears. You lavish his pointy nose in so many kisses, running your fingers through his hair as you trail your lips over the lines on his forehead. You tease him by ghosting your lips over the corner of his mouth, and his breath hitches in his throat as you kitten-lick his lips. You then kiss him there countless times, nipping at his lower lip and making him whine, his arms snaking around your waist once more, holding you close. You kiss him ever so deeply, swallowing his moans as the poor old man falls apart for you.

“So good for me, Copia, so good.” You praise your little mouse, earning another pitiful moan while you kiss along his jaw, neck, and collarbone, nuzzling your face into the soft hair on his bare chest before peppering kisses there too. You were determined to kiss every precious freckle on his flesh.

“Mmm you’re so handsome, Copia.” You murmur against his skin. “You’re perfect for me. I’m so lucky to have you. Lucifer has blessed me with you.” You moan, kissing all over his soft tummy.

“N-no, no, I-I am blessed to have you..!” He protests, his cheeks flushed red red red as he tangles his fingers in your hair.

“Shhh.” You hush him, crawling up his body momentarily to give his face another round of kisses. “You’re my sweet, perfect little treasure.” You whisper against his lips, pulling away so you can see the way his eyes well with emotion. Your poor Copia wasn’t used to this sort of attention; all his life he had been insulted, laughed at, and made to feel worthless.

“You’re so pretty, Co-Co.” You kiss his cheekbone, and Copia’s heart skips a beat. “You make me feel so good. You make me cum so hard.” You tell him, causing the poor man to release a desperate moan. He could hardly believe his ears; this must be some sort of a dream.

You capture him in another French kiss, sucking on his sweet tongue for a moment before you continue your crusade down his body. You place hot, open mouthed kisses along his happy trail, noticing the way Copia involuntarily rolls his hips.

He watches with wide eyes as you look up at him through your thick lashes, waiting for your next move. And then he’s letting out a pathetically strangled whine as you place one single kiss on the head of his big throbbing cock; his precum shining on your lips before you lick it off. With a cute smirk on your face, you lay back down on the bed and pull Copia close so he can rest his head on your bare breasts once again, his arms snaking around your waist tightly while he ruts himself against your thigh and whispers “thank you” over and over again into your skin. You run your fingers through his hair, murmuring more hushed praises to your sweet man.

“I love you, pretty boy.” You tell him, causing Copia’s chest to swell as he pulls you in for a searingly, desperately, loving kiss, gasping out a thousand little ‘I love you’s against your lips.

𖤐

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j0kers-light · 10 months

Text

Ahh yes, the first mini project is complete in my journey of “procrastinating on writing the next chapter of His Lighthouse.”

Please don’t be upset with me, I have an idea on how the next update is gonna go its just the matter of writing it. That’s the hard part!

Please accept this fluff moment with J!! 🥹

This idea popped in my head when I was exfoliating before a shower and well... I hope you enjoy the mini snack! 🖤✨

It wasn’t his proudest moment yet Joker wouldn’t spend his quiet night at home any other way. Sitting in front of his pretty girl, getting pampered really wasn’t as bad as it seemed, even if he looked absolutely ridiculous while doing so.

“So? How does it feel?” You asked.

Joker thought about it long and hard and flickered his gaze up to you, catching a curious gleam in your bright e/c eyes, staring back at him. You arched an eyebrow, waiting for a response.

He wrinkled his nose and sighed. “It tingles.”

“Okay…? Does it tingle because it's actively working or tingles because it's uncomfortable? I don’t want you breaking out or anything.”

He went to scratch his face until your hand stopped the motion. “J, stop or you’ll wipe it off! You don’t want all my hard work getting ruined now do you?” You smiled and wiped your own hands off on a nearby towel.

Joker looked handsome despite wearing a cow print spa headband with a blue bow on top. It kept his freshly washed hair away from his face as the moisturizers, toners, serums, creams, and countless other products absorbed into his face.

He sat at your ring lit vanity to let you apply just about every product you owned to his face, all with a grumpy frown for almost an hour now. You were nearing the end (that’s the lie you’ve been telling him for the past twenty minutes) until you slapped– literally slapped– another product into the apples of his cheeks.

And that’s where he was right now.

Letting some flowery smelling acid that he couldn’t even pronounce, eat (safely) at his skin. If it made you happy… he’d endure the odd textures being patted, slapped, and blotted on his rosy toned face.

He secretly enjoyed being doted on but he wouldn’t admit that aloud.

“It. Just… tingles Bunny ‘tis okay.” He mumbled. You took pity on him and kissed his bare lips with a flourish. At least he enjoyed that.

“Alright J, but you’ll tell me if it starts to irritate you any? I want to help combat your bad skin habits, not make them worse.” Of course he took offense to that and made a face.

“What bad habits?”

You crossed your arms and leaned back on the vanity, still standing in between his legs. Did he seriously not know the damage he did to his skin for years?

“Joker. You leave heavy greasepaint on your face for weeks at a time for years without cleansing your pores and you think that’s not bad habits? Who would’ve thought you had freckles under that ghastly white paint?!”

You giggled at the pout Joker unknowingly made and plopped down onto his lap. He automatically opened his arms to hold you close. “I didn’t care bout it doll, not until you, err.. educated meee on iT.”

“Exactly! I can’t believe you hid such a handsome face all these years.” You cupped the back of his head and admired his unique beauty up close.

It was a privilege only you held. Joker was truly a diamond in the rough and it still baffled you that he chose you as a partner. “This skin routine is beneficial, even if it tingles.”

Joker grunted and almost bent down to steal another kiss when the timer on your phone went off. “Oh! Time to remove the eye mask. Show me that gorgeous face, J.”

He straightened up in his chair as you hopped off his lap to start removing the pads under his eyes. His long lashes tickled your fingers with each blink of his stunning green eyes. You waited a second to let the product dry before reaching around to grab something from the counter to complete the last step.

