#god i don’t wanna do her fucking bow and hands. and legs and skirt. and naginata

[a-sketchy]

fine, i’ll will her into existence myself

psst, full version here

#hamuko arisato #kotone shiomi #wip #my art #uh. i guess? i’m painting directly over the p3r minato battle outfit art #so it feels weird taking credit for it #but on the other hand i’ve spent like 6 hours on this so far #rendering is soooo fucking hard. not having to vibe out the forms of an anime face is nice though #i should do paintovers more often they’re real fun #god i don’t wanna do her fucking bow and hands. and legs and skirt. and naginata #fuck. pray for me #p3r

[whoreiaki-kakyoin]

Attitude Adjustment 💖

Nsfw under the cut, fem reader x Joseph x Caesar, reader teasing Joseph by flirting with Caesar to make him jealous, light degradation, exhibitionism, public sex, office sex, voyeurism, daddy kink, spitroasting, creampie, bukkake, reader has a pussy

I want you to picture the following: Joseph and Caesar are business partners, and sometimes when you’re feeling bratty or really want Joseph’s attention, you’ll flirt with Caesar when they’re both in the office. Things like grazing your hand along his arm, sitting right in his lap as you ask what he’s working on, twirling your hair as you giggle at his jokes then running your fingers through his hair. Joseph just watches it all, knowing exactly what you’re up to, and he approaches Caesar on the side about a little plan to teach his darling some manners. The next time, while you’re making a show of complimenting Caesar’s muscles, running your hands over his chest, Joseph grabs you roughly by the hips and tugs you over to his desk. You give a little squeal of “Joseph, what—“

“That’s not what you call me, doll.” You blush, glancing nervously back at Caesar as Joseph maneuvers you into his lap.

“Joseph, please—” you try again, but you quickly cut off with a squeak when the older man gives your ass a warning smack. Heat rises to your cheeks and you fight the urge to squirm. You've been bent over his knee for being a brat before, but you don't exactly need him teaching you a lesson while his business partner watches. “But… but, daddy, Caesar’s right there!” You whimper softly, embarrassed and frankly a little turned on that your daddy would assert his dominance right here. Joseph’s eyes don’t leave you once, not even glancing at his friend.

“Caesar doesn’t mind a show, doll. And we’re going to give him a good one as thanks for him putting up with your bratty behavior.”

“But… but daddy!”

“Yes, babygirl?”

“I was only playing, daddy, really, Caesar didn’t mind! Just messing around!” Joseph’s hand tightens dangerously on your thigh and you can feel yourself dripping already.

“Hmm, so you want Caesar to think you’re a naughty little slut who flirts with anything that moves? I thought daddy had taught you better manners than that.”

You squirm in his lap, letting out a soft whine as heat flashes through your stomach at his words. You’re certain your panties must be soaked. None of this escapes Joseph’s notice, and he gives a low chuckle.

“Are you enjoying this, sweetheart? You like when daddy says such nasty things? And right in front of another man? Hmmm, my filthy little girl, probably want me to take you right here, don’t you? That slutty little pussy just needs to be filled.”

You flush even redder, your hands resting on Joseph’s firm chest as you bite your lip. He shifts his leg slightly and you gasp at the friction against your aching pussy. Smirking, he shifts his hands to your hips, guiding you to rut against him.

“So needy for me already, princess. It’s like you don’t even care where we are. You’re just thinking with that wet little cunt of yours, don’t even care who sees as long as daddy touches you.”

“D—daddy…” you throw your head back with a broken little moan, hips rocking with the rhythm of Joseph’s leg against you. Soft whimpers fall from your mouth, filling the room, and you almost forget about Caesar completely in your neediness, your lust giving you tunnel vision for your lover in front of you. After a few moments, Joseph stills your hips, looking down at you with a devilish smirk.

“Naughty little thing.” He guides you up off his lap, laughing at the slick wet spot shining on the leg of his pants. “Look at what a mess you made, honey. So eager for daddy.”

“Daddy, what…?” You falter as he stands, unsure of what comes next.

“Strip for me, doll.”

“But…” your eyes flick to Caesar, who watches intently from his chair. A small, pleased smile curves around his lips, and you could swear you hear him laugh as you avert your eyes shyly.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Joseph asks. You shake your head, tugging off your shirt, then your skirt, kicking off your heels and tucking them neatly beside your daddy’s desk. “Mmm. Panties too, baby. But daddy can take those off, come here.”

He unclasps your bra, tossing it to the side, and lifts you to sit on the desk as he eyes your panties, skimpy satin and lace adorned with a little bow. He slides them down your hips and legs, admiring the soaked fabric before crossing the room to show them to Caesar.

“Isn’t she just soaked? Look at that, getting off on a little extra attention.”

“Needy little darling,” Caesar chuckles. “Such a pretty girl.” You feel your face burning, embarrassment and arousal mingling as heat twists in your stomach.

“Daddy,” you mewl softly, a plea for Joseph to go easy on you. He chuckles, crossing back to the desk. You’re suddenly aware of just how exposed you are, naked on his desk as Caesar watches. “Daddy, are we really going to…. Right in front of Caesar?” He smirks at your pleading expression, running his hands down your sides.

"So shy, sweetheart? Just a moment ago, you couldn't wait to show off for Caesar, climbing all over him like a bitch in heat. I don't think it's very fair not to lead him on without giving him a little something for his troubles, baby, do you?" You whine helplessly, but before you can protest more, Joseph tugs at your nipples, kneading them between his fingers. Your back arches instinctively into the touch as you answer him with a needy moan. “That’s my good girl. I knew you’d come around. After all, honey, we’re going to take such good care of you.”

“Daddy, please,” you whimper. “Need you.” Joseph melts at that— he's putty for his pretty angel— before relenting as he presses his lips to yours. You kiss back desperately, your open, needy mouth a perfect invitation for Joseph to tug at your lower lip with his teeth before sucking on your tongue. His fingers tangle in your hair, tugging just hard enough to elicit a pretty moan. When he finally pulls away from you, your head is spinning. Gazing breathlessly up at him, you let out a pathetic whine at the loss of contact.

"Aww, you really need daddy, huh?" He laughs as you nod, petting over your hair before moving to undo his belt. "Oh? And you were so fuckin' bratty before, all you needed was for daddy to touch you, yeah?" You're leaning back on your hands for support, eyes glued to Joseph's hands sliding his dress pants down, tugging his hard cock out... Thick and veiny and perfect. His length was admittedly intimidating, but it never stopped you from begging for his cock, no matter how sore you'd be the next day. You don't even realize your mouth is hanging open as you watch him until he chuckles, stroking your cheek.

"Practically drooling for daddy's big dick already, hm, princess? God, you're cute. You want me inside you? "

"Please, daddy! Please, I need you so much, wanna feel you inside me!"

"Hm..." He smirks. "I don't know, Caesar, she has been such a brat today, hasn't she?"

"Oh, I think she's been a little tease all week. But such a pretty principessa has needs, she can't help it."

"Mm, that's right, just so desperate to be filled up. Do you think I ought to indulge her? Or should she have to wait while we tease her pretty pussy?" He rubs his cock against the wet heat of your lips, pulling away as soon as you try to lean into the friction. Pouting, you turn the prettiest, most innocent doe eyes you can to the blonde man.

"Please? Please, Caesar, tell him not to tease so much, I can't... can't take it, please," you babble, and Caesar smiles as he walks to the desk, dropping a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"She has been such a naughty girl, Joseph, but I think you ought to fuck her. She looks like she could just cry if you didn't." With a wicked grin, Joseph digs his fingers into your hips, pulling you back to the edge of the desk. Caesar strokes your hair and shoulders gently as your lover pushes into you in one slow thrust. As you throw your head back with a moan, you can hear the blonde murmur, "Bellissima. So beautiful, sweetheart."

"Fuck, Caesar, she's so wet, got such a tight, perfect cunt..." He gives a few shallow thrusts, rocking his hips gently as you adjust to the stretch of his cock inside you with a shaky gasp. "Mmf, I woulda let you have a taste first, but... Next round, I promise." Your brain feels hazy with pleasure, but you glance between the two men.

"Wait... n-next round...?"

"Oh, sweetheart, it wouldn't be quite fair not to let Caesar enjoy your pretty pussy, would it? Not— ah— not after you've teased him so much." A shiver runs down your spine, and you arch your back into Joseph's thrusts as Caesar kisses the corner of your mouth.

"I'll treat you very well, cara, don't worry. Would you like that?" You moan brokenly as Joseph rubs his thumb over your aching clit.

"Fuck..." You loll your head back at the feeling before Joseph pinches your nipples hard, making you jolt at the sudden sensation.

"I believe Caesar asked you a question, little missy. Aren't you going to answer?" You force your eyes to meet Caesar's, even as Joseph quickens his pace.

"Y...Yes, Caesar, f-fuck! Mm, please," you whimper, and the blonde presses his lips to yours with a soft laugh. He indulges you for a few moments, kissing you deeply and kneading at your breasts, before sighing and glancing at Joseph.

"Jojo, do I have permission to use her pretty mouth?"

"Use her however you want. I don't think she'll be quite so bratty when she's stuffed with cock." You're so focused on Joseph fucking you that you don't even realize Caesar is ready until his thick cock nudges at your lips. You let out a soft, needy whine— he feels thick and warm against you, and you feel so dirty knowing your daddy's best friend is about to fuck your mouth like this.

"Go on, baby, be a good girl for Caesar," Joseph tells you, and you timidly start with tiny kitten licks at the other man's tip.

"Sweet girl. Joseph's right, you really are such a doll. Ready for me, principessa?" You just about manage to nod before Caesar pushes his length into your mouth, stroking your head and cooing out encouragement. You feel blissfully overwhelmed as he starts to thrust faster, causing you to choke and drool around the base of his cock as he fucks your throat.

As Caesar swears softly in Italian, babbling out praise, Joseph's thrusts become more erratic, his fingertips bruising into your hips as he nears his orgasm. The office fills with the sounds of skin slapping on skin, labored breathing and moans pouring from all three of you. You're almost unsure which hands are whose, everything blurred into a hazy landscape of touches and praise and pleasure. You're sent over the edge when Joseph resumes massaging your clit, and you moan loud and shameless around Caesar's cock as your orgasm tears through you. It's only moments later that Joseph follows, hilting inside you with one last thrust as he fills you with warm cum.

Caesar pulls out of your mouth, giving you a chance to breathe for only a moment before shooting his warm release over your chest. By the end of the night, both men give you a few more orgasms with their skilled mouths before jerking off over you as you lay limply on Joseph's desk.

Joseph holds your hand as Caesar cums one last time over your face.

"Say thank you, sweetheart."

"Th... Thank you, Caesar."

“That’s my good girl,” Joseph praises. He helps you to sit up, the two men cooing over your exhausted, fucked-out body. “we’ll get you cleaned up, sweetheart, don’t worry.” You nod into his touch, smiling softly as Caesar grabs you a towel and Joseph helps you get dressed. Your legs are wobbly and your head is light, but Joseph supports you as you cling to his arm.

“Thank you, Caesar,” you murmur again shyly as you make your way to the door, and Joseph chuckles, petting over your hair fondly.

"There's my sweet princess. I knew all you needed was an attitude adjustment." He sighs happily. "Do you think you'd like to play with Caesar again sometime, baby?" Heat flares between your legs as you smile shyly at Joseph.

"Yes, please, daddy." He grins, pecking you on the lips lovingly.

"I thought you might. Well, I think that can be arranged. But for tonight, there's a hot bath waiting for you at home. After all, you’ve been such a good girl.”

#laur’s writing #jjba smut #jjba x reader #caesar zeppeli x reader #joseph joestar x reader #oldseph x reader #joseph 🖋✨ #caesar 🖋✨

[angryschnauzer]

Castle Under The Stars

Summary: You always worry when its a full moon and your husband is away on assignment, but this full moon is different as he comes home to be with you. Will it be for good? And just how much fun can two werewolves get up to during the full moon when they have a child to look after?

A continuation of Moonlight On The Sand

Pairing: Werewolf Captain Syverson x Werewolf Female Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Werewolves, Breeding, Breeding Kink.

Typos are free range and organic, allowed to run wild and free. I do not operate a tag list but if you follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications, you’ll get an alert each time i post something new. Past works can also be found there.

Castle Under The Stars

You stepped out onto the back porch and propped the door open with a boot, the warm summer's breeze blowing softly at the net curtains on the kitchen windows, bringing in the scent of the roses in from the garden. Wiping your hands on your apron before hanging it on the little hook by the door, you grabbed your garden shears and flower basket, and headed out with bare feet onto the cool grass. The windows of your cabin all stood open, allowing the warm breeze to flow through the house, but also so you could hear if your little one cried from his nursery.

Quietly you stood and let the breeze push your light skirt against your legs as you carefully selected roses from the overloaded bushes. Small clouds skidded across the night sky, and for a moment you turned your face to feel the soft moonlight on your skin. The reflection of the sun's rays on its surface from orbit made your skin prickle, as if someone was pouring champagne over your limbs, but that was as far as your transformation would go, with the exception of the ring of fire in your irises.

You had been Sixteen when you had been turned. On a geology camping field trip, nature had literally callen and as you’d been in the bushes relieving yourself that’s when the lupine had got you. It took a few months to realise what had happened, and it was only when your monthly period bleed coincided with a full moon did you turn. With irregular cycles through your teens and early twenties, you probably only turned twice, maybe three times a year, but eventually you got used to it.

It had however been a bit of a shock to your new husband, Sy, when you had turned for the first time. He’d knocked you up on the first day he met you, so it took a good 11 months before your cycle had come back, two months after the birth of your precious baby boy. That first night had been a challenge; dealing with a newborn whilst both parents were howling at the moon, however you were thankful that Edith who lived in the cabin down the lane knew of these things, and upon hearing the howling had rushed over in her nightgown. 

Since then Edith had been like a surrogate mother and grandmother, as it turned out her late husband had the lupine tendencies too. Your deployment had ended whilst you were on maternity leave and you’d chosen to leave the Army entirely rather than take a desk job. Sy was special ops and in the middle of another deployment, but you had no idea when that would finish because of the nature of his assignment. Looking up at the moon you wondered where he was, hoping he was coping with the full moon and his monthly transformation. You weren’t ashamed to admit you actually really enjoyed when he was at home for a full moon; he was even more attentive and the sex was mind blowing. Standard sex with Sy left you bow legged and exhausted, but with the added power of the moon… well, it was out of this world and you’d had orgasms so strong you’d actually passed out a couple of times. 