“Say la.” You urged. Joker arched an eyebrow until he mirrored your lip’s motion. You blinked when you saw his sharp canines flash a bit. Hello, hello…

You finished off Joker’s routine with a swipe of a hydrating lip balm. It felt funny applying it to someone else for a change.

You smiled once you were done and leaned back to admire your hard work. Joker’s face looked like a dewy, glazed doughnut. A grumpy doughnut, but hey you weren’t picky.

“Annnd done! How do you feel?”

He cracked his neck after sitting for almost an hour but stared at his reflection in the mirror. Ehh not bad.

He watched you put away the excessive amount of products back into their designated spot. He still didn’t see why you went through all this trouble every night with him. What did you get out of this? He looked the same in his opinion.

You squealed when Joker grabbed you around the waist and attacked you with kisses. He knew the products on his face wouldn’t smear but you still laughed and told him to cut it out.

He grinned and yanked the ridiculous headband you placed on him off before lifting you up bridal style.

“I’m more in-ter-rested in making you feel goo~ood. Why don’t we take this to the uhh bedroom Bunny?”

You were all peals of laughter as Joker cut the bathroom lights off before he tossed you on the bed to start his favorite night time routine, pampering you.

#ledger joker x reader #ledger joker #black!fem!reader #fluff #dark knight joker #heath joker #reader insert #headcanon #joker x reader #joker x y/n #joker’s skin care routine is so dramatic #his lighthouse

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stein048 · 1 year

Text

TW// MCD

Hermione didn’t escape with the others during the war and she died by Bellatrix wand. Her ghost haunts the library at Malfoy Manor, her little bluebell flames the first indication of her presence. 🤍

A little drabble written for this:

~*~

The house reeked of dark magic and burnt ozone. It clung to every surface, staining it with the unsavory odor. The magnificent Malfoy Manor, grand as it once had been, was now the operational base for the Dark Lord from which he now lived in as well. The opulent space had taken on a darker atmosphere. Gone were the merrily flickering chandeliers and torches, replaced by nearly clinical blue orbs of light. The scent of death now lingered. How many had died here, in these walls? Countless. Draco certainly hadn’t kept track.

Most of the family’s private rooms had been sealed off from their live-in guests. Rooms they wished to keep private and untainted. His mothers sitting room. His fathers office. Their own bedchambers. The library.

Draco lingered outside the massive, double doors of the Manor library. They were hand carved mahogany, heavily ornate.

There was no time to read in a war. No time to study. He had been pulled from Hogwarts months ago. The brass handle was cold beneath his fingers, but the door granted him access effortlessly and silently.

The library was dark, the torches no longer lit. They didn’t need to be. Light spilled in from the hallway, casting long dark shadows across the wooden floor. The sunlight peered through the shut drapes, barely illuminating the shelves in stunted warmth. His shoes echoed across the floor as he moved towards the middle of the room. It was silent, but comfortably so. This space hadn’t been tainted by the war. The books had kept their own memories from a different time.

A light seemed to flicker down one of the rows of shelves, and Draco drew towards it. Like a moth to a flame, the little dancing blue light called to him. He had never witnessed them here before. The books that rest on the shelves were filled with magic, and many had magical qualities that could make them appear alive.

“Is anyone here?” Draco asked in a low voice, keeping it steady. He would loathe to think a Death Eater had crept in here and was ruining this sanctuary with their antics. Another blue orb flickered to life besides the first, the pair dancing lazily in the air.

“Malfoy?” A voice called, the sound floating on the air itself.

He turned on his heel, silver eyes glancing around the room to find the source. He recognized that voice. It haunted him.

“Quit playing games with me, Goyle.” He snapped impatiently.

A hazy mist appeared before him, slowly solidifying until a spectral form came into focus. He felt his heart lodging in his chest as eyes met his, her face surrounded by waves of loose curls. He could make out everything about her, from the dance of freckles across her nose down to the way her lashes fluttered.

“Granger.”

A dispirited smile lifted the corner of her lips.

“What are you doing here?” He asked her. As if he didn’t know.

“I can’t seem to leave.”

A pang struck him; many had died yet he had to run into any other ghosts that haunted the Manor. What had made her stay?

“Well, figure it out. I can’t have you flitting about and causing a ruckus. My mother will be distraught to have a Mudblood tainting the halls.”

He moved to step past her, but paused at her words, “I can’t leave this room. It’s been lonely.”

Draco turned his head to look at her. Down at her, really. Had she always been such a short little thing? Well, she wasn’t really anymore as she was dead. Her ghost seemed diminutive. Her arms were wrapped around her waist as she looked at him, brows furrowed.

“I have things to do.” He snapped, but there was no bite to his words.

“Will you… will you return?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. There was almost a hopefully glint to her eyes as she looked up at him. A pleading. It had been months since her death.

Draco glanced towards the door before back at her, his only response a slight tip of his head before he swept from the room. He looked once more before he shut the door to where she lingered, her corporeal glow seeming to cast a light of its own amongst the shelves.

And he would return to her.

Everyday, through the war and after. He spent his days reading to her until it seemed as if they had managed to read every book in the library. There were times he swore he could feel her. Touch her. Brush a curl away when she leaned over him. Even as he grew old, she remained the same. But she didn’t seem to mind, and she greeted him the same. One day, many heads into the future, Draco carried his tired body to the library to sit upon the chair by the fire, just as he had for the last few decades. She joined him, but her smile was sad. Her hand came to brush his face, as if to wipe away the tired lines that marred his skin. Draco closed his eyes one last time, almost able to feel her fingers.

Hermione Granger left the Manor that day, her fingers linked with Draco’s as their spirits finally departed.

**Please do not use art without permission.**

#dramione #harry potter #drabble #hermione granger #draco Malfoy #artist #fanfic art #dramione art #Patronus

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fatale-distraction · 2 years

Note

happy friday! for DADWC, how about some Krem/Inquisitor? :D

No specific prompt used, but let's go with "Secret Dating in King-Sized Quotation Marks".

___

"Krem?"

"Huh? What?" the young mercenary shook himself out of the brief stupor he suddenly found himself in, and looked up to see his chief peering at him strangely. More strangely than usual, at least, considering The Iron Bull had only one eye from which to peer, and a face crossed by countless scars.

"I called your name like, seven times."

"Oh."

"You were staring."

Rich, reddish brown eyes flicked guiltily to the side, where Krem could just catch a glimpse of the subject of his spaced-out day dreams. She was sopping wet. Long, curled strands of hair spilled from tightly coiled braids and stuck to her cheeks, her neck, her violet-inked forehead. The Inquisitor had flung herself head-first into yet another ill-advised situation and ended up falling into a particularly deep stretch of the river that wound itself serpent-like through the Emerald Graves. Good natured laughter filled the air as Sera and Cassandra hauled her out of the water, mercifully unharmed. She was grinning bashfully, drops of water still clinging to her lashes and dripping from her chin.

Most interesting, however, was the way her tunic clung to her leanly-muscled arms, her breeches to toned calves and thick, soft thighs, the rivulets of water trickling down between her breasts.

"I was what?" Krem asked.

"You have all the subtlety of a brick wall, my friend," sighed Bull.

"Yeah, I'll get that taken care of." The Inquisitor was now stripping her leathers off and laying them out to dry in the dappled sunlight. When the sun hit it just right, the pale fabric of her tunic seemed almost translucent as it stuck wetly to her skin. "'Scuse me."

The Iron Bull shook his head as his lieutenant made a beeline for her. The spectacle had begun to end, now that Ellana was safely out of the water and drying off, so when Krem brushed past her, bumping their shoulders together as if by accident, no one but Bull noticed. He saw the surprised look on the elven girl's face turn into a lip-biting blush when Krem pretended to apologize and kept walking toward a nearby copse of trees. She waited a few moments, unraveling her braids and squeezing her hair out with a towel before unsubtly wandering after him.

His arms snuck around her waist as she strode right past the tree he had concealed himself behind. Ellana squealed in pleasant surprise, and Krem clapped an un-gloved hand gently over her mouth.

"Ssh," he bade her, lips pressed against her sensitive ear. The day was fairly warm, but Ellana's unexpected plunge had left her skin cold and as covered in gooseflesh as it was in freckles. Krem pulled her closer against his chest and bent to press his face against the nape of her neck. "You're freezing," he murmured into her damp, red locks.

"Generally, that's what tends to happen when one plunges into a snowmelt-swollen river." Ellana twisted against him, trying to turn herself face-to-face with Cremisius, but he held her tightly, fingers skimming along her midriff.

"And why exactly did you plunge into such a river?"

"I firmly believed it would be fun."

"And was it?"

"Not in the slightest."

Krem's laugh reverberated through his chest, his breath tickling her neck. "How unfortunate, your worship--ow!"

At this, Ellana had broken free from his grasp with a clever turn of her hips and a well-placed knee. She whirled on her partner, whose cheeks flushed an attractive red, eyes predictably falling to wear her tunic clung like a second skin to her bare breasts. "I told you, in private I want you to call me by my name," she reminded him with a stern frown, one hand against his chest.

"You haven't a bra on," Krem informed her intelligently.

She smirked. "No, I haven't."

Mischievous carnelian eyes raised to meet her own amethyst ones. "You should have less clothes on."

"You're quite succinct today, Cremisius." Slim fingers crept around his neck, nails scratching lightly over dark, velvet-soft hair. Soft red lips pressed against his, their eyes fluttering shut as the pair lost themselves in the brief kiss.

"Ellana," he murmured against her open mouth before delving his tongue in to meet hers. He felt her breasts press against him as she went up on her tip toes. A hand drifted down to guide her thigh up over his leg, squeezing the thick, muscular flesh.

"Ssh, we can't," she whispered, gently pushing away, only slightly. Just enough to be able to gaze up into her lover's handsome face. "Not here. They'll be wondering."

Krem nodded, and took a shuddering, sobering breath. He enjoyed one last good squeeze, ducked down to claim another coy kiss, then reluctantly walked the Inquisitor back to camp. It had been his own idea to keep things between them hushed. Technically speaking, she was his boss's boss, and on top of it, the world wouldn't look kindly on a Dalish girl and a 'Vint as a couple. It just wasn't something she needed to deal with right now.

Still, at times like this, he regretted suggesting they be discreet. He'd kill to have her proudly on his arm, to kiss her even when people were looking, to go on a real date with her in a public place.

As Krem returned to his position guarding camp with the Chargers and Ellana moved to warm herself before the fire, Sera and Cassandra shared a look.

"Who the fuck do they think they're fooling?" demanded Sera, wrinkling her nose.

The Seeker shook her head. "They think they're being so sneaky...She doesn't even have a brassier on."

Sera grinned, blatantly staring. "I know, right?"

___

For @dadrunkwriting

Hope you enjoyed!