The sounds of the occasional truck on the highway a couple of hundred feet away sporadically filled the night, and you thought about that time Sy had driven out to the lake with you and you’d spent the night fucking under the moonlight in the flatbed which he’d covered with blankets and throw pillows. You’d been seven months pregnant but good god it was some of the best sex you’d ever had. 

As you shifted to reach a particularly large rose you could feel your panties stick to you, just the thought of Sy was making you wet and ready. You wished you knew when he would be home, taking matters into your own hands wasn’t nearly as satisfying as the real thing from the man you loved.

Just then you heard a pair of owls hooting in the distance, a truck on the highway honking its horn, so you didn’t notice the sound of tyres on the long grassy driveway that ran up the hill to the cabin. Humming to yourself you were running your fingertips over the soft petals of a trailing white rose when the first hint of his scent reached you on the wind. It made you stop and doubt yourself, before it hit again and you felt the heat in the pit of your stomach bloom. Dropping the basket and shears on the grass you ran to the front of the cabin, the breeze catching at your skirts before you finally saw him, standing at the open gate to the garden, his large duffel hanging from his shoulder, the fire in his eyes as he finally saw you.

“Sy!”

He let the bag drop to the floor as you ran into his arms, launching yourself at him, your legs were wrapped around his thick waist as you kissed him. His deep laugh as you peppered his face with soft kisses, the tears of happiness rolling down your cheeks;

“I’m here Darlin’” he practically growled, and that’s when you remembered the moon.

Pulling back you looked him in the eyes, the golden ring of fire matching your own, and as he took long strides across the grass you felt the coupling connection again, just like that first night in the desert. 

He set you down on the lawn, laying you softly on the grass as he pressed open mouthed kisses down your neck. Grasping the front of your dress he let out a growl as he ripped the garment clean in two, humming his appreciation at your swollen breasts where you were still breastfeeding and soft belly, before your soaked panties met the same fate as your dress. His lips continued their path down your body, until he reached the apex of your thighs and inhaled deeply, his eyes shining bright in the moonlight before he dived in and licked a wide stripe through your soaked folds. There under the soft caress of the moon’s rays your lupine husband pulled the first of many orgasms from your body that night, surrounded by the wild calls of nature and the overwhelming scent of the roses. 

-

Sitting at the kitchen table, the morning sunlight streamed in through the windows as you flipped the pancakes on the skillet, smiling as you watched your two boys have breakfast. Michael sat in his high chair, babbling away as Sy seemingly understood every word of gibberish that came from his son’s lips. 

Sliding the pancakes onto a plate, you set it down on the table before you felt a strong arm around your waist and Sy pulled you across his lap, his massive hands smoothing over your bare thighs where all you wore were panties and his t-shirt;

“Steady there Darlin, making me want more than just pancakes for breakfast if you’re walkin’ around in just this”

Just then there was a knock at the screen door, all three of you turning to see Edith smiling and waving from the other side;

“Edith! Come in girl, been looking forward to seeing ya!” Sy called out, a huge grin on his face that got even bigger when he spied the basket she was carrying covered in a red and white checkered napkin.

You reluctantly climbed off your husband's lap, excusing yourself to quickly grab your robe as Sy and Edith talked;

“Big Sy, i knew it was your truck that rumbled past my cabin last night”

“Was indeed, home with my girl and my little man” he paused as Edith set the basket onto the table; “Those aren’t….?”

“They sure are” she pulled the napkin up and underneath were her famous peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies.

Sy quickly pulled one from the basket and snapped it in two, handing half to Michael who happily chewed on the freshly baked treat.

“Hmmmnnnn, Edith, i could get used to these”

“You staying this time Sy?”

“I sure am Edith”

“Does she know?”

“Nope, wanna surprise her later”

“Moon’ll be up again tonight, you want me to watch Mikey?”

Just then you walked into the room, catching the last of the conversation;

“Are you sure?”

Edith stood and smiled, rubbing a finger over Michael’s chubby little cheek;

“Absolutely, why don’t I drop by after he’s had his supper?”

-

Setting Edith up with everything she would need for an evening of watching Jeopardy as your son slept peacefully in his crib, you grabbed the picnic basket and blanket and gave Michael a kiss, before stepping out into the night air. Sy had already taken off, with the moon rising before sundown he got antsy, but he would meet you at the lake. He’d set everything up ready, and just told you to drive his truck down, he’d set off on foot earlier, wanting to burn some energy in the calmness of nature.

The truck's tyres crunched on the gravel as you parked up, the lake a still mirror for the pink purple skyline as the sun set behind the mountains in the distance. But none of those were what you were looking at, no, what drew your attention was your husband quietly sitting on a rock at the shoreline, his boots resting beside him as he let his feet cool in the waters. With your sandals left in the truck you walked across the soft sand before reaching the shoreline, sitting beside him as he wrapped his big arm around your shoulders.

“Sy, what are you thinking about?”

He looked at you, his smile warm as his eyes shone amber in the low light;

“Lots of things Darlin… how lucky i am to have you in my life, how i don’t think i could have coped with what happened if it hadn’t been for you”

“Oh Sy…” your eyes watered; “I love you so much”

“I love you too Darlin. You and Mikey are my world…” he paused, poignantly; “There’s something else i wanna tell ya Darlin…”

For a moment you heart sank, dreading what he was going to say;

“Sy…”

“Ya know how Walt’s construction business is expanding and he needs a new site manager?”

“What?” whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t that

“Well, i got a surprise…” he pulled you onto his lap, his hands resting on your ass; “I’m done with the Army”

“No! You’d better not be fibbing…” your eyes were full to the brim, nervous tears threatening to spill

“Not fibbing… i’m done. Wanted to keep it a surprise until i knew for sure that the assignment was completed”

Crying happy tears you wrapped your arms around your husbands shoulders, burying your face in his neck as you sobbed joyfully that he wasn’t going away again. 

When you had finally settled down and Sy had reassured you for the 10th time that it was definitely true, he was definitely staying home for good, the pair of you stood and started to walk along the shore of the lake barefoot, the warm sand beneath your feet as you clasped your hand around his.

The gentle sound of the water coupled with the feel of your skin touching his calmed Sy, even though the moon was out high above the pair of you, he didn’t feel the need to turn, the sense of utter contentment a balm on his soul. As you had rounded the lake he stumbled on a pebble, and in turn a giggle escaped your lips. Steadying himself he smirked and kicked at the water, splashing you a little as you let out a shriek at the cool water hitting your warm skin. Retaliating you splashed him a little more than you were expecting, soaking one side of his cargo shorts and he paused and looked at you with a feral smile spreading across his lips;

“Oh, now you’re in for it Darlin…”

Your legs carried you as you ran through the surf, knowing Sy would eventually catch you, yet the thrill was in the chase. You could hear his heavy footfalls gaining on you, but you had the advantage of being light on your feet and made a sharp turn into the woodland, the soft grass beneath your feet dry and coarse. You realised he wasn’t behind you and you slowed, turning to try and figure out where he went, when suddenly he emerged from the bushes, his eyes glowing amber in the darkness and he tackled you to the ground, yet somehow managed to turn your bodies so you were on top of him;

“Gotcha!”

He pulled you down so he could kiss you, turning your bodies until he was on top, shifting his knees so he could nestle between your thighs. Your skirt had rucked up in the tussle, and the harsh brush of his shorts against the soft skin of your thighs had your hips bucking up against him, eager for friction as your arousal grew. With the quick fumbling of eager hands you were both soon naked, Sy kneeling between your spread thighs to take in the sight of you, your nipples hard and your arousal a sheen between your legs. Grabbing your hips he pulled you up his thighs, your back arched and your shoulders still on the ground as he thrust into you, spearing your flesh with his own and you both let out a howl of pleasure. 

Sy couldn’t tear his gaze away from where your bodies were joined, watching each time he pulled out and saw your juices glistening on his shaft, or how your cunt stretched open as he pushed this fat dick back into you, parting your walls and you cried out in pleasure. He fucked you like the feral beast he was, claiming his mate and catching the tell tale scent that drove him wild;

“Fuck, you’re ripe… gonna breed you and give you another pup. Thought i caught the scent last night but now i know for sure… can’t wait to see your belly round and your tits even fuller…”

He drove into your fertile body, feeling you cum around him yet he pounded through your orgasm knowing your cervix would be wide open now that you had cum and ready to take his seed. You were whimpering in his grasp, desperate for more but overwhelmed at the same time; 

“Sy… please… please put a baby in me…”

“Almost… there… Darlin’...” he grunted through thrusts, before his body went rigid and he threw his head back, filling your womb with pump after pump of his thick seed, a broad smile on his face as he even held you in place knowing that gravity would help get every last drop of cum through your cervix and flood your fertile ground. 

When he had finally finished coming he carefully settled the two of you onto the soft grass, holding you tight as your bodies were still joined, knowing that he would stay hard for another two or three goes. By the time he would be finished your bodies would be battered and bruised from the intensity of your lovemaking, yet the power of the moon would ensure by morning you would be healed, no outwardly visible signs that the feral carnality of the nights pleasures left behind, even if it meant you’d be sitting down tenderly on a cushion for the following 48 hours. 

It was well into the early hours when the pair of you finally limped back to Sy’s truck, resting your head on his shoulder as he carefully drove home, the moon having set early thanks to its cycle. 

When you arrived back at the cabin Edith was having a cigarette on the porch, the baby monitor resting on the rail next to her;

“Got it outta your systems?” she grinned as she took one last drag before crushing it in a plant pot of sand that sat at the doorway. 

“For tonight” Sy smirked as he carried you bridal style up the steps of the porch; “Can we book ya for tomorrow night too?”

“Sure thing Big Sy, but you’ll owe me”

“I’ll come fix the drainpipe around your porch once the full moon has passed”

“Deal… you’re a good-un” the old woman smiled as she grabbed her keys and slid the baby monitor into your lap as you quietly snoozed in your husbands arms; “It’ll be a girl this time”

Sy’s eyes went wide;

“How do you…?”

“I just know Sweetheart… my husband wasn’t the only one that’d turn ya’know…”

Sy held you as he watched the old woman make her way down the grassy lane to her cabin;

“She’s full o’ surprises is that one…” he looked down at you and pressed a kiss to your cheek, before catching the screen door with his booted foot; “Lets get you to bed for some rest… gotta recharge for tomorrow night… maybe make it twins…”

You shifted in his grasp;

“That’s not how it works” you mumbled sleepily, a smile on your face, but the truth was neither of you knew how it worked when you were lupine… really, anything could happen.

#captain sy #captain syverson x reader #syverson x reader #werewolf!sy #captain syverson smut

[yanderenightmare]

ooh I wanna see ua bakugo frustrate with his affection over this clueless moron, kinda like shoto, like he gives her like a flower and she's just like wuut .__.

yandere ! BAKUGO KATSUKI

Support me at KO-FI if you feel like it<3

This is so cute, I can’t. Don’t know if this is what you wanted hahahaha, but I have a weak spot for like Luna Lovegood girls, like Alice in Wonderland derpy pigtailed pastel Melanie Martinez lookin’ cupcakes. And made this still in the UA au... hope that’s ok!

goodiebag WARNINGS: slight yandere, slight dubcon theme, profanity, anxiety, hallucinations, stalking

SCARY LOVE

He felt like such a stalker, like a wolf hiding in the grass, just a disgusting waste of a human being standing and ogling her from the safe distance, far enough away that she wouldn’t care to look up, but just close enough to see the color in her eyes from where she was planted in the shade under the campus willow-tree.

Why was she so fucking cute?

Her locks knotted up into two big messy buns, big splendid pastel bows tying them both into place, one blue, the other pink, matching puffy scrunchies decorating both her wrists. Cute. Small wisps of light flowing hair falling in front of her face, tickling her nose, making it scrunch like a how bunny would every now and again. Cute. White ruffled socks reaching halfway up her leg. Cute. Her knees baring pastel-colored band-aids and small scrapes and purple bruises, in the same state her elbows were. Cute. Nimble fingers handling the book that seemed so out-of-place in its size where it weighed down heavily in her lap. She looked like such a fucking fairytale. A soft-tinted cotton-candy daydream. 

Ready to have his bloody hands fuck up everything.

Bloody hell. What the fuck is he doing?

He can’t just stand there like some lovesick freak and do nothing, simply waiting for the school-bell to sound off its alarm, making her jump up like a little bunny popping up from its rabbit-hole where she’ll struggle with carrying that ridiculous book and sit down in class only to daydream about going back outside, but not before she’ll walk past him, allowing him to smell that sweet perfume that always has his heart clenching furiously in his chest and his cock growing warm and heavy in his pants.

What is wrong with him?

He can’t be thinking of her like that. This sweet precious little flower sitting so quietly with no wish to bother anyone, so soft and sweet he bet she’d cry if she so much as stepped on an ant. He wondered if she was a crier, if she’d be this adorable little crybaby ball of sobs and wet moans beneath him. He wondered what types of sound she’d make if he shoved his cock inside her. If she’d squeal and gasp and hiccup at his size, if she’d mewl, if she’d whimper, if she’d scream.

Fuck.

He needed to calm the fuck down.

To think he would never have met her if he hadn’t been forced to sign up to that stupid side-course. To think he was so mad that he didn’t make the cut for the class about war-theory and was forced to take philosophy with a bunch of air-headed freaks instead. To think he almost didn’t meet her. To think- fuck, he’s even starting to sound like one of them fucking philosophy-ditzes.

To be or not to be, or to drool over the girl sitting beneath the willow-tree.

Maybe that’s what he should submit next time they have one of those moronic poetry sessions. Perhaps then she would look at him with interest, with surprise and even praise, maybe even reverence, mirroring the look he gives her when she stands on the podium reciting her swirling words and artful descriptions, looking as though she’s entirely in her own world, dreaming, not just speaking but preaching, preaching to him about gods he’s never heard of yet somehow always believed in.

He used to believe gods drank blood and could only be celebrated through pain, that they made creatures like him, crafted him from dragon bones and fire and everything sharp and deadly, crafting him from war for war to become war itself, to find purpose in conquering, to find worth in glory. But now… looking at this creature, this creature who celebrates life and not death through laughter and daydreams and love far away from pain, he knows he’s had it all wrong.

He’s no good with words. He never has been. Except when insulting people, then he turns into a fucking lyric. What she can do is a gift. Either that, or she’s simply just insane. Either way, he doesn’t really care. She’s still soft, a tender type of madness, sweet and small and would look so good with a couple of love-bites to crash that display of milk and cream and cotton, so fucking brilliant with his handprint marking her ass… and he’s doing it again.

Fuck.

None of that will happen if he doesn’t grow a pair and go talk to her. But he can’t just talk to her. He has nothing to say. Or he has plenty to say, but nothing she could hear. He needed to find the most straightforward approach, however… while it needed to be unmistakable or lest she misunderstand, it couldn’t be aggressive. That would frighten her and he couldn’t risk spooking her away. He couldn’t risk ruining everything. It was apparent she didn’t think too much of him except that he was an angry looking boy in her Friday-classes, he needed to prove he too could be… sweet… or at least something akin to it.

He was wrong in thinking that anything would make her look up from her book. Even as he stood a mere meter away from her, she didn’t look up, completely lost and submerged in her own world as she always was. Only when he cleared his throat did she finally lift her gaze, eyes fluttering from traveling the pages and blinked softly to look up at him.

Cute.

He forgot to say anything, with a hand reached out, fisting the air, knuckles whitening in his grip, where inside the seemingly furious hand was something to contrast his otherwise deadly red stare.

The look of puzzlement on her face was insurmountable. Her small hands giving no indication to receive whatever he was offering.

“Is this a threat?” Came her soft voice, shaking him out of the faze he’d slipped into, though quickly plunging him into another one, this time not so much anticipation but confusion.

“What? No!” The both of them simply looked at each other for a moment. Bakugo’s hand still protruding out towards her, the thing in his hand no more tempting to accept than before to the girl who was still planted, making no action to get up from her spot.

“I don’t understand…” She admitted, wondering if he perhaps wanted her seat in the shade, but wasn’t given the time to ask the question as he decided to clear things up.

“It’s a flower.”

She could see that. It was a flower ripped from its root, an otherwise healthy flower before being suffocated in Bakugo’s death-grip.

“It’s a dead flower…” She corrected, a hint of sorrow on her features and he knew he was already failing in his pursuit, wanting to make things right before they could derail even more.

“It’s pretty... like you.” That came out as even more an ominous threat he realized, indicating she’d end up like the proven pretty dead flower in his chokehold.

“Are you sure this isn’t a threat?” The fact that she felt the need to ask him not only once but twice told him all he needed to know of her thoughts regarding him. She obviously thought he was a deranged explosive beast from the Hero-course.

“Goddamn it, no, I…” He frustrated, finding it hard to arrange the words, finding it hard to even find the words. “You… You’re so… You-” She was oblivious to how much he was struggling it seemed, as her personality suddenly shifted and she jumped up, book thrown to her side rather recklessly, skirt with ruffles and all bouncy with the same vigor as her tits.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands together, eyes wide with such bright light Bakugo almost felt blinded by, it even managing to frightened him a bit. “Thank you, that’s very good to know! I’d be terrified if I was anyone but me!” His brows lifted in dawning realization, feeling safer by being calmed by the reminder of how he was talking to a ditz, a complete mental-case… though… a mental-case who’d managed to dance her way and get lost in his heart. “Pardon me for being so blunt, but I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t ask.” Preparing him for her question, she leant in just a bit more, looking at him intently. “Are you yourself today, Bakugo?”

As absurd as the question was to him, when it rolled off her tongue it nearly seemed like the most casual of things to ask someone, as though she was requesting his thoughts on the weather. And though it was the epitome of peculiar, the more he thought about it, the more he realized how appropriate the question was, because he were, in fact, not at all feeling like himself.

“… No.”

She gave a contemplative look and a hum. “Then you must be Baku-gone…” He couldn’t hold back the snort that followed her statement, again being reminded of what a complete klutz she was, something so far away from his cynical view of the world and something far more relaxing than what his fears had managed to conjure of her rejection. It seemed so ridiculous now, that he’d thought she would run away or scream, never having let himself imagine her in what he knew was her true nature, light-hearted and incapable of doing any harm, at least not on purpose. “Wow, you really must be, huh?” She continued, fishing him out of his curt chuckling. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh. Come to think of it… I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you smile.” She mused, admiring the small pleasantness stretched upon his face.

But then his brows furrowed, the happiness seeping from his features and leaving them contorted with annoyance, much to her dismay, regretting her choice of words. “I smile.” He argued, looking at her as though demanding she explain herself.

She cocked her head to the side, eyeing him, scrunching her brows and biting her lip for a second or two as though she were in deep thought, not wanting to upset him any further, though not wanting to speak without candidness. “No… you… bare teeth… like a wolf eager to catch its prey.” His ears retracted, features taken aback by her observation, finding he couldn’t quite say otherwise, though he’d never viewed it that way, but again, the more he thought about it, the more all her strange words made sense as he found them to be true. Silly of him to think his wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing approach could fool her, silly of him to think he could fool himself into believing she’d ever consider going out with someone so… predatory.

Though, minds are easily swayed, he reminded himself of. Her opinion of him wasn’t set in stone after all. “Does it scare you?” He finally asked, finding that was the only thing he was actually curious about. Though… perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing if she did fear him just a bit, because god knows how terrified he is of her and how she makes him feel as though he’s bleeding or falling or stripped of everything, cut by the knees and naked and so very needy to have her just look at him.

“I would say no, but I cannot lie.” His heart sunk upon hearing her admit it, disappointed, not sure if it was in her or in him.

She’s scared… Of course, she is scared! Who wouldn’t be? Dumb of him to think anything else.

“But, that’s rather the point isn’t it? To scare people?” She took a step forward, eyes bright and hopeful, hating to think she’d upset him.

“Not you.” It was barely above a whisper, words simply cast out there, and it left the girl looking perplexed, curious and even guilt-stricken or ashamed.

“Well… I shouldn’t fear things I know too little about… that would be silly…” She felt the urge to touch him, wanting him to truly hear her words, wanting to enforce them by touch, yet as her hands reached out to take his all so brazenly her eyes fell upon the flower again. She didn’t really have any wish to touch something dead, it always being such a cold and empty feeling running like ice through her veins, yet she reached out to receive the flower anyway, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “So, if not my fear, what is it this Bakugone wishes of me then?” She slipped on a tender smile, genuine and perfect, her soft fingertips brushing against his.

“I…” He was so focused on how she was touching him, the pressure, the elegance, the perfection, so focused he forgot the words again, so focused on her soft fingertips, her warmth, her pastel-manicured nails, he didn’t realize how the movement had stilled.

“You want to eat my heart.”

Her voice made him look up from where they were conjoined, crimson orbs dragged slowly to meet the oddity of her voice no less her words, yet as he looked, he continued to search because he found no eyes looking back at him, only whites, wide gleaming glowing void whites staring at him.

“You want to rip open my ribcage and feast.” Shaken and confused his brows twisted as he yet again tried to find her eyes. “You want to see me burst and bloom for you.” He hadn’t tried pulling his hand away, not really wanting to either, but he realized he perhaps wouldn’t be able to even if he’d wanted with how hard she was now digging her once soft fingers into his wrist. “You want to cripple me. You want to hear my deathbed confession. You want to lick the sin from my expression.” Her brows were the ones to crinkle now as she inhaled a shuddering breath, her hand shaking as she held onto him, seemingly as though her life depended on it. “You want and you’ve been wanting for so long. You want and want, there’s no end to what you want.” Her voice was now frantic, sporadic, hitched and frightened. “You want more and more and more and more and more-” She shook so much she lost her footing and tripped, staggering back and hitting the dirt with a sharp thud, knocking her out of whatever trance she’d slipped into, no more words coming thundering from her lips except for a cute little exclamation of oof, fluffy skirt puffed out around her like a jellyfish.

“What the fuck!” He shouted once she let go, flower falling to the floor, dropped in the midst of his shock and confusion as to what had happened, yet also feeling embarrassed with how she’d seemed to have caught him red-handed, and shaken with how much she knew, disturbed with how it all had been phrased, yet concerned, concerned because he knew he’d failed, he’d scared her so much she nearly melted, but somehow even more concerned with how she’d hit the ground. “I’m-” She looked up at him and he was left dumbstruck with how wide her eyes were and how full they now seemed with the return of her irises and pupils. No longer looking like wax, but like great gems or galaxies he couldn’t help but fall prey to, especially with how glossy they were, shining and glimmering and wet, wet with tears.

“No wonder you feel gone.” She suddenly mumbled, or it wasn’t exactly a mumble, but in contrast to whatever voice she spoke in before it surely seemed subdued. “Someone’s run off with your heart!” She clumsily got back to her feet, gripping his shoulders, nearly making him stagger back and fall with just how intense and vivid her actions were thrown at him. “You’re in love!” She squealed, nearly screaming it at him, before reeling herself back in, probably only now realizing how she’d attacked the boy. “Excuse me, I mean pardon, I mean I’m terribly sorry if I frightened you.” She backed away, fingers playing with each other as she tumbled through her sentence. “It’s my quirk you see. It has a habit of living its own life. I didn’t mean to spout out your desires like that, it was a total invasion of your privacy and completely rude and unethical on my side. I really am so sorry. Would you forgive me?”

Wasn’t he the one who should be apologizing to her?

He remained stunned and confused and growing even more so by the second as she spoke. “Perhaps I could make it up to you? Perhaps I can help you in your quest to retrieve your heart? Who is the thief?”

And there it was.

She was so overwhelmed she didn’t even pick up who the emotions were for.

Silly thing.

This made him ease up. He hadn’t spoiled everything yet. In fact, she seemed even more enthusiastic now than before, even more eager to talk to him and help him even. “Is it that green-haired boy? What was his name again? Something with D or M, I can’t for the life of me remember! Or perhaps it’s the floaty one? You know, the one with the big brown eyes. No! I know who it is, it’s the one with the shark teeth, and the spikey red hair-” She rambled, and even though some of her suggestions revolted him, he couldn’t bring himself to stop her when she was so… so bouncy with thrill, so cute with how her tits squeezed together in her top and jumped for him with every word that fell from those lushes pink lips that would feel so good to bite into and feel on his neck and down his chest and-

“You can help me.” He suddenly blurted, whipping her from her rambling.

“Really?!” Big eyes, filled with such expectancy and acceptance of whatever he was about to request even without a shred of knowing what. “How?” It was as though it were her life wish to help, that denying him would mean death or something even worse in her eyes.

“By making it up to me.”

His grin returned, the one that lacked… not exactly happiness, because there was still a certain glee to it, a certain enjoyment, yet lacking altruism and was instead left looking greedy and gluttonous and as though he was made up of… teeth, and only teeth, and too many teeth, and that those teeth were too sharp.

“Oh.” She seemed drained of her vigorous passion, like a light snuffed out, swallowing thickly. And though she knew it all to be in her head, knew it all to be but a figment of her fears, she still took a step back as though she’d seen something that worried her, and was quickly followed by what had worried her as Bakugo paralleled her backtracking, leaving her no further away from his hungry open-mouthed smirk.

“Kiss me.” She realized she’d backed all the way into the tree, her back meeting the hard trunk seemed to shake her from her vision as the biting image submerged and left her with a quite normal-looking Bakugo towering over her, no longer Bakugone or just a toothy grin, and she was left deciding whether it was any better or maybe even worse than what she had been picturing.

Yet, she had no time to think as Bakugo’s hand raised to cup her cheek, where in the seconds it took for him to do so, she needed to prepare herself for all his obsessive lovesick thoughts she knew would yet again flood her mind, only now she wouldn’t shake from them, and what more, now she knew who they were about. Poor thing had taken Bakugo’s heart without knowing, without knowing to prepare for Bakugo’s blood-stained scarred hand to reach into her chest and hold her own terror-wide heart in a chokehold as he too took it for himself. Without knowing how to protect herself from his many sharp teeth that would steal and eat to satiate what livid hungry fire, what desperate thirst she’d awoken inside his heart, to relieve the pain of it all, to finally breath again, to find safety, to find belonging, to find life. And she had no way of preparing for it, no way of protecting herself from it, no way of hiding from Bakugo’s sharp teeth… but when his hand, his calloused sandpaper-textured palm handled her cheek she was met with a new image, a soft-tinted mellow yet dramatic rhapsodic fire, one that she rather cherished than feared, one that she felt like chasing, one that seemed like it was calling her.

Bakugo leaned in slowly, as though asking for permission, receiving no complaints, just a set of large eyes staring at him. Her hands, feeling as though their fingertips had plunged deep into the bark of the tree behind her, ripped loose to touch him, feeling the simmering plethora of brutally violent passions swimming beneath them as they hovered on top of his skin. Tasting it on her tongue as he captured her soft lips with his own stiff ones. She could taste the hunger, the teeth, the longing, the pain, the fire, the waiting and time he’d suffered in the darkness all alone, she could taste the war, but more… she could taste the fear, the fear of losing or not having at all, and at the very tip of her tongue, stronger than anything else, she caught it, the flavor crystalized like sugar… hope… love.

Support me at KO-FI if you feel like it<3

#bakugo #bakugou #katsukibakugou #bakugou katsuki #Katsuki Bakugō #yandere bakugo katsuki #katsuki #yandere katsuki #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki bnha #bakugou imagine #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #yandere #yandere bakugou #yandere bnha #yandere bakugo #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere mha

[mmvalentine]

Pomegranate pt 4 | Feysand

Hades/ Persephone inspired AU. We gettin spicy now. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Hybern have slipped into the mortal lands, and will any day now be at the wall.

The wall has always been the weak point of Pythian, and the Spring Court holds the south most border. After gathering as much information as he can, Rhys sends word to Tamlin.

The first attempt is a letter, which goes unanswered. Rhys waits for hours, until he cannot wait anymore. The second attempt is to send Mor, but by afternoon she returns. She was not granted an audience with the High Lord.

“Gods fucking damn it,” Rhys roars when she tells him. She doesn’t flinch, just looks worried. “Tamlin you stupid fucking prick,” Rhys mutters. He has started pacing. It is one thing for Hybern to attack another court. It is one thing for Hybern to breach Prythian. It is one thing for war to be on their doorstep.