#kremlavellan #cremisius aclassi #kremquisitor #da drunk writing circle #writing down fatalities #my boy krem

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mvdeanw · 2 years

Text

Jensen Ackles attends The CW Network's 2022 Upfront Arrivals at New York City Center on May 19, 2022, in New York City. (Photo by Kevin Mazur/Getty Images for The CW)

Dean ( Jensen ) love club: @jillmariej @deanwanddamons @deanwinchesterswitch @brilovesdeanwinchester @septembersghost @waywardbaby @spnfangirl1314 @shawnie74 @kwistowee @queenofallerdalehall @charred-angelwings @girlshunttoo @adoptdontshoppets @ddriverpicksthemusic @milo-winchester-4ever @wickedinspirations @quicklymybasement @jensensgotyoudean @lequisha @deansraspberrypie @thoughts-and-funnies @raidens-realm @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @eevvvaa @siospins2 @doublebill @avanatural @samastrophe @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @catnipster69 @waynes-multiverse

#jensen ackles #2022 CW Upfront #JensenEdit #jensen edit #jensen ackles edit #jensen #his face is a work of art #mvdeanw edits #the winchesters #countless lashes and freckles #jensen's close up #eyes of green and ruby lips #god he is gorgeous

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tuliprry · 2 years

Note

can you tell us the story of how cloudburst y/n and harry met?

yes!!! here it goes :)

y/n was dreading leaving the bed, even though being a teacher was a life long dream she was absolutely panicky about having to go to an actual pre school, introduce herself, meet new people and actually become an adult but still just out of university. tony was still asleep, his forehead visibly sweating from a mid august summer heat, sheets pushed back and y/n's cat, pickles, at the end of the bed asleep as well, y/n groans and sits in bed, funnily enough, there's a storm outside, still awfully hot though. pickles stretches and jumps to the floor, meowing as she walks ahead of y/n in the direction of the kitchen, y/n fills her pet bowl with pickles' favourite food. y/n fills up the the espresso machine with oat milk to foam it, and then presses the button for the well desired shot of strong espresso, it immediately gives her a boost of energy for the rest of the day. it's been 45 minutes and y/n is curling her lashes as the last step before applying mascara and leaving the house, she's frustrated, she's in summer clothing but dreading the rain outside, a black cropped t-shirt and a long brown and green skirt that hugs her hips just fine and sneakers that would save her from getting her feet all wet, her long brown hair is wavy from yesterday's beach day and her freckles more notable than usual.

the tube ride isn't long but she can feel her back sweating like crazy, as well as her thighs, she mentally cursed herself for not wearing shorts underneath. the school is an eco-school, y/n has seen some of the pictures and she's so excited to actually see the school irl. she hears her stop and gets up, awaiting for the doors to open, she gets out, holding onto her laptop bag a little tighter as she walks through the swarm of people, "a perfect beach day and you're in the tube" she thinks to herself.

the school building is typically british brown but has a beautiful outdoor space with swing sets and slices, as well as a sort of big patch of lettuces, carrots, tomatoes and other veggies y/n can't quite put her finger on and lastly a big space with various farm animals. inside the school the walls are white, there's a little play house with a slide, there's a play kitchen and a play bedroom and big table with crafts on top of it as well as big book shelves with countless books. the walls are filled with drawings, mostly signed by the preschool teachers with the name and their age/room they have classes in. y/n feels immediately at home.

she walks towards the reception and smiles at the lady she had once talked on the phone with, "hello ms charter! i came in to sign my contract!" y/n smiles and ms charter does some chit chatting as she goes through the paperwork for the upcoming school year. "oh ms charter i need you so bad, billy, aimee's son was in my class while she went to grab their lunch and now his nose is bleeding and he won't let me near him- oh fork i'm so sorry i didn't know you were busy" he says, "i'm harry... or mr styles i don't know if you're a parent..." harry, harry styles. that's a pretty name for a pretty face, "oh i'm y/n y/l/n i'm here to sign the contract, i start next month!" y/n gives him a big smile, "about that boy, do u want me to try and help?" y/n places her bag on top of the counter and follows harry into his classroom.

at the door there's his name, "mr styles" and a blank space, y/n immediately thinks "god i hope it's me", she doesn't take long to look into the room as little billy is now filled with blood on his t-shirt, "hello billy! i'm y/n, do u think i can help?" billy showed no restraint and let y/n clean and get him cotton for his nose, harry was mesmerised, he could feel his biological clock ticking as y/n praised the little boy and gave him gentle head caresses as his sobbing stopped. y/n held the 3 year old and he rest his head on her shoulder as his breathing eased, "wow. how did u do that" harry asked still astonished, "well i'm a special ed teacher, i have the gentle touch" y/n keeps caressing the little boy as his eyes got heavy, "oh! i think you're the girl coming into my class, i'm starting a set of new students in september and the headmaster told me they were looking for a special ed teacher for my class" harry's eyes lit up, he couldn't stop staring at the girl and explaining she was gonna spend every day with him. "oh really? that's fantastic! the vibes in this classroom are amazing by the way, mr styles" y/n giggles, thinking of when he said "i don't know if you're a parent", "oh god i'm so sorry about that, i get so nervous around parents still!" his palms are sweaty and his heartbeat sped up, he feels like a teen looking at y/n but at the same time he feels like asking her to marry him immediately and have his babies. completely infatuated.

hope u enjoyed it!!!

#harry fic #harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry x reader #tuliprry #cloudburst!harry

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leftoverenvy · 2 years

Text

Tastes Like Sugar (ch. 10)

Summary: India Mae, or Indi, is a music major, struggling to pay bills, tuition, work, and make good grades. Emily Prentiss is a BAU profiler, as well as a DC socialite thanks to her huge family fortune. The two enter into a mutually beneficial arrangement: Emily will pay for Indi's school if Indi accompanies Emily to her social functions for a few months, posing as her girlfriend. As weeks go by, the lines between their arrangement and their true feelings start to blur. But money can't buy love, right?

Pairing: India Mae Banks x Emily Prentiss; OC x Emily Prentiss

Warnings: eventual smut; sugar baby relationships; age gap (16 years - but all over 18)

Word Count: 1.8k

Read on Wattpad | Ao3 | Previous Chapters

Taglist: @ssa-sapphic 🧸; @5raysofsunshine 🌮; @reidselle 🦭; @milfprotector 🐝💚; @gaelic-symphony 🎻 ; @scargarcia-magshotchner 💜; @sadgirlml 🌻💌; @hotchs-bitch ; @multiverse-mxdness ; @spencersendgame

Chapter 10 - Progress

Emily's POV I laid in bed, snuggling deep in the covers, on a lazy morning thinking about this past month. Her face constantly flashed in my mind. She was so pretty. I had memorized every freckle, each long lash, the cute scar on her forehead I couldn't help but ask about. Each curl that bounced around her smiling face, springing up and down as her head shook in laughter. Her perfect, white teeth. And that one little dimple on the left side of her cheek.