It is another to endanger Feyre.

“I’ll go myself,” Rhys growls.

“Careful,” Mor says. “If you go in there all hot-headed, you’ll only give him a reason to start a fight.”

Rhys gnashes his teeth in frustration, but eventually nods his acknowledgement. Mor bites her lip, bows her head, then leaves him. Rhys takes a deep breath in through his nose, rolls his shoulders, and then winnows onto the steps of Tamlin’s manor.

It’s been a very long time since he has been on this doorstep.

Once, years ago, his father brought him, wanting him to have experience of a High Lords’ meeting. Rhys had known Tamlin had a daughter, but on that day she was nowhere to be seen. Rhys wonders idly how much of her life Feyre has spent locked in her room.

He strolls through the great doors, not bothering to wait for Tamlin to deny him entry. As he walks, he shoves his hands into his pockets, and listens to the chatter of the minds of the house residents. He does not look for Feyre’s. Doesn’t want the distraction.

Rhys finds Tamlin in the study, and leans against the doorframe.

“Afternoon,” he says in greeting. Tamlin’s face twists at the sight of him.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d grind your bones if you ever came back here?” he says. Rhys just looks at his nails.

“You did,” he said, “but I’m in an altruistic mood, for some reason.”

“What are you jabbering about, boy?” Tamlin snarls. Rhys pushes off the door frame and looks him in the eye.

“Hybern,” he says. Tamlin snorts.

“Not this again.”

“Tamlin. My spies are never wrong. Hybern is moving against Prythian as we speak, and you need to be ready.”

“I don’t take orders from whelps,” Tamlin growls.

“Fine,” Rhys says cooly. “Do what you want. I only thought you’d be interested in the preservation of your own lands, or your people, or your daughter for that matter. I shouldn’t be so presumptuous.” Tamlin growls again, but Rhys looks bored.

“You dare speak of her,” he begins.

“Calm down old man,” Rhys says. “I just wanted to come here in person, so that I could be assured that when Hybern attacks and the Spring Court falls, you knew it was happening and you let it.”

“What do you care?” Tamlin spits. “You only rule a savage court, you’ve never spared a thought for another in all your life.”

“Yes,” Rhys says simply. “And if we’re worried, so probably should you be.”

“Leave. Now.” Tamlin pounds the desk as he speaks. Rhys just shrugs.

“As you wish.” He sketches a bow from the waist, and exits the room.

But he doesn’t walk out of the manor.

Rhys folds himself into the shadows, and climbs the grand staircase without anyone noticing him. Feyre’s bedroom door is locked, of course, but he he shimmers through the wood without much effort.

“I know I should have knocked,” he says, “but I’m not looking I swear.”

“Rhys!”

“Can I come in?”

Feyre laughs, soft as eiderdown, and pulls his hands from his eyes.

“Yes,” she says. “Thank you for asking.”

“I would have asked from outside,” Rhys tells her, drawing her into his arms, “but that would have ruined the whole sneaking around thing I’ve got going here.”

Feyre stands up on her toes to kiss him. Rhys sighs over her lips, and the taste of her soothes his soul.

“Are you okay?” she asks. Rhys chuckles.

“I’m not the one being kept prisoner in my own bedroom.”

“You look tired.”

“I haven’t slept the last couple of days.”

Feyre touches his cheek and he leans into her palm. “Well come lie down then,” she says, and turns toward the bed by Rhys stops her.

“Feyre,” he says. “I have to tell you something. It’s important.”

Feyre’s eyes darken with concern, but she tugs him forward and he gets on the bed with her. They lie on their sides facing each other, and Feyre touches his chin.

“What is it?” she asks. Rhys folds her fingers into his.

“For a long time now, Hybern has been looking to expand its territory,” he tells her. “I have reason to believe- I am sure, they are now gathering in the mortal lands, and plan to attack Prythian from the south.”

“The south… is us,” Feyre says, eyes widening in understanding.

“Yes,” Rhys says. “I have tried to tell Tamlin but he won’t listen. I’m starting to think that if I told him the sky was blue he’d disagree, just because it was me saying it.”

“That’s probably true,” Feyre admitted. “So… what do we do?” Rhys lifted their entwined hands and kissed her fingers.

“I want you to know that I won’t let anything happen to you. The Night Court is ready and willing to send aid. Tamlin won’t hear me. Could you try to convince him to let us help?”

Feyre exhaled heavily. “Well, he doesn’t listen to me either. But of course, I’ll talk to him.”

Rhys kisses her knuckles again, on both hands. “Thank you,” he says.

“Rhys? What if doesn’t agree to it? What if he doesn’t listen?”

Rhys slides a hand under her hair, and his thumb strokes her jaw. “We’ll come anyway,” he says. “And I am finally going to get you out of here. Okay?”

“Okay,” Feyre says, and her voice is small with worry. Rhys kisses her until the tension slides from her shoulders.

“Rhys?” she says.

“Yeah honey?”

“I love you too.”

Rhys quirks a smile, and kisses both her cheeks and then her nose.

“I love you too, too.” He kisses her mouth then, and she wriggles closer to him. Rhys slides an arm under her and rubs his fingertips against the is of her skull.

It is so easy to forget wars and jailers when Feyre is touching him.

Feyre’s bare feet press into his ankles, and Rhys slides a hand down the outside of her thigh. The silk is cool beneath his fingers, and there’s a split in the fabric just above her knee. He catches her calf and hitches it over his hip as he keeps kissing her, and she squeezes him closer with her leg while his hand strokes her ankle.

“Are there flowers in the Night Court?” Feyre murmurs between kisses. Rhys smiles against her lips.

“Yes,” he says. “And the most wonderful fruits.”

Feyre’s hands are sliding up his chest now, fumbling with the fastenings in his shirt. She nips his bottom lip, and he licks the back of her teeth.

“Don’t they need sunlight to grow?”

Rhys laughs. “Feyre darling, we have just as much sunlight as you do.” His hand on her ankle has slid back up her calf, and is now curving around the underside of her thigh above her knee. The cream coloured dress is pushed further up her legs.

“But it’s always Spring here,” she says. She’s found the hem of his shirt and her hands have slipped beneath it. They are warm on his stomach.

“Well it’s not always night in the Night Court,” he assures her, and moves his lips to her throat. Feyre tips her head back to give him better access.

“Why?” she gasps.

“Because,” Rhys murmurs, trailing kisses down her neck, “things need to grow. And we need the warmth.” His hand on her leg is moving again, and cups her backside now. “And because no amount of power in the world stops the sun from rising.”

He kisses her mouth before she can ask any follow up questions, and the taste of her moan is so sweet it makes his head spin.

Rhys presses Feyre onto her back, and his hand on her ass slides around to her hip. His other arm is still behind her, and he massages his fingers in the back of her head. Feyre tugs at his hair, and he pushes her skirts further up so he can stroke her from knee to hip. Feyre shivers under his touch as his thumb skirts her inner thigh.

“Touch me,” she whispers, and Rhys’s hand tightens on her thigh before it dips between her legs.

Feyre’s hands fall from his neck and grab a hold of the sheets. Rhys watches her eyes flutter closed as he moves his fingers again, lightly over the cotton of her underwear. He slips beneath the waistband, and Feyre’s back arches up off the bed. He bites down on his own moan- Feyre is so wet on his fingers.

“Gods Feyre,” he breathes. He slides his hand down over her pussy before circling lightly against her clit. Feyre bites down on her lip and makes sure to stay quiet. Rhys thinks he’s never been so turned on as he is as he watches her writhe on his hand. He’s circling faster now, and sucks against her nipple through her dress. Never taking his eyes off her face.

“Don’t let anyone hear,” he reminds her softly, just as he pushes his index finger deep inside her. Feyre grabs the front of his shirt and kisses him hard, as she begins to fuck herself on his hand. Rhys grinds the heel of his palm against her clit as she does, and his other hand makes a fist in her hair.

“You are so fucking gorgeous,” he tells her. “I just wanna make you feel good.” He adds a second finger, and can’t help but imagine what she’d feel like if she was rocking on his cock like she was on his hand. Feyre’s nails scrabble at his chest, and her eyes meet his only momentarily before rolling back in her head.

“Do you feel good Feyre?” he asks her. She nods, mouthing words but not making any sound. “Can you come like this?” he whispers. Her hands tighten in his shirt and she’s struggling to draw breath. “That’s it,” he says. “Don’t make a sound, just come on my fingers.”

And she does. Her lips move silently, and her hips bow up off the bed. It takes Rhys a minute to realise she’s mouthing his name.

Feyre tightens around his hand as she climaxes, and when she finally comes down, she looks so peaceful. Rhys gives himself another moment to watch her, and then kisses her softly.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he whispers. Feyre’s eyes open into his, and waves crash in her gaze. He put his fingers in his mouth, kisses her again, and then disappears like smoke.

****

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars @fandomstalker27 @realbookloverproblems @dealfea @s-tormwitch @cretaceous-therapod @whenyadoesntcutit @scatterbrainedgirl @tanvee1231

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #mine #smut

[guardianofthepeanutwrites]

Skirts and dresses Part 4

Part1, Part 2, Part 3 and Part 5

Tag list: @purplefreakwolffish  @mayucerise​

This chapter is for @sarcastich​​ and @starkeraddictbaby​

Thanks to Gypsywoman13 for beta-reading!

CW: genderfluid Loki, Kinda asshole Thor

PeterParkerBingo2021: square Pet Names (card below)

Thor & Loki

Because Peter had been fairly young when he moved inside the compound, they had put his room next to Tony’s quarters since he was the one in charge of their youngest member. Then one day a door appeared in the middle of his room, connecting it to the Stark’s private quarters. They had a long discussion about boundaries: “Ask before putting doors in my bedroom” and “don’t threaten people because they hurt me” etc. Tony had argued it was easier (it was, but that was not the question) because they spend more and more time together. Which was true. 

Tony and Pepper had started to teach Peter some things about business practice. They took him to smaller meetings and introduced him as Tony’s intern; it suited Peter very much. That, plus his patrols, as well as other Avenger business, like training, and his new business classes...Peter was now even busier than he already was.

Except on Sundays. Sundays were days Peter could rest, sleep, visit his aunt May, hang with Ned and MJ, and watch movies with Bucky the other Avengers.

Every Sunday morning, before leaving their quarters, Peter and Tony would eat the most decadent brunch that Peter would let Tony buy him. From all the changes that happened in his life since he got adopted by Tony Stark, Sunday brunches were certainly Peter’s favorites. He loved those calm moments with the man that he admired so much. He also loved that he could put on whatever clothes he wanted because FRIDAY would only let people in the know enter.

That Sunday, they were finishing their meal when Steve entered. He briefly stopped at the soft pink hoodie, gray and pink plaid skirt, and long white socks Peter was wearing before dismissing it and greeting the two men.

“So, Steve, what can we do for you?” Tony asked, forgoing the pleasantries. Peter knew Tony hated being interrupted during Sunday brunches, and saw that Steve started to move from one leg to the other, a bit nervous. Peter frowned.

“Oh, I-I mean, I wanted to apologize for-” Peter tried to interrupt Steve, he had told him many times that Steve was forgiven, but the man was stubborn and didn’t let him talk. “I know, you already told me, but I- I made this for you.” Steve gave Peter a piece of paper. 

On the paper was a beautiful drawing of Peter in the purple dress that he had been wearing when Steve had discovered his secret. Peter was startled out of his stunned silence when his dad gently took the paper from his hands.

Tony simply whistled when he saw the drawing. “Aunt Peggy had told me you could draw, Rogers, but this is something else.” Steve looked at Tony, in shock.

“Au-Aunt Peggy? But you-you weren’t-” 

Tony snorted, irked. “I went to her grave later, Rogers, because there was an emergency, and if there was something Aunt Peggy could understand, it was emergencies. She was Howard’s friend, and my godmother.” Peter, who had been told the story, silently stroked his dad’s back in support as he continued. “We also fought a lot when you came back.” Steve opened his mouth to speak, but Tony didn’t let him. “Not that it’s any of your business, Capsicle, but who do you think covered the truth about Howard’s death? Who do you think had enough power for that? Peggy Carter. She let me think my father killed my mom because he was a fucking alcoholic.”

Steve looked as if he had swallowed a lemon, grimacing. “I didn’t know. I am sorry, Tony.”

Tony lifted his hand. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” He lifted the paper with Steve’s drawing on it, looking at it pensively. “You’re very talented. We should make you an art studio. There is an empty room with great lighting.” Tony turned to Peter to watch him. “What d’you think kid? Wanna design it?” 

Peter felt excited to be offered this opportunity; he nodded with way too much enthusiasm. It made Tony smile, proud.

“You’re gonna make some blueprints, and we will see with the Captain what he needs and likes. No, Cap, don’t argue, it will be good training for the kid. Now, Steve, if you don’t mind, I was having brunch with my kid.”

Peter only had 30 seconds to thank Steve for the drawing and promise him he would make the best art studio there was before Steve left. After Brunch, Peter framed the drawing and put it on his shelf with the piece of his first skirt and the picture of his dad in a dress.

--

Later that day, while Peter and Tony were looking at a movie, before heading out for a diner with Aunt May, someone crashed into their quarters through the window.

Tony was ready to fight in seconds; his watch changed into a piece of armor around his right fist, while his left arm pushed Peter behind him, only to find that it was Thor, son of Odin, that had crashed on the ground. Peter couldn’t help but find it kind of cute that his dad would try to protect Peter with his body when Peter could take the most damage.

“For fuck’s sake, Point Break, what the ever-loving fuck?” Tony let the gauntlet recede back into his watch and put his hand on his heart. “I have a heart condition, you know? And we have doors. FRI, baby, tell everyone in the compound there is no immediate emergency. Put the compound in code orange until further notice,” Tony turned to look at Peter, seeing the pink skirt, the hoodie, and the panicked glances his kid was giving, then added, “Tell them there is no need to come and lock the quarters immediately.” 

Peter relaxed some and started to play with the hem of his skirt. 

“I apologize, Man of Iron. It seems like I missed the door.” Thor stood up from where he had crashed, and he opened his arms to hug Tony. “It has been too long my friend. How are you doing?” Tony frowned, but he let the god hug him. 

After they separated, Tony started to give instructions to FRIDAY for the reparations while Thor turned to look at Peter. There were a few seconds where Thor paused to take in how Peter was dressed before he widened his eyes.