Her music constantly played in my head. She was so talented. I spent countless minutes watching her from behind the threshold of the archway into the living room. She was captivating when playing. During one of our first conversations, she had described how she would lose herself in her music, and it was a privilege to watch it happen. Before my own eyes, I watched her transcend to a new universe via ivory keys. She was simply radiant, especially in the morning when the sun streamed through the windows.

Images of her all dressed up for me swam through my mind. How perfect she was at the gallery opening – how perfect she was at the symphony. Jesus fucking Christ. I wondered how much longer I could pretend I didn't have real feelings for her.

Her voice asking why I didn't want to have sex with her rang around my head like it happened three seconds ago. It often made me laugh because it was ludicrous. Sex with India was always on my mind. The soft touches, kissing her cheek – it wasn't enough. I needed her like I needed to breathe. And last night, almost kissing her in the kitchen, was such a delicious almost-mistake.

My life, up until meeting her, had always been for someone else. Growing up, I lived according to whatever my mother needed me to be. I dutifully played the part of the goody two shoes, straight-laced student. I went to every political function and plastered on a fake smile for her. And after that, after Yale, I went to the CIA and started working my way up the ranks there. Soon, I was living a lie in the name of global security. And then somehow the job shifted, and I was living for Ian and the life he wanted for Lauren. Living for someone else was all I knew then, and it was all I knew now. Because for the last two years, I had been living for the Bureau.

But then she walked in my life, waking me up from a thirty-eight-year long sleep. Suddenly, I didn't want to live for anyone else. I wanted to live for myself, for her, for us. Life was so much better with her around. She brought life into my existence. She had no idea how exquisite she really was.

I don't know when it had switched for me. Maybe this never really was about having a sugar baby. All I knew was she was everything I wanted. And everything I didn't deserve. I had done horrible things in this life – for duty, for country, for a man I thought I loved. I deserved a lot of things, but India Mae wasn't one of them. She was so pure and good, a ray of sunshine and hope in my life.

Yes, being close to her would have to be enough.

But ever since that day in the café, it was increasingly not enough. The way she looked up at me with those huge, wet eyes sputtered my long-dead heart back to life. She thought she wasn't worth it? She was worth everything. Ever since she waltzed in my life, suddenly there was something else to live for besides work and duty.

I forced myself out of bed with a grunt. That was enough self-reflection and self-loathing for one morning. It's not like she felt the same way. I was nothing more than a meal ticket for her. She could have anyone she wanted. She wasn't on a sugar dating website to find love. I brushed my teeth and piled my hair on top of my head in a top knot.

When I opened my door, I was surprised by the loud music blaring through the hallway. How had I not heard that? I walked downstairs to investigate and stopped in my tracks at the beautiful sight in the kitchen. I forgot I had told her I was away on a case last night. My phone rang, and it was JJ, but she had called to talk about us. After twenty seconds of her saying "Don't hang up. Just listen. I miss you. I feel bad about-" I hung up. But I lied to India about having a case. I just needed to get out of that sexually charged kitchen before I ruined everything we had. That phone call was a blessing in disguise.

So, thinking I was gone, she had her music cranked and she was dancing around the kitchen as she whipped something up for breakfast. Her hips entranced me, swaying back and forth. I couldn't help but stand there and stare, hypnotized by their fluidity. She was so beautiful and carefree. And her moving like that stirred something in my gut. What was it about this damn kitchen that made me uncontrollably wanting? Or was it just India?

She turned around, a spoon covered in batter in her hand, and screamed at the top of her lungs. The spoon dropped to the ground, her hand flying to her chest. "Jesus! Em!" Before I could think about what I was doing, I rushed across the kitchen and folded her in my arms. She looked so precious, and I felt horrible for startling her like that. "Give me a fucking heart attack," she mumbled against my chest.

It was the first time I had heard her curse. And it was unbelievably sexy hearing that word fall from her sweet, innocent mouth. I wondered how I could get her to say it again. And my mind was, once again, wandering to getting her naked underneath me. Or on top of me. I needed to let her go before I did something stupid like kiss her. It didn't help that her chest was still heaving against me.

"I'm so sorry, angel. I know you went to bed after I went upstairs, and I should have texted you, but we ended up not going away." I felt marginally bad about lying about why I was still here.

"So you don't have to leave today either?" she asked, hope leaking through her voice.

"Nope," I said smiling. "So maybe I should take you out, yeah?"

She immediately looked skeptical. "Out for what?" Damn she was onto me. How was it that after a month she could already read me so well. I wanted to take her shopping. I had tried before but she rarely bought anything for her. Everything she bought was for events she had to go to for me. I even checked the balance on her new bank account with her allowance and she had only spent about $100. I could only imagine that was for gas or maybe groceries. But I knew it wasn't for something fun.

"To shop." She scoffed and tried to pull out of my arms. "Come on, India! What's the point of being a sugar baby if you won't let me buy you anything?" I pulled her closer back into my arms and said, "I'm tryna give you some sugar." I winked, wishing I could give her some real sugar. But her answering laugh was enough to satisfy me for now. "Isn't there something you'd let me buy you? I'm feeling like I can't hold up my end of the agreement here."

She looked up at me through thick lashes. "Do you really want to, Em?" Warmth spread in my chest. Was she actually going to let me buy her something? I nodded enthusiastically. "I was meaning to go to the bookstore…"

"Yes!" I shouted. Finally, she was telling me what she wanted. I should have known it would be books. "Let's go!"

"Can we eat breakfast first? And maybe clean the floor since someone made me fling batter everywhere." Her eyes narrowed at me. I squeezed her shoulders and brushed past her. I would happily clean this up. It made me oddly happy that she was finally settling into this.

______________________________

"Are you sure about this?" she asked hesitantly as we walked into the bookstore. I refrained from rolling my eyes – I didn't need to add to her hesitancy.

"It's a bookstore – how much trouble could you get in here?" She simply smirked at me and started wandering the shelves. I dutifully followed her around, holding all the books she wanted. I wasn't expecting to walk up and down every aisle, but if she was going to let me buy her something, I was going to be patient. After about an hour, my arms started getting tired by her loading book after book in them. I hoped she would call it a day soon.

"Okay," she said when we reached the back of the store. "I'm done."

"You sure?" I asked.

"Mmhm. Let's go." But on our way to the check-out counter, we passed by a rack of journals. "Oooooh," she cooed, "Can I get one? Please?" she asked, turning towards me with huge, begging eyes. I thought it ridiculous she was begging me to buy her a journal. I wanted to buy her diamond necklaces; a journal seemed so insignificant.

"Baby, I said get whatever you want. Get one hundred journals for all I care." And then we spent another ten minutes looking at all the journals. She couldn't decide between three. "Indi," I prompted.

"I'm sorry! I'm trying to hurry."

"No, I'm sorry. Just get all of them. You don't have to decide on just one."

Once I had paid and she grabbed her bags, she bounced out of the store like a little kid. She was clearly ecstatic. I shook my head in amusement, finally understanding her just a bit better. "Who knew books would be the key to your heart?" I asked, slipping the bags from her hands to carry them for her.

"And music," she reminded.

"Yes, how could I have forgotten music?" My mind flashed back to her in that burgundy dress the night of the symphony, raving about Chopin. She looked absolutely stunning. And then I remembered the heat that flamed in my cheek after she kissed me there. Music and books. If that's how she would let me spoil her, then that's how it would be.

_ _ _

Continue to next chapter

#🌬 fics #tastes like sugar #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x oc #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds au #wlw writing

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predvestnik-a · 1 year

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' you always redirect the subject when i tell you about how beautiful you are, silly. well... not this time. '

in fact, unless he had an extremely light way of sleeping, ajax should be asleep. two comforters have been thrown atop of the bed before they got in, bodies pressing closer together to share some warmth as winter descends on teyvat. it will snow soon, kaeya knows- the signs are here. a dry cold, not as intense, is just a sign of that.

meanwhile, the captain is well awake, simply admiring his lover.

he dares to move closer to study how the blankets over the ginger's chest raise and lower with each breath. deep and relaxed, for once without any nightmares troubling it. his eyes move upwards, study the dip of his collarbone, the curve of his neck. childe's expression is relaxed, safe and comfortable in an house where he, hopefully, feels safe. the adorable constellation of freckles sprayed over his cheeks and nose never fails to make him smile, so small, so secret.

slowly, quiet as the coming of night, kaeya's knuckles move to brush against ajax's cheek.

it's a featherlight touch, his. he wishes not to disturb his lover, but he can't resist touching him, giving in to his impulse. to let him rest, all he leaves childe with is a stray lock of ginger hair getting safely tucked behind his ear before he rectracts, resting his head over the pillow with both arms tucked under it for support.

he has counted scars hidden under the covers countless times, plagued them with a millionth kisses. he ran his lips over hardened nicks in the flesh like those were his to grace, and a billion times he placed butterfly kisses over freckles, over blushing skin. the same, powerful warmth heating childe's face ignites kaeya's chest, too.

he admires ajax between half-lidded lashes. unbothered, unabashedly and deeply in love with this man.

sleep will not catch up with him this time. but, overall, kaeya thinks that, if he gets to stare, it can be seen as a gift.

Clutches this real close to my chest... BWE.

#i ♡ it; i keep it › ( favorite )#WHY WOULD YOU MAKE IT SO I HAVE NO WAY TO REPLY IC.#This is so sweet. My teeth are rotting.#Childe doesn't even believe he's truly loved and he's a fool. LOOK AT THIS.#ccaptain

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influencermagazineuk · 10 months

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Young CEO Gisella Zimmer Talks About Elite Beauty Bar

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Both treatments use products made in France that are EU approved, 100% vegan, cruelty-free, paraben-free, and ammonia free. - Beauty Queen on a Time Crunch: Semi-Permanent Makeup Let’s take the brow lamination and lash lift a step further. Elite Beauty Bar’s semi-permanent makeup procedure is able to create a full face of makeup, including foundation, blush, highlight, contour, and derma lip blush, that will last up to 6 months. With specific shades and pigments to match different skin tones, this treatment is perfect for those of us who like to sleep in a little later, but still have a full day ahead of us. This glamorous procedure will have you waking up poreless, effortlessly radiant, and ready to seize the summer. The serums used in this treatment safely and naturally assist in the reduction of the appearance of freckles, discoloration, uneven skin tones, darkness under the eye, acne marks, and age spots. While anyone can benefit from this procedure, I particularly recommend it for working girls who spend summers exhausted from passionately chasing their dreams. Sometimes the ultimate form of self-care and stress relief is having something that saves you time and energy on a daily basis so you have a little less to worry about during your everyday morning routine. After a lifetime of balancing your work, your health, your beauty routines, and your personal time, Elite Beauty Bar’s semi-permanent makeup procedure can help you free up a bit more time to spend on other things. You’re doing it all, and you deserve the luxury of having it all too! - Cut to the Chase: Color, Cuts, and Styling After the winter winds split ends and dried roots, Elite Beauty Bar is ready to help you rejuvenate damaged hair just in time for the summer! The master stylists analyze each client’s face shape, skin tone, lifestyle, and preferences to give the perfect cut and color every time. With a passion for creating a look you love, Elite Beauty Bar offers different hair services including balayage treatments, highlights, root touch-ups, and all-over color. These carefully planned styles are perfect for accentuating your glowy, sun-kissed skin. - The Mighty (Derma) Pen: Mesotherapy Infusion Using a nano needle cartridge, Elite Beauty Bar offers mesotherapy procedures with a selection of 8 different Meso serums depending on a client’s needs. Mesotherapy is a very relaxing and comfortable procedure that instantly improves complexion, fine lines, and facial blood circulation. Clients often see positive results with just one application, but for optimal results, they are able to do multiple sessions spaced 2-3 weeks apart. Clients who get this incredible treatment can expect the ultimate pampering experience as specialists cleanse skin and then gently infuse the serums into the epidermis using a derma pen with 81 sterile and disposable silicone tips in order to increase the absorption of products. Read the full article