Before Peter could react, Thor bowed deeply before speaking. “Good day, Lady Peter.” 

Peter winced. Why would he be a lady? Just because he was wearing a skirt?

“I-I, no, Thor. I-I am a man.” Peter hated how his voice shivered. 

Thor righted himself, beaming at Peter as if nothing had just happened. “Good, how are you doing Man of Spiders?” 

Peter looked at the god, completely lost by what had just happened. “I-I am fine? Thank you, mister Thor,” Peter said with a small voice. 

The god nodded happily. “I am happy to hear that.” Thor promptly turned to Tony. “Man of Iron, I am in great need of a favor.” 

Tony scowled looking at the damage. “Is it more important than repairing the hole in my wall?” 

Thor’s face became serious in a blink, making Peter shiver. “I am afraid it is really important, my friend,” Thor said in a deep voice. 

--

The meeting had been going on for hours, and Peter was exhausted. 

Thor wanted their help to get some information out of his brother Loki. The Asgardians had a reason to think that Loki hadn’t been the one behind the invasion and could even have been a victim of the scepter like Barton and the others, but Loki wouldn’t talk. Thor hoped that maybe someone on Earth could help them because they had tried everything.

The news was welcomed by an uproar, led by Hawkeye and Fury, and had calmed down after Thor had explained that if his fears were correct, there was something worse coming to Earth. He also promised that they wouldn’t need to bring Loki for them to interrogate him and that there was a magic mirror they could use to talk to him.

It was decided the mirror would be locked in Tony’s lab, the most secure room at the compound.

However, they all forgot Peter had unlimited access to the room.

--

The first time Peter saw Loki, Peter was walking along the glass walls of the main lab. He could see Natasha and Maria Hill looking frustrated at a mirror. In the mirror, there was a gorgeous woman with long, raven black hair; she had piercing green eyes, green lipstick, and she was wearing a stunning, black leather dress. 

If Peter hadn’t been gay, and stupidly in love attracted to Bucky, he knew that he could have fallen for this beautiful lady.

Then his brain started to work again and realization clicked: The woman was Loki. Loki was wearing (and rocking) a dress. He looked like a woman, but how? When she/he/the God of Mischief saw Peter, they winked. Peter startled and simply walked faster to the B-Lab where Bruce was waiting for him.

--

Peter couldn’t get Loki out of his mind. The God didn’t look uncomfortable wearing a dress or looking like a woman in front of his enemies. 

After some days, Peter decided to go to the main source of information about Loki: Thor.

“Oh, yes, Loki sometimes, uhm, switches? Mother always said to respect the gender he looks like, but you know that Loki is my brother, so it was difficult at first.” Thor massaged his neck, uneasy. “But then, Loki started to play vicious pranks on the people who would call him a man when he was dressed like a woman. So, I learned to, uh, call Loki a lady when he wears a dress.”

And then Peter understood. “That's why you called me a lady the other day!” 

Thor nodded. “But luckily you don’t ask me to call you a woman.” 

Peter frowned. “Why do you say luckily? I mean, I don’t think there is anything wrong with asking someone to call you a woman if… you feel like a woman?” Thor, confused, looked at Peter and was about to reply, but Tony (since when had he been in the room?) answered first, making Peter and Thor startle.

“No, there is nothing wrong, Peter. Loki is genderfluid, which means that they don’t identify themself as having a fixed gender.” Tony, who was at the door, walked into the room and up to Peter. “We asked Loki and he said you could use the pronouns depending on what he looks like. It’s easier because Loki is a shifter, and can change depending on his moods. But if you ever meet another genderfluid person, you can just ask them what gender they identify with at that moment.” 

Peter nodded. It made sense. 

Thor looked a bit crushed when he started to speak again. “So, it’s not only Loki?” Tony simply shook his head. “Oh. I think I need to talk to my br-Loki.” With those words, the god left the room.

--

Peter did some research about genders - Tony helped - and he concluded that he was a man that liked to cross-dress and that there was nothing wrong with that. Peter had felt very loved that his dad, who was always so busy, had taken the time to explain all of those terms to Peter until they found the ones that felt right.

But Peter was a curious person, and it was what led him to be bitten by a radioactive spider in the first place... Peter wanted to talk to Loki. He wanted to talk about the dress, and about being genderfluid. He knew that the god was not a good being, but Loki was already in prison. What could go wrong?

--

“The mighty Avengers are sending me a child, now? Interesting.” Loki’s bitter words made Peter flinch. Peter silently closed the door behind him, before he entered the lab.

“No. I- I mean, I am an Avenger, but they didn’t send me.” Peter nervously played with the plaid shirt he was wearing that day.

“Then why are you here?” 

Peter lifted his head and looked directly at Loki for the first time. He noted that Loki was in a male form. 

“I learned that you are genderfluid. I- I just wanted to talk.” 

Loki’s face softened a little bit. “Oh, yes. People of Midgard have been strangely open-minded about it.” His face then hardened again. “What do you want? Do you want to see the shift? Do you want me to become a female?” 

Peter winced. 

“What? No! Only if it’s what you want. But, no, who would want you to do that? You’re not some kind of animal.” Peter was horrified, just thinking about it. Loki huffed but said nothing, watching Peter with piercing eyes. Peter took a deep breath and gathered his courage. “I-I like to wear dresses. It is called cross-dressing here.” 

Loki looked at Peter like he was analyzing Peter’s very soul. “Why are you telling me this, human?” he seemed perplexed.

“I saw you in that dress the last time, and you were gorgeous. I mean, that dress, it looked like it had been made just for you.” Peter couldn’t contain the excitement in his voice. Loki raised an eyebrow, but Peter could see that he was fighting a smile.

“That would be because it was crafted for me. I am a prince of Asgard, little one.” The reply was unexpected, and Peter felt his eyes open with shock that was rapidly replaced by glee.

“Oh yes, my da- Mr. Stark let a tailor come to the tower, and he wanted to tailor some things, but I wasn't ready yet. Mr. Stark said that the man could come back later. ” 

Loki didn’t fight his smile this time.

“And why weren’t you ready, yet, dear?”

--

Peter and Loki talked a big part of the night until Peter started to yawn too much, then Loki sent him to his room. As days went on, after his patrol and doing some homework, Peter visited every night to talk about stuff with Loki.

--

“By the Norns! Dear Spider, why would you not simply tell the man that you want him?” Loki asked, sitting against the wall of his prison.

“What? No! He doesn’t feel that way about me,” Peter answered stubbornly while painting his nails with a green nail polish that had been approved by Loki.

“You won’t know until you try, dear.” Peter shrugged and changed the subject.

--

Of course, after a visit one night, they were discovered. While Tony and Natasha (and Bucky) hadn’t been really happy about it, there was nothing they could do or say to change Peter’s mind.

--

“You what?” Peter asked, dumbfounded.

“I stabbed the mongrel,” Loki answered, way too smugly if you asked Peter.

“Because he slapped your ass? Isn’t that a bit extreme?”

“Oh my sweet, sweet, little Spider. If you let men get away with unwanted touching, they will think it is alright to do it again and again. No one should dare touch a lady like that without consequences.” Loki played with the knife that had been in his hand since they started to talk that day.

“Yes, but still, Thor is your brother.” Peter never had had a sibling, but if he had, he wouldn’t have stabbed them, for sure.

“After that, neither Thor, nor any of the savages he called ‘friends’, ever touched me without my consent.” The smile Loki sent his way made Peter shiver.

“Yeah, ok, fair.” The god did heal fast, so Peter guessed that it was okay-ish.

--

Peter had been surprised when a raven had given Peter two identical letters one morning after breakfast. He was even more surprised when the letters ended up being Loki’s complete confession. One had been addressed to ‘The Mighty Avengers’ and the other to ‘Sweet Spider’. 

Loki explained how he had fallen into Thanos’ lap after the destruction of the rainbow bridge; he mentioned the torture, the scepter, and how the beating that the Hulk gave him had helped him evade his conditioning. He also laid out Thanos' strengths and weaknesses, including how and when to beat him.

At the end, Loki wrote that he would never have written his confession if it weren’t for Peter. 

Peter then took the last page, where Loki had drawn them both and had it framed to be placed on his beloved shelf.

#peterparkerbingo2021 #thor odinson #loki laufeyson #peter parker #winterspider #5+1 things #still 6+1 tho #fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #skirts and dresses

[katsukisbimbo]

DDAENG

✯ pairing: hawks x reader

✯ genre: FLUFFYYDS!!

✯ summary: fan! hawks meeting his newly debuted idol crush y/n at a fansign!

✯wordcount: 2.1k+

✯warning: just swearing and hawks being thirsty <3

✯ note: this literallt came to me because i was trying to turn @hoodtoshi into a bts stan (lowkey succeeded) and i was jus like yea, thirsty hawks

-ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛--ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛--ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥

- you were nervous

- this was your first fan meet after all,, but you were still nervous

- you were only 19 and had already debuted!!

- that didn’t happen to just anyone!!

- you worked super hard to get to where you are today!! everyone knew that!!

- you sighed as your make-up artist continued to paint your lips a dark red colour

- you honestly didn’t look like yourself, but this was to keep up the whole idol image i guess

- “jinhee, how many people are outside? i’m sure only two people came to see me..” you pouted, resulting in your make-up artist to smack your cheek lightly

- “dOn’t say that you dummy! i’m sure a lot of people came to see you!” she scolded, wiping off the excess makeup on a towel

- “now get out, you’re done”

- “i don’t wanna”

- she raised a newspaper and flexed, ready to beat the fuck out of you if she heard another whisper of self-deprecation from you

- “fine! i’m going!” you grumbled, pouting at oncoming soreness of your feet from your heels

- why did idols have to wear heels anyway?

- okay no, you knew why, but sTill!! they sucked!

- you smiled as you saw the buffet table

- one little snack wouldn’t hurt

- >:)

- “keigo stop fuckign puSHING”

- “im so EXCITED!! i’m meeting THE y/n you SLUTBAG!!” keigo yelled as he shook his companion

- dabi sometimes questioned why he was still friends with keigo

- “i SEE that you asshole”

- keigo took this opportunity to punch dabi in the arm, causing dabi to retaliate, causing kEigo to retaliate, causing dAb-

- okay so

- “i’ve been in love with her ever since she debuted!! and she debuted ALONE!! a whole solo artist!! the talent!! the beauty!! i’m in love!!”

- dabi raised a brow at his friend

- “didn’t you tweet about wanting to ‘put a baby inside of her’?”

- keigo felt his cheeks heat up at the possibility of you seeing his indecent tweets about you

- what if you had seen? what if you think he’s a creep? what if you already hated him??

- keigo felt his anxiety creep onto his shoulders as he continued to overthink, not realizing that they were already next to go in

- ruh roh raggy

- keigo didn’t know anything BUT anxiety

- rip keigo we’ll miss you big daddy :,(

- “please come in, please don’t shout”

- whO was shouting?? nobody was shouting

- keigo wasn’t gonna shout

- as keigo was about to shout, he felt himself be silenced by his partner

- all keigo could feel was betrayal

- “calm down you hot dog, you’re going to TALK to her in person jfc. you can tell her how much you want to father her children then”

- it was almost time and you were STILL at the food table

- you saw a small intern approach you with an uneasy look on her face

- she was for sure about to reprimand you

- “m-ms. y/n,, we have to go now!” she stuttered

- she was sO! cute you just couldn’t say no

- so you decided to just sneak a few bags of chips under your skirt before smiling and quickly following her

- you made your way to the stage, peeking behind the curtains

- you saw a huge crowd of people, mostly males, but one man who sat near the front caught your eye

- he had bright yellow eyes with matching blond hair, even wearing some eyeliner

- the unknown male looked absolutely delectable

- he made you bark a little tbh

- you took a deep breath before you were pushed by your manager on the stage, cheers suddenly reaching your ears as your fans confessed their love for you

- quit shamelessly might you add

- you blushed as you watched the cute blond-haired man cup his hands around his mouth and yell—

- “I LOVE YOU Y/N! IM YOUR NUMBER ONE FAN!” he yelled, gaining the attention of everyone in the room

- soon everyone started to yell that they were your biggest fan and that the blond man could never even compare

- but the man had nothing but a satisfied smirk plastered on his handsome face

- did he enjoy starting riots?

- you sat on the chair, placing your hands on top of the table

- this was a small table ngl

- luckily there was a sheet on the table, hiding your nervously bouncing legs

- just imagine watching a fancam of you bouncing your leg

- people would still thirst for that

- anyway

- “thank you guys for coming! i’m so excited to meet you all!” you started, smiling at the large number of people

- “you guys can ask me questions or some things? i don’t know?” you laughed, feeling slightly awkward

- you didn’t know how to be a person

- “can you do a dance for us!!” a young boy, about the age of 7 yelled, jumping up and down in front of his seat

- “what dance?” you queried, raising your brow in curiosity

- “move by taemin!!” he cheered, immediately dancing

- you laughed at his adorable actions

- you were totally gonna dance for him!

- you got up as the music started to play in the background, moving to the side of the table and sensually moving to the beat while the audience watched intently

- you carefully moved your hips, hitting all the right beats

- this wasn’t any different than dancing in front of the camera people, plus you had to get used to an audience

- it also wasn’t any different from how you had to dance to kpop songs from when you were younger for your family!!

- (no, literally. the amount of times i had to dance to 2NE1’s i am the best, girls generation’s gee, and wonder girls’ nobody. the dances are engraved in my head. 6 year old giri had to dance or else)

- as the song faded out, you held your pose before bowing, smiling at the little boy who continued to hype you up

- “holy fuck.. dabi that was hot” hawks whispered, tightening his grip around his friends sleeve

- “jeez kei, ease up a bit” dabi complained, prying his friends hand off of him

- “oh my god she’s such a great dancer, do you think she’ll like me if i learn how to dance too?” he questioned, grabbing his friend by the front of his shirt, pissing dabi off once more

- “no. not if you don’t stop being a fuckinf weirdo”

- hawks pouted

- dabi grinned

- how cruel

- “does anyone else have a request?”

- “WAP!!” a number of people yelled, resulting in your face heating up

- how would they suggest such a lewd dance!

- especially when there were children here!

- “haha! that doesn’t seem very appropriate!” you laughed it off, trying your best to mask your uncomfortableness

- hopefully this would end soon

- “no! can you dance to gashina please!” a girl yelled, catching your attention

- hm, gashina was actually a very good suggestion

- you could do this! you could be as great as sunmi!

- okay maybe no. sunmi was a god <3

- you did the routine, catching the eyes and the hearts of the audience

- “fuck i think i’m in love dabi” hawks whined, clutching his chest

- he had a lovesick expression plastered on his face

- he was totally whipped for you, no doubt about it

- before you knew it, it was time for the fans to have a minute to speak to you and for them to get their albums signed!

- you had recently debuted with your album, dawn in tokyo

- you had taken inspiration from the time where you had left your hotel at dawn and walked around the streets of tokyo, sitting near a bridge and writing lyrics for some of the songs in the album

- hence the name of the album

- most of your album was written in japan

- hawks felt himself get more excited as he came closer to you, holding tightly to the fabric of his friends jacket, which wouldn’t surely gotten him slapped if you weren’t so near

- before he knew it, he was already next in line, dabi already sitting in front of your figure while holding your soft, delicate looking hand in his large ugly ones

- this made hawks’ chest bubble with jealousy

- >:(

- sure, you had a large fan base, but it still hurt to see people touch you the way he wanted to

- it was now his turn, he walked up the stairs with his wobbly knees, wanting to just sit and be near you

- he knew that you would be able to calm his nerves, or make him spontaneously combust

- “hey! i’m y/n! nice to meet you!” you smiled, out-stretching your hand to him, offering to place your hand in his own

- he swiftly, but gently grasped your hand, before placing it on his cheek, letting you hold the soft chub of his cheek

- no fan had been this brave to do this. it was quite surprising to be honest

- he wasn’t breaking any rules so you decided to fuck it and go with it

- you placed both your hands on his cheeks, slightly squishing them together, causing him to adorably pout

- “dash not nishe” he mumbled, brows furrowing

- you laughed before letting go of his face, bringing your hands back to your side of the table

- “you’re so cute! can i sign your album for you?” you smiled, tilting your head to the side

- hawks just..dieded

- mans said peace out

- your beauty was incomprehensible

- phew, he had to get his shit together! he was trying to impress u! he wanted to be the mc in a wattpad story

- we all wanna be y/n

- anywayss

- “sure dove! u can make it out to keigo, u can put your number in it too ;)” he winked

- KDNDHSK

- DID HE—

- DID HE JUST ASK FOR YOUR NUMBER

- LIKE—

- nobody:

- y/n: i’m not gon do it girl.. i’m just thinking about it

- “ah! sorry cutie! i’m not allowed to share my number :333”

- you tried to laugh as you died inside

- he smiled, before placing a kiss on your fingertips

- “don’t worry dove,i respect that” he winked

- BARK BARK

- “i have some gifts for you!” he announced, placing the huge paper bag on top of the table

- he first pulled out your favourite snack before handing it to you

- how did he get these??

- omg

- then, he brought out a bottle of perfume, and a new song writing notebook!

- this was great!!

- “oh my gosh! keigo! you’re too sweet” you cooed,

- this was a lot

- “i also have something else.. would you wear this flower crown for me and do some fan-service?” he queried

- of course you would!

- you nodded before placing the flower crown on top of your head

- “what do you want me to say?”

- “say.. i’ll be a good dove for hawks. is that okay?” he smirked, tracing small circles into the palm of your hands

- w-wHAT

- was this legal

- your managers were literally ignoring you—

- “o-oh! sure! uhm-“

- god you were going to regret this

- “i-i’ll be a good dove for hawks!” you whimpered, showing off your practiced aegyo

- “ahhh! my heart!” he gasped, dramatically clutching his chest

- “excuse me, we need the next fan to come up” you manager tapped the both of your arms

- you nodded before smiling at hawks and waving goodbye

- you were going to miss him :((

- ig it just wasn’t meant to be

- the night you had gotten home, you decided to go through your gifts

- you were particularly interested in the gift you had gotten from the blond man

- it was really sweet of him to get you a notebook

- the moment you had opened it, you had noticed that something was written on the first page

- ‘xxx-xxx-xxxx call me pretty girl <3’

- he was a bold onealright

- you were contemplating on actually calling him

- he could leak your number!

- well, you could just wait for him to speak

- fuck it

- you dialed the number on your phone and waited as it rang

- “hello?”

- “i-is this keigo?”

- “hey dove, i’m glad you called”

- y/n: i did it :33

#hawks x y/n #hawks x you #hawks x reader #hawks fluff #takami keigo x y/n #my hero academia keigo takami #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo x you #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #boku no hero academia #mha x you #mha x y/n #mha x reader #mha fluff #my hero academia #hawks #takami keigo #takami keigo fluff #x reader #reader insert #fluff #imagine #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons

[timothy-chamlet]

the afterparty - t.c. fanfic

pair: timmy x female reader

warnings: unprotected sex, general smut

word count: 2.6k (2640)

a//n: ok er ive never written for timmy before so im nervous snsvsj but if you read it tell me what u think !! <3

°•○●○•°

people often thought the two of you were dating. paparazzi tended to make it look that way through press. despite all the candid photos of you and timothée plastered in magazine spreads and floating around on blogs, he would tell people you weren't together. interviewers would ask, and time again he would put an end to the rumor by saying you weren't dating, you were just friends. 

to be fair, you honestly couldn't even be mad at him. it was a good marketing tactic, at least. if all the girls knew he was single they'd still be invested in the persona of a young, attractive starlet that - despite his more than desirable qualities - is still single. genius. meanwhile you were being his best friend and his trophy for award shows. 

it was growing on you though. you enjoyed walking red carpet events and going to extravagant parties and meeting big names in the industry. it was really a win-win for both of you. 

another one of those win-win situations was tonight. the past three days had been crazy. hair appointments, nail appointments, dress fittings, photoshoots, brunches, and dinners. running each new day on an hour of sleep - maybe two if you were lucky. fueled by energy drinks and the promise of rest after the event. showing up to an awards ceremony on nothing more than a 20 minute nap and a double shot espresso. being timothée's showpiece was exhausting. but it was good for you. 

you had just finished your last consultation for dress fittings and were on your way to your styling appointment. the dress would arrive shortly after you so everything was ready to go. things were set for timothée to meet you there in an hour or so, after his own styling. 

currently you're getting your makeup done. a swarm of professionals all around you, handing products, giving directions, telling you how gorgeous you look, at least three hands on you at all times. after almost an hour all the disembodied hands move from your face to reveal the *almost* finished product. you still need your hair done, but your face was flawless. your skin was insanely smooth; not a pore in sight, your lids were a bronze shade, and your lips were a perfect nude. 

a hair stylist soon steps into view, also admiring your makeup before diving into your hair. it was simple. a slicked back ponytail is all, careful not to draw away from your face and your dress. 

the strong aroma of hairspray clouds you as you maneuver to step into your dress. stripped of your previous clothes, you step into your dress and a couple people help you pull it up. the woman attending to the supper in the back steps away for a moment, seeming to answer a question. 

"what's his name?" she asks into her ear piece. "uh yes. she's in here with me. send him in."  

she returns behind you and does up the zipper to your dress. to your surprise, you see timothée waltz in the room. dressed in a charcoal gray suit with a light lavender button up underneath. "y/n," he exhales, walking towards you. "you look breathtaking, ma chérie." 

"you don't look too bad yourself, timmy," you say, stepping down from your pedestal to be almost eye level with him.

"is she done here?" he asks everyone around without taking his eyes off you. 

one of the women there swoops in with a pair of shoes and says, "slip in to these and you're ready to go, darling." 

you step into your shoes and link arms with timothée. "carriage awaits," he says as the two of you get escorted to the limo. 

once inside you let out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding. "you okay?" he asks from beside you. 

"yeah, just.. tired." 

he chuckles and drops his head. "absolutely exhausted." you two had similarly scheduled days so he knows exactly how you feel. "don't worry, mon amour, i'll have you home in about 8 hours." 

"i thought the awards show was only 4-" 

"there's always the afterparty.." 

you audibly groan and drop your head as timothée places a reassuring hand on your knee. 

"we're here," he says with fake enthusiasm as the limo pulls up to the event. the past 45 minutes felt like hours as your head began to pound from the lack of sleep. yet, lucky you, 45 minutes in l.a. traffic was a miracle. 

the two of you step out into the scene. flashing lights from camera flickers, the general buzz of the crowd, people you knew trying to get your attention, people timothée knew trying to get his attention. being the kind person he is, he doesn't shy away from fans calling his name. he walks over to give high fives, say hi, sign things, and really interact with the people that are so invested in his career. you look at him with a fond smile on your face as he greets  people.  

"timothéeeee," you both hear and turn around to match the loud booming voice to a face. 

"armieee!!" he yells in response, hurrying over to hug his co-star. 

you stand idly by as the two hug and catch up. fiddling with your ponytail and the skirt of your dress. until that same voice catches your attention. 

"bring it in hot stuff!" 

"hey, armie! how've you been, handsome?" you two had only met a handful of times, but it's like your souls clicked instantly. he had kept in touch since the first time you met and you guys had been pretty close ever since. 

"oh i’m doing great. really. just excited for this evening. can't wait to see how many awards lil' tim brings in," armie ends with a light laugh before timothée chimes in. 

"oh god no-" 

a cheery voice interrupts the conversation. 

"helloooo," armie's wife says in a sing-song voice and joins his side. "nice to see you again, y/n. and congrats timmy on your nominations." 

you and timothée nod in response and utter small, nervous 'thank you's' before armie excuses the two of them, promising to catch up later. 

"well, well, well- this is it, timmy." you say from your seat next to him. the host reads the nominees for best breakthrough of the year, and timothée's name is mixed in with so many other talented actors. he nervously puts his hand over yours. "you are absolutely amazing. everyone knows that. you're gonna get it." he looks at you and you pass him a reassuring smile. 

"and the award for best breakthrough goes to… timothée chalamet!" 

his head shoots up in shock. cameras pan around him and his baffled expression appears on huge screens behind the stage. he slowly stands from his seat and makes his way to the stage. making a beautiful speech, thanking almost everyone he's ever known. giving gratitude to everyone he's ever worked with, his parents, and his best friends. he comes off the stage and returns to his seat beside you. a year runs down his cheek, and you move to wipe it away, but he grabs your hand away from his cheek only to press his lips to your knuckles. "thank you for always believing in me." 

"you're an amazing actor and an even better friend. 

the night was nearing an end. people were saying their goodbyes and their 'see-you-soon's and going their separate ways. you and timothée walk out of the event, arms linked, with his hands tightly gripping his award. the smile never leaves his face. "i can't fucking believe that, y/n."

"you did it, timmy! all you and your hard work. lemme pick a nice spot on your shelf for it yeah?" 

"i was thinking about sitting it on my dresser right above the drawer full of your shit you keep leaving at my house," he says with a barely visible smirk. 

"oh, well if it's such a problem," you begin "i guess I'll just have to come get my 'shit' then?" you finish sarcastically. 

"oh! how dare you?" he begins to shout, going on a tirade similar to that of hamlet; overly dramatic and mostly nonsensical. "leave them be! small, small remnants; reminders of thee." he trails off softly, dropping his head to your shoulder and bringing his other hand up to trail his fingertips down the side of your face. 

you can't help but chuckle at this. "bravo timothée! amazing performance." 

he straightens up before taking a bow and returning to his previous position on your shoulder. "do you wanna skip the afterparty?" 

"and do what, tim? i thought you were gonna catch up with armie?" 

"i dunno- go to my place?" 

you nod your head, and timothée let's the driver know to just go to his house. 

you get out of the car in front of his apartment, quickly thank the driver, and dash inside; excited to remove the day. "can i shower?" you ask quickly already making your way upstairs.

"oui, mon trèsor, make yourself at home. ill be up in a while." it was almost as if he had it scripted. a routine more or less. you'd ask to shower - despite him telling you almost each time you never had to ask - and go up stairs to do so; him trailing along about an hour later behind you. 

you finish your shower earlier than planned so you decide to lay on his bed until he comes up. you let your freshly washed body relish in the textures of the cotton t-shirt and shorts you're wearing and the damp-cool feel of the comforter on his bed. 

you're not left alone for long before he darts up the stairs and into his room, catching your attention. you watch as he walks around, dropping various articles of his clothing haphazardly on his floor. left in only his boxers. 

"timmy?" you ask in a drawn out voice. 

"hm?" he asks lowly in response; his eyes trained on you. you don't respond to his muffled question and instead watch as he comes to lean over the foot of the bed, by your legs. "i've been thinking," he continues, "a lot recently. about us.." 

"us?-" 

"about what the media thinks we are. what the people say. the blog posts, the tweets. i read it all… what do you think about it, y/n?" he ends with a light sigh, making drawing light swirls on your leg. 

"i dunno really. i've never thought much about it," you say sitting up. 

he moves up from his place in front of the bed, crawling up to sit to the right of your legs. knees drawn up to his chest, eyes meeting yours. he raises his hand so his fingertips ghost the curve of your cheek. "you never think about.. the possibility of us?" he pauses as his eyes drift from yours. hands falling to his lap as he scoots even closer to you. you sit stunned, not knowing how to answer as if it was some rhetoric instead of a simple question. filling the silence, he continues. "i think about how different things would be if we were together. what it would be like to hold you and kiss you and- can i kiss you?" 

his voice wavers as his eyes meet yours yet again. with quick movements, he moves to straddle your legs, both hands resting lightly on either side of your face. 

"can i kiss you?" he asks again, his face millimeters from yours. 

you shake your head yes as your eyes fluttering closed, your lips brushing against his as you move. 

he plants his lips firmly on yours. innocent at first, but the kiss quickly gets deeper. more desperate, his hands moving from the sides of your face to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back giving him access to your neck. his lips dance around the skin of your neck, being careful not to leave any marks. “is this okay?” he whispers, dragging his hands from your hair to the hem of your shirt. 

you nod your head vigorously and he pulls your shirt up and over your head, throwing it to the floor with his clothes. you lean back and give timothee free reign of your chest and stomach. he makes his way from your neck down and across your chest. your hands rush to knot in his hair as he takes a nipple in his mouth, carefully flicking his tongue across the hardening bud before doing the same to the other. 