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nokwisi · 2 years

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waking dreams—viktor x fem!reader note; for the beloved @arcanescribbles, happy belated birthday, you darling gem of a person! I (and countless others) are so appreciative of you, your beautiful art, your kindness, and of course, your undeterred simping of our favorite slav-scientist. I hope you enjoy this filthy little ditty. ♡ warnings/tags; 18+, nsfw, morning sex, vaginal fingering, praise kink, some biting, light teasing (viktor is a tease and we love him for it), fluff + smut / wc;2.2k (for maximum effect, give the song a listen!)

You dream with such vivid clarity, it's as though the image of his touch is transposed into a tangible thing.

Deft fingers, cold and lingering, glide along the soft slope of your flank; from the delicate ladder of your ribs, down to the gentle rise of your hip. They pause there for a moments time, tracing figures that feel like sprawling calligraphy—languid strokes against a familiar canvas.

It tickles in a far off kind of way, and then your dream shifts, dipped into something so real that you can feel the gentle heat of his breath against your neck, the solid press of skin and bone against your back. His heart thrums in the cage of his ribs, echoing into you, synchronized with yours like a shared metronome.

Subconsciously, you smile and push back. You hum in your throat, curl your fingers into the soft plush of your pillow, and revel in the rarity of him being here with you, even if it is fabricated. It's such a novel concept, that you can't help but want more—so much more.

You want to feel his hand dip between your thighs; you want his teeth on your throat; you want to tangle yourself in the pale lines of his body, until you cannot decipher where he begins, and you end.

You reach for memories, fragments to piece together, painting the picture of him above you, and it's a beautiful vision, one where sunlight bleeds into the room, where everything is basked in early-morning gold. You can count the constellation of freckles on his slender torso—see the sweat on his brow and feel the friction of him moving inside you, lighting you up in a blissful blaze.

His hand finds the crescent of your hip in your dream, squeezing it gently, pulling you in time to his leisurely pace—the pressure of it is visceral, and with a soft, dazed moan, your lashes flutter. Light dapples behind your closed lids like red phosphenes, floating in the space between cognizance and the abyss. But the electrifying sensation of those ghostly fingers on your skin, gliding over the cusp of your hip, dancing down the softness of your lower belly, is like a tether pulling you above the surface.

"Mmm..." You stir, whisper his name, and it's flourished with a twinge of deeply ingrained need, "Viktor."

A responding chuckle, all too real, rattles against your back. It's thick with sleep, gravelly and low and perhaps a touch amused, and it ignites a spark of acute awareness in your half-aware stupor. His hand on your belly isn't something of fantasy, either. The arousal that flares within you when his fingers slip beneath the hem of your panties is most definitely real.

"Are you dreaming of me?" He asks, gentle and teasing. The pitch in his voice, the way it vibrates against you with the press of his chest against your back, lures you into ascension with a small shiver.

"I was." You confirm, blearily.

The question of why he's still here, entangled with you still when the day has long since begun sits at the tip of your tongue; you bite it down—he is here; that's all that matters.

"Tell me, before you forget." He coaxes you softly, and it's as though he means to make it a challenge. "Was I touching you, like this?"

At that, he dares to travel lower, cold fingertips grazing just so against the hood of your clit, further still to spiral lazily around that little bundle of nerves. Then, with no real conviction, he glides a single, long digit between your slit, and the pressure is so light—but it's enough. You mewl softly, opening your eyes to the ethereal quiet of your shared bedroom.

Everything is blurred with sleep and the haze of lust, and you feel as though you're still floating, as though you could simply melt into the familiar warmth of him, dissolve right into the palm of his hand. He strokes you absently, the muffled wet sound making heat stipple your cheeks.

"It must have been a good dream." He breathes against your neck, hot and damp, before pressing a single kiss against the soft place beneath your ear. "You are very wet...this is for me?"

With emphasis, he slips his finger inside you on the downstroke; a moan bubbles up in your throat, and when he retreats back to that maddening, gentle stroke, that sound streamlines into an airy whine. With a delirious nod, you reach behind you, searching for the tousled softness of his hair as an elegant curve bends your body.

You push your hips back against him, feeling the hot line of his erection against your backside. "Yes...for you."

"Perhaps I should consider taking leave more often." Viktor muses, "I believe this would qualify as a 'good morning.'" It's teasing, but the concept of this becoming a regular occurrence is arousing in and of itself.

Your thighs clench involuntarily around his hand, but Viktor remains undeterred—stroking up and down, applying a torturously light amount of pressure. Teasing you with an expertise that comes from countless embraces, he's memorized what makes you squirm; what makes you gasp, and whine; what makes you cry his name out in sheer pleasure.

And he knows how to keep you here, in this perpetual bliss that teeters between perfection and ruin. It's an exquisite type of torment, one that you will happily endure, if he's the one doling it out.

"What else did you dream of, hm?" He asks, his mouth flush against the divot between your neck and shoulder.

You swallow against the dryness in your throat, grip his hair a little harder and whisper, hoarse and needy, "I dreamed that you were still here. That you were...you were fucking me."

"I am still here," he says, the curve of his lips felt against your skin; but there's a huskiness to his voice now, one that derives not just from sleep. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

Punctuating the question with the press of his long finger, he sinks it into your tight, wet heat once more until the flat of his palm crashes gently with your clit. Your toes curl at the static pleasure, lashes fluttering against your cheekbones.