"timmy.." you breathe out as he leaves your chest and explores lower. his eyes meet yours as his teeth come into contact with the flimsy waistband of your sleep shorts. "please," you whisper. 

he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and pulls them down your legs; eyes going wide when he sees you have nothing underneath. 

"so pretty," he whispers almost to himself as he throws your shorts in his floor with the rest of your guys' clothes. he runs his finger along your slit, collecting some of your wetness, tasting it. laying back down with your legs over his shoulders, he hooks his arms around your thighs to keep you in place. he runs his tongue along your folds and you arch your back in response. he sucks on your clit making you squirm and tangle your fingers tighter in his hair, pushing against his face, eager for more. 

"tim-... timmy," you beg.

timothée kisses his way back up your body. "hm?" he hums softly beside your ear only for you to utter another weak 'please' in response. 

"please… please what, mon amour?" 

"baise moi.." you didn't know much french. you had picked up on a few of timothée's most used phrases, but this you hadn't learned from him, so it caught him off-guard. stuck in a moment of shock. hearing you say something so dirty in french felt so strangely intimate; you didn't have to ask him twice. 

he slips his boxers, finally accompanying you in nakedness, and slips into you, moaning at the feeling of you around him. 

"fuck.. timmy-" you groan as he picks up his pace. he coos sweet nothings into your ear while drilling into your core. 

his head drops to your chest and the soft, sweet praises slowly turn into obscenities. "merde," he groans, picking up his pace even more. holding himself at arms length above you, he throws his head back; lips parted in pure bliss. 

you lift one of your hands to trail down timothée's torso. you lazily drag your fingertips across his chest and down to his stomach. the pleasure building inside you, your hand finds its way to your clit. “timmy... fuck! ple- please don’t stop. fuuuuuck!” 

“défaire pour moi, y/n.” you didn’t think french could ever drive you to orgasm, but when it came from timothé anything was possible. you convulse around him as your wave of pleasure washes over you. timothée reaching his own peak soon after, pulling out and emptying on your stomach. he quickly finds something to clean you up with before plopping down on the bed beside you. many silent moments pass - nothing but heavy breaths leaving either of you - before he speaks up. “you know,” he begins in a soft whisper, “i felt bad- like i was using you. just to go to events with me. i know you don’t really like them but-” 

you cut him off and turn to face him. “i might hate going to those award shows, but they’re a little less bad with you around.” 

he breaks into a wide smile and pulls you closer, putting his head on your stomach. "mon amour, je t'ai toujours aimé." you reach down to play with his curls and begin to drift off on your way to sleep. 

#timothee x reader #timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet imagines #timothee chalamet imagines #timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet smut #timothée chalamet smut #timothee x reader smut #timothée x reader smut #timothée chalamet x reader smut #smut #fluff #imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothée chalamet fic #timothée chalamet fanfiction

[angelmavmurdock]

Our Little Secret: Part Four - A.R.

Word count: 3186 Summary: Arvin helps y/n with her wounds and things get heated.

-

Reader's POV

We got to the house and Arvin parked outside. We both got out and shut the doors quietly, not wanting to disturb Lenora in the back. Arvin opened the door and I went around to help.

"Hey, just need you to stand up for me." Arvin spoke softly to his sister, brushing the hair from her face.

She groaned lightly but then sat up with tired eyes and slid out of the car. Arvin held her on one side while I supported her other side. I shut the car door behind me and we walked Lenora up the stairs to the front door. I ignored the pain in my legs and continued supporting some of her weight. Arvin unlocked the door then we went in.

We walked her to her bedroom and I stood by the door while Arvin lay her down on her bed and helped take her shoes off then tucked her under the covers. She quickly nuzzled into her pillow and thanked us quietly. Arvin smiled and then stood back up, walking towards me.

"Let's get you cleaned up." He said quietly to me and we headed to the kitchen, closing Lenora's door.

It was so quiet without Mrs Russel or Lenora. The sun was just about to set so it left a golden glow in the room, still giving us some light and heat.

"Just uh...just sit up on the counter, there." Arvin directed awkwardly, coughing afterwards.

I attempted to hop up onto the counter but just hurt my leg.

"Ow!" I exclaimed, my knees buckling from the pain.

He hurled towards me in panic and caught me by the waist before I hit the ground.

"You alright?" He asked, concern lacing his voice as he brought me back to a standing position.

"Yeah, I just...I can't get up on the counter because of my legs." I said to my shoes, avoiding eye contact with him.

There was a different energy in the house. I don't know if it was just because we were alone and we had just been in this fight but it was almost...sexual. And I had never felt that before.

"Well, I'll help you. C'mon." He hoisted me up by my hips fairly easily.

I flinched when I sat on the kitchen counter, the coldness of the granite on my bare thighs. My shorts were skin tight and stopped just below my backside while my skirt only went to not even my mid-thigh.

Arvin noticed and gulped then pulled away. He rummaged through one or two kitchen cupboards before finding the first aid kit he had been looking for. He opened the small tin box up and got everything he needed out. I watched as he shed of his jacket and cap and then brought everything over to me.

"Alright, hands first." He said.

I held my hands up, palms up, for him. He wetted a cloth and wrung it out before coming back over to me.

"This might sting." He stated.

He took my hand gently and dabbed the cloth on the cuts. I winced and curled my toes at the pain but managed to keep still as he did the other hand, too. He looked closer at them then looked at me.

"They'll be fine. Just be careful." He said.

I nodded and watched as he put the cloth down then inspected my legs.

"Damn...those assholes better not bother you again." He shook his head and reached for a bottle of antiseptic germicide.

"Wrong place, wrong time, I guess." I sighed.

He shook his head again, "No. They're just fuckin' bullies lookin' for girls to prey on."

I looked into his eyes and they seemed filled with pain and anger. He put some of the liquid onto a piece of kitchen paper.

"Okay, this'll definitely hurt so just stay still." He said.

He hesitantly placed his hand on my lower thigh to keep my leg in place. My breath hitched in my throat and I felt my lower regions flutter with...I don't quite know what.

He placed the wetted kitchen paper onto my knee and I gasped, gripping his forearm in pain. I bit my lip to stop myself from screaming then just used my whole hand to cover my mouth.

"Just squeeze my arm, y/n." He spoke lowly.

I nodded and he patted the kitchen paper on my knee again. I gripped his arm, my sheer painted nails digging into his skin, probably marking him. I removed the hand from my mouth and just balled them into fists on the counter as he wiped over both my knees.

"Fuck, that hurts." I squeaked, leaning my head back on a cupboard.

"Just a second or two more." He said reassuringly.

"Anywhere else?" He asked, removing the kitchen paper from my skin.

I didn't loosen off though, I knew what else hurt.

"I uh...I landed on my hip but I don't know if it's cut or not." I said, eyes still clenched shut because the liquid was still cleaning my open cuts.

"You'll have to show me." He said softly.

I wasn't used to this side of Arvin. He was usually either upfront, sarcastic, mean or suspicious. He was never this soft or caring around me.

"I don't...I don't wanna." I shook my head.

He sighed, "y/n, I need to check to be safe. Would you rather it be infected or would you rather me clean it?"

I groaned, "Fine. But don't look too much."

He smirked slightly then helped me down from the counter. I looked at him so he could turn around but he didn't get the message.

"Arvin. Turn around." I said, gesturing with my hand.

"Oh- sorry." He apologised, turning his back to me.

I smiled at him, revelling in the fact he couldn't see my face. I felt heat rise to my cheeks and ears as I removed my shorts, leaving me in just my underwear and my skirt.

"Should I take my skirt off?" I asked nervously.

"Um...how high up is the cut?" He asked, turning his head to talk to me.

I flipped my skirt up and looked. It was a bigger wound than I expected. An open cut from my side to just on my ass cheek. I gulped then decided I'd keep the skirt on. I didn't want to be completely half-naked in front of him.

"It's fine I'll keep it on. You can turn around." I assured, kicking my shorts to the side.

He turned around and wetted a new piece of kitchen paper with the antiseptic.

"Alright, how bad is it?" He asked, his brown eyes looking into my own.

"Quite bad." I said.

I slowly lifted the hem of my skirt up, revealing the wound and my underwear. If I had known Arvin was going to be looking at my panties I would have worn nicer ones. They were just plain black with a little bow at the front.

Arvin gulped then stuttered.

"It's okay. I'll clean it then dress it." He said, nodding as if trying to reassure himself.

"Okay." I bit the inside of my lip nervously.

I turned to the side and kept my skirt lifted up. Arvin lightly held my waist with his left hand then started wiping some of the dry blood from my thigh. I shivered under his touch and he hesitated for a moment but kept going.

I closed my eyes and bit my lip, my brain confused if I was reacting to the inevitable pain or his touch on my skin and how he was taking care of me.

"Ready?" He asked quietly.

I nodded with a hum.

He pressed it to my hip first and I gasped, "Arvin!" I held his arm from behind me and squeezed my eyes shut.

I heard him audibly gulp and his movements became scattered like he was flustered. But then he gently started wiping at the wound.

"Fuck," I hissed as he moved it to the part of the wound that was on my butt.

"You okay?" Arvin asked softly.

I hummed, "Just stings- ah fuck." I cursed, gripping his arm tighter.

He gave a few more wipes and then pulled away. I relaxed and sighed with relief.

"Thank god that's over."

He chuckled, "I'll just dry it and dress it."

"Okay." I smiled.

He got a new piece of kitchen paper but this time just dabbed on my skin, collecting any excess liquid. I bit my lip, not from pain this time but from saying or doing anything out of sorts. Every time his hand grazed over my skin I felt a rush to my core and butterflies in my stomach. It was extremely odd and new. I had never experienced feelings like that.

Arvin pulled the sheet away and then opened up a huge band-aid looking thing. I lifted my skirt higher for easier access and he softly pressed it onto my skin, careful to where he was placing it.

He smoothed it over then stood back.

"All done." He sighed.

"Thank you, Arvin." I swallowed nervously, placing my skirt back down.

"No problem, y/n." He smiled then packed away the first aid kit.

I furrowed my brows and rested a hand on his, "What about you?"

He looked from my hand to my eyes, "What d'ya mean?"

"You got hurt, too."

He snickered, "I can take care of myself, y/n."

I held his hand tighter and made sure he was looking at me.

"But you don't have to..." I whispered.

He looked from my eyes to my lips a few times and so did I. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted to kiss him.

"I only got some bruises and a bloody nose." He spoke, cutting the tension.

"Where are your bruises? You only have one on your cheek. Are there more?" I prompted.

He looked away, then down to his feet, then back up at me. I looked at him in concern.

"There's...there's some on my chest. I think it's right on my ribs." He finally said.

A soft smile grew on my face.

"I can help with that."

He looked at my lips once more but then pulled away, his hand coming out from underneath mine.

"Fine. But don't look too much." He smirked.

I smiled and shook my head, "Asshole."

He began lifting his white - now dirty - shirt off. First I saw the black, blue and purple bruising over his ribs and then I noticed his abs, and his evident muscles. I knew he was fit but I didn't realise labour got you like this. I gulped and ignored any thoughts that may enter my mind.

I walked towards him and placed my hands on his chest and then slid them down slowly over his bruises, careful not to hurt him.

It was so quiet in the house, only the sounds of bugs and distant traffic filling the silence. And now the touching of my skin over his.

"Did you hear a crack when you fell?" I asked in a whisper, feeling his bruises.

He winced, "No."

"How does it feel when you breathe in." I asked, looking up into his dark, brown eyes.

He swallowed, "A lil' sore."

"Take a deep breath for me." I requested, wrapping one hand around to his back and keeping one splayed just under his pecs.

He paused and then took a deep breath. I couldn't hear anything or feel anything. He exhaled slowly.

"How did that feel?" I asked, removing my hand from his back.

"Not good." He chuckled.

I stood away from him and went towards the freezer, "You'll just have bruised ribs. Nothin' too bad but you'll have to take it easy for a while. No work."

I retrieved a bag of peas from the freezer drawer and held it over his bruises. He flinched and hissed at the cold on his swollen skin.

"Just keep it there and keep replacing it. It'll keep the swelling down. Have some pain killers too." I spoke while getting the cloth that Arvin used and putting it under warm water.

"What're you doing now?" He asked.

I rinsed it through then wrung it out.

I smiled, "Sit on the table."

He raised a brow, "No."

I scoffed, "Just sit on the table, Arvin."

He squinted his eyes at me, suspicious of what I was going to do. He silently complied and slid onto the dining table.

I stood in between his legs and reached a hand to cup his face.

"I'm cleaning your face. It's covered in blood and dirt." I whispered.

He smiled at the gesture and let me take care of him.

I wiped the cloth over one cheek and then the other. I wiped it over his forehead, under his curly hair and then down his nose. He chuckled at that and I giggled back.

"Just tilt your head back a lil'," I instructed, cupping his chin and moving his head back slightly.

He let me and I cleaned around his nose.

"You know, you surprised me today." He said.

"Really? With what?" I asked.

"With the crow bar."

I gulped and kept cleaning his nose, "I did what I had to do."

"Just surprised me." He shrugged.

I smiled, "Well, Arvin, I'm full of surprises."

I pulled the cloth away and then wiped under his nose with my thumb.

"All done." I smiled and rinsed the cloth off in the sink.

He slid off the table and watched me as I wrung the cloth out again and placed it over the tap.

I looked behind me and squinted at him, "What?"

"Nothin'." He shrugged with a smirk.

"Why're you lookin' at me like I'm your Sunday dinner?" I chuckled, turning around and leaning against the counter.

He put the bag of peas on the table and then walked closer to me. My heart rate picked up and my cheeks flushed again as he kept walking closer to me.

"y/n, I know I'm Lenora's brother and you probably want nothin' to do with me but," He was speaking lowly and I could feel the heat come from his shirtless body.

"Arvin-" I placed a hand on his cheek, stroking over a bruise.

We both looked from each other's eyes' to our mouths'.

"-kiss me." I whispered.

He slowly and almost hesitantly leaned down and I felt as if my heart was about to break out of my chest. Finally, his lips touched mine and all my nerves evaporated just like that.

His lips brushed over mine softly, a complete juxtaposition to the tension in the air and what we were wearing. He slid his hands onto my waist, able to feel my skin on his hands. I pushed back on the kiss and I felt his grip tighten on me. He pushed me further into the counter and I wrapped both my arms around his neck, lacing my fingers into his hair.