"O-Oh—" you gasp quietly, your head craning back far enough to touch the hard shelf of his shoulder; Viktor hums, his free hand, since wrapped around your torso from beneath you, crosses at your sternum and gently cradles the exposed column of your throat. "I want...I just want y-you."

"You have me." He strokes his thumb against your neck, nuzzles his nose into your hair. "All of me, if that is what you want."

"Please—" With a whine, you reach down between your trembling legs and dig your fingers into his taut forearm. You can feel the shift and ripple of muscle as he pumps his finger inside you, "more, Viktor, please."

And he gives you more: he slides in a second digit so seamlessly your breath catches in your throat, the pressure felt like a flash before it blurs with the friction of those long, dexterous fingers inside you. Then he spreads them, brings back that intoxicating stretch with purpose; you cry out, tightening your grip on his arm, pulling his hair just a little harder.

Viktor lets slip a low, appreciative moan against your temple. "Open your legs for me." The heated and urgent cadence in his voice makes you shudder against him, and you're quick to respond, splaying yourself far enough to drape your leg over his, tangling your bodies together. "Yes, like that—good girl."

The praise roots itself to your bones, steeps you in lust, and you clench around his fingers and whine through your teeth. Rolling your hips against his hand, desperately chasing down his touch, you absently grind back against his cock in a way that has his breath stutter.

"Beautiful..." He gasps hotly, "you are a vision."

Viktor shifts his hand then, presses impossibly deep, and curls his fingers on the drawback; dragging against that spot within you that lances white-hot pleasure through your veins. At the high, piteous noise that escapes you, he quickens his movements, a steadfast piston that is embarrassingly audible.

You're so wet, you can feel the flood of your arousal on your thighs; the slick sound of him fucking you with his hand carrying a lewd rhythm under your increasingly desperate moans. He builds you up with ease, experienced and adept, and then it's there—mounting pleasure that's quickly reaching a crescendo in the pit of your belly; hot and tight and painfully close.

You can't articulate what you want, can't tell him that you're riding the edge of your orgasm so dangerously close it feels as though you'll shatter any moment. "Gods—oh gods, Viktor!"

"Yes," he exhales sharply, presses his mouth against your shoulder as his hand inches higher up your throat; cradling your jaw tenderly. You're bracketed in his arms, splayed wide and speared on his long fingers, thrusting in and out of you relentlessly. "Come apart for me."

Answering your unintelligible plea, Viktor grinds his palm against your clit hard, pushing his fingers down to the knuckles to drag incessantly against your sweet spot. It's a luring motion, firm, as though beckoning you to cum.

He doesn't need you to vocalize what you want—he knows, and as though proving just that, he bites down on the sensitive dip of your neck with a deep groan, that soft spot that never fails to make you writhe. It rockets sharp pleasure down the track of your spine, coalescing with his touch so well—

It hits you like a maelstrom.

You gasp out loud, back arching as though jolted with electricity, and it feels just the same; raw, overwhelming pleasure that arcs along your nerves, gathering hot between your legs. Your muscles spasm as your body goes taut, silk walls clenching tight around his fingers, to which Viktor does not relent; he keeps going.

He pushes you through your orgasm, and right into the depths of another, plunging you into a stupor where nothing else matters, nothing but him.

This early morning where he is still here, this heated intimacy that you never wish to let go of; the closeness of your bodies slotted together so perfectly, like Viktor was crafted specifically to fill the empty spaces within you.

It's euphoria; it's ecstasy; it's heaven.

You don't even realize how fiercely you're tugging on his hair, how you dig your fingers into the ivory plane of his forearm hard enough to brand him with the crescent of your nails. You tug your lower lip between your teeth, score it until it aches, and you ride it out until your voice cracks, warbling with a tinge of discomfort.

And Viktor—so painfully aware of everything that you are—slows his movements mercifully, gradually.

He lulls you down from your peak with a gentleness that is so distinctly him; soothing the sore spot where he bit you with open mouthed kisses and murmured words of praise. "So good, moya lyubov. You did so well."

When he slips his fingers out of you, you can't help but whine at the loss. You feel empty, left bare with your thighs trembling and slick. He's made a mess of you, but you couldn't care less: your whole body tingles with the bliss of your orgasm, like a residual high singing in your veins.

Viktor brings his fingers up then, and you watch through half-mast lids and a flourish of wild heat as he spreads them inquisitively. A shaft of light drapes over your sweat-slick bodies, highlighting your arousal that clings to his fingers like strings of glimmering silk.

Then, Viktor brings his hand to his mouth.

A strange squeak of a noise escapes you; part aroused, part embarrassed. You can't help but vie for a better look at him, shifting onto your back while instinctively cupping your hands over your mouth; bashful and red-faced.

He licks at his fingers with the casualness of cleaning frosting off a spoon, humming in approval. His golden eyes, like fire in the sunlight, slant down to meet yours, a devious looking smirk curving his lips.

"It is like...hmm, breakfast in bed." He declares, and your mouth drops, the blush on your cheeks scattering like stardust across your skin.

Before you can even begin to respond, he pushes against your shoulders, eases you back down before taking the space between your legs. Suddenly, you're struck with the image you'd conjured in your dreams: Viktor, above you, bathed in sunlight; a zodiac of freckles dotting his ivory skin, a hungry glint in his eyes.

"You're beautiful." You blurt it out, it's the first thing that comes to mind, and it's entirely true.

It's Viktor's turn to blush; huffing an incredulous breath through his nose. "If I am beautiful, then you are a dream come true."

Your heart leaps, breath lodging in your throat, and you reach for him, suddenly overcome with the need to feel him all over again. Viktor falls into your embrace eagerly, pressing himself against you with a reverent whisper of your name.

#viktor x reader #viktor x you #arcane #arcane x reader #god what a morning huh #my writing #viktor arcane

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