His tongue brushed past my bottom lip and I welcomed it, feeling him push and swirl his own around mine. I moaned into the kiss and he wrapped his arms almost completely around me, bringing me as close to him as possible. Our tongues moved with fervour and our breaths got heavier against each other's skin. His hand slipped down past my good hip and rested on my ass. I gasped and bit his bottom lip in surprise. He groaned and grabbed my ass completely. I moaned into his mouth and leaned further up, trying to get more of him.

I had never had a kiss like this before. It was lustful and passionate. No one had ever touched me like Arvin. And I didn't mind it one bit.

His kisses began to move down past my lips onto my jaw, sucking and licking over my skin. He began to suck on a spot just on my neck and I moaned, tugging his hair in pleasure.

He was good at this.

His hands slid under my skirt and carefully grabbed at the flesh - avoiding my cut.

He kept sucking on my skin, then relieved the spot by licking over it and then going back in again. His hands snuck under the band of my underwear and I gasped, surprised and aroused at the same time.

And I had never truly been aroused before.

He twisted his finger around the waistband and I wondered what he was doing. But then he pulled up slightly.

"Arvin!" I moaned.

Whatever he had done had cause a million pleasurable senses to go off.

"Shh, gotta be quiet, darlin'." He spoke lowly and breathlessly into the crook of my neck.

"Do it again-"

"Hello?!" A voice suddenly boomed through the house.

We both jumped and clutched our chests. Arvin winced at the pain around his ribs then looked at me with wide eyes.

"We're back!"

It was Mrs Russell and Uncle Earskell.

Arvin panicked along with me for a few seconds and then he pointed to my shorts on the floor. I gasped and dove to pick them up, just as Emma came into the kitchen.

"Oh hey, y/n! Lovely to see you!" She beamed.

I gulped, hiding the shorts behind my back.

"You too!" I grinned.

She switched the kitchen light on and then gasped at the sight of me, "You have blood all over you, honey! What happened?"

She came to me with a shocked face, looking over my body.

"Uh-"

"Those bullies, Grandma. Not only do they bother Lenora, they're botherin' y/n too. She protected herself, Lenora...and me." Arvin spoke almost proudly.

"Well, my goodness. That is horrible. We'll need to wash these before you head home. Don't want your parents seeing this."

"No ma'am." I smiled.

"Put your clothes in the sink and I'll handle it. You can borrow clothes from Lenora in the mean time and did you get any cuts?" She asked.

I looked up at Arvin then back at Emma, "Arvin and I helped each other out. And Lenora is okay, she's just resting." I said, placing a hand on her arm.

She sighed, "Okay. I'll give you some privacy to change."

She sat her things on the table and then gasped when she looked at Arvin.

"You silly boy. Come on." She rolled her eyes to me and grabbed the bag of peas and left the room.

Arvin and I stood for a moment just looking at each other. I bit my lip subconsciously and he smirked.

"You've got a new bruise." He informed me.

I furrowed my brows, "What?! Where?!" I exclaimed, looking down at my body.

He chuckled lowly and then pointed on his neck. I was confused for a moment but then I realised.

I lay a hand over my neck where he had been kissing me and he smiled smugly then followed his Grandma into the living room.

I rushed to the mirror and gasped.

A blue and purple hickey had appeared on my skin. I bit my lip looking at it and a slow smile started to form.

-

{Tags: @notanordinaryprincess96 @imagine-yourself-happy​ }

#arvin russel #arvin russel x y/n #arvin russel fluff #arvin russel smut #arvin russel angst #arvin russel x reader #arvin russel mini series #mini series #tom holland #tom holland series #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland angst #tom holland fic #arvin russel fic #one shot #imagine #arvin russel imagine #tom holland imagine

[abluescarfonwaston]

Fun fanfiction idea:

Miles crossdresses to avoid being seen in public, and knowing him, it's very convincing. Except for the fact that he's still wearing the exact same shade of red and his hair extensions are the same color.

Maya immediately recognizes him, but Phoenix, being his dense self, takes longer.

Alright which one of you bastards just put me on freaking read? How dare you read me like a freaking children's novel. YOU KNEW I COULDN’T RESIST THIS. Featuring Gender non conforming Miles Edgeworth. Also on AO3

“Earth to Nick.” A cold plastic bag was dropped on his head.

“Ack!” He turned around on the park bench to glare at her. “What was that for?”

“You’ve been totally checked out for like the last ten minutes!”

“I was not! I was completely focused!”

“On what?!” Maya demanded pulling out the ice cream from the bag she’d hit him with and flopping down on the bench next to him. Tearing one open.

“Uhhhh…” His cheeks heated as he glanced back to the focus of his attention. Grabbed the other ice cream to try and cover it. “Nothing.”

It was just… She was beautiful. Silver starlight hair that framed her face and flowed down the curve of her spine. The way her dress hugged the wide expanse of her chest. Pinched down to her narrow hips. The magenta billow of the tail of her dress that still allowed him to see the garters around her muscular calves and thighs when she turned.

She was breathtaking. Just objectively. The kind of women Mia would ask him what kind of conclusive proof he was wearing around his neck to get her to even consider dating him.

She took a step forward in those two inch heels and he swallowed. She was probably at least his height if not taller. Would he have to bounce up on the balls of his feet to kiss her? She’d turn her face up with a teasing smirk and deny him. Did you want something Phoenix?

You know what I want!

Do I?

A kiss! Please!

And that teasing smile would grow just a little bigger and the crinkle under her bespectacled eyes a little softer. Oh I suppose I can do that. She’d angle herself a little lower and kiss him and-

So he might have been a little romantically horny.

Her dog, a big fluffy creature dropped the neon tennis ball at her feet. Play lunging. Tail raised and wagging in anticipation.

She scooped up the ball in her tennis ball throwing… stick. Whatever those were called. Smile widening. His chest twisted. She said something to the dog.

You wanna go? You ready? Is my sweet girl ready?

The dog wiggled. Excitement growing.

She threw back her arm. Go get it! Flung the ball across the park.

Her fluffy beast hurtled after.

“Oh my God Nick.”

Cold ice cream dripped onto his hand jolting him back to his body. He hastily licked it up. Face hot. “Shut up.” I’m allowed to look! I was an art major! I can appreciate beauty while realizing that I’m not allowed to touch!

Or interact in any way with someone so far out of my league.

Gods. She’s pretty.

“Nick is that Edgeworth?”

His head snapped to her then. She wasn’t staring at him laughing at his plight. She was looking at someone in the park.

“What?! Where?!” He tried to follow her gaze to the prosecutor in question. It would be strange to see him out an about. Was he dressed like a normal human being? Was that why she was so surprised? Was he ordering a hot dog from a stand in full Edgeworth Regalia? Gods was he on a run in shorts and a too tight tee, sweaty and slightly disheveled from the exercise?!

He scanned the park as Maya gaped. Jaw working but infuriatingly silent. “Where Maya? I don’t see him.”

If I miss seeing Edgeworth in running shoes and shorts you’re buying your own dinner!

She weakly raised her hand and pointed. Finger shaking.

To… The woman in pink?

He laughed. “What are you talking about Maya?” Just because they’re both gorgeous silver hair people with a preference for light red- bordering on pink-

She cupped her mouth. “Miles Edgeworth!”

He grabbed her. “What do you think you’re doing?!” He glanced at the woman. “See she didn’t even respond!”

“She- he – FLINCHED NICK. It’s TOTALLY HIM! Oh my god!!!” She started to stand. He tried to force her back onto the bench before she humiliated him in front of one of the most stunning people he’d seen in months.

She wiggled free and dashed out towards her.

His life was over. For a moment it flashed in front of his eyes.

… Less of it should have been spent buying food for the woman who was about to be listed as his cause of death!

He scrambled after her. “Maya no!”

“Oh my god! You look so good! Your makeup is on Point!”

“Uh.” She raised the tennis ball stick between her and Maya hiding behind it like a tiny ineffective shield. Face blossoming red. “T-Thank you?” She squeaked out. Her eyes flickered nervously.

Silver. Even her eyes where silver starlight.

He shoved Maya’s head down in an apology bow. “I am SO sorry about her.”

Straighten.

She was taller than him in those heels. Just an inch or three.

His little bi heart was going to give out.

“I-it’s fine.” She laughed airily. Hand grasping at the crook of her elbow as she stared pointedly away.

That felt… Familiar.

“I’m jealous how well you pull that outfit off!”

Her dog trotted right up between them and sat down firmly in front of her. Leaning into her legs and thighs.

Her hand released and buried itself in the thick fur of their fluffy mane.

“We… We should be going.” She fumbled for the leash holstered like Franziska’s whip at her hip.

“Miles?”

She- he – They? Flinched.

Oh. Oh fuck.

“What?! You don’t have to!”

“Don’t run!” He begged hands splayed out wide. Miles looked very much like they wanted to run. “Fuck I’m sorry we won’t tell anyone!”

The hand twitched. Almost to the leash. The dog whined.

Both hands were buried in their mane.

“Did you just curse?” Maya stared at him wide eyed like she’d just found an even better target. Deflated slightly at his and Miles face. Forcibly brightened and clapped her hands together. “What’s your dogs name?”

“… Pess.”

“Aren’t you the handsomest little man Pess? What a sweet puppy!”

“Pess is a lady.”

“The prettiest lady!” Maya immediately began to coo.

He rubbed the back of his neck staring off at the tree line. “Like… You?” He tried to ask.

“Ngh… Not… Not as such no.”

“Oh. O-okay. I mean- it’d be fine if you were! You really do make a pretty lady!”

Fuck.

“Yeah Nick couldn’t stop staring at you!”

MAYA.

“Is… that right?”

He chuckled nervously. “Haha. Maybe? Uh would we… Talk?”

“I… suppose.”

“Can I throw the ball for your dog then?”

“Ah.” He looked at the stick. Handed it to her. “Sure.”

They sat on the bench. Miles tucked the tail of the dress under them. Long fingers splayed on their thighs.

“Sooo… Um.”

“If you’re going to laugh just do it already. Go on. Laugh!”

“…”Miles turned their face away as they spit out the demand. His chest clenched for entirely different reason. “My pronouns are he him?” He tried. The fingers eased slightly as Miles turned and peered at him through those silver bangs. “What are yours?”

There was a long pause as Miles studied him. Face dropped back to their thighs. “He him is fine. Although I do not object to they them in private.”

“Does now count as private?”

“Well I certainly don’t want you using he him right now.”

“Got it.” He threw an arm over the bench and stared at them. Even more breathtaking up close. It was unfair Miles got to be hot in all the genders. He could barely manage the one. “So is this like. A hobby?”

“No not. I enjoy dresses and skirts in a gender defying way not. As crossdressing.” They stared down at their manicured fingers. “The extent of this presentation is…”

He waited for Miles to continue. Pressed when they didn’t. “Is?”

Miles raised their chin. “Someone in my position can’t be seen wearing these sorts of things. I don’t appreciate the attention I receive from merely being openly gay. Much less gender non-conforming.”

“Yeah no I totally get that- I mean you’re a private guy- person? – to begin with. Totally fine!”

There was a weak smile. They tugged on their sleeve. “There is another benefit…”

“Oh yeah?”

“I’m not a high ranked prosecutor like this. There are no eyes watching me.” Yeah I don’t think that’s true in the slightest. “No tabloids itching to catch the demon prosecutor doing something distasteful or vengeful people hoping for a moment to come yell at me. I’m not ‘Prosecutor Edgeworth’ so… I can relax.”

“Oh.” He blinked. Squished his face further into the crook of his arm. “Guess that makes sense.” They stared out at the park. Watching Maya pretend to throw the ball for Pess. Shoulders loose and relaxed. Screw it. “Miles.” He tacked on just half a second too late.

The shoulders pulled up and that red tint returned. Red really was their color. “W-What are you?”

“You’re not Prosecutor Edgeworth right now right? So you’re Miles. Isn’t that right?”

The blush climbed their cheeks up to their ears. “No, you’re Wright.”

“Not right now I’m not. Right now I’m Phoenix.” He stared up through the lashes of his eyes at his childhood best friend. All red and silver starlight. “And I’m sitting on the bench with the prettiest person I’ve ever seen.”

Holy shit! That was almost smooth! That’ll never happen again! It’s so good were sitting down or else I’d have tripped on my shoes and face planted as universal karma for that!

Miles twisted away. Hand coming up to cover their face. He could still see their ears burning red.

“Me too.” Miles mumbled.

“Huh?” He lifted his head slightly. Cocked it.

“The bench. That’s true for me too.”

“Uh. Wha?” The bench?

I’m sitting on the bench with the prettiest person I’ve ever seen.

He fell to the ground. All the blood collecting in his face. “Wha- You- You can’t just!”

Miles turned. A teasing smirk pulling at his face. “Oh haven’t you heard Phoenix?” Fuck. “Turnabout’s fair play.”

Bastard. He grinned. Bastard.

Turnabouts fair play.

#miles edgeworth #phoenix wright #narumistu #wrightworth #pess is the bestest girl #and also miles edgeworth he/him they/them solidarity #i too wish to be masculine but in a distinctly queer way

[maddiewritesstucky]

IT’S SOMEONE’S BIRTHDAY!! 😆💕🎉

How do I possibly sum up how loved you are, how special you are, how deeply appreciated and important you are @howdoyousleep3?!

I thought long and hard about what I could give you, what I could do for you from such a great distance, and I could think of no greater show of love than to take the very two things I said I would never do, and use them both to create something extra special smutty for you 💜

😘 So K, angel, light of my life...I give to you the most esoteric thing I will ever write, my first (and likely only) reader insert, definitely my only RPF, I give you...

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Pairing: female reader x douchebag CEvans character we coined ‘Jersey Boy’

Tags: Public sex, fingering, mild degradation / humiliation, dirty talk, hypothetical girl-on-girl, gratuitous use of the word ‘fuck’, not a condom in sight

Based on a dangerously horny WhatsApp conversation that will live rent free in the spank bank for the rest of eternity. Beta credits to @buckyandthejets - thank you for holding my hand on this one 😂

***

“Your eyes better be open,” he rumbles, tequila-slick lips hard up against your ear. 

You’d laugh if you had the breath to do it, if you weren’t strung bow-taut trying to stay off the bouncer’s radar. He’s kicked the two of you out before, more times than you’d admit to, and he’ll do it again if you give him reason enough. 

You’re not going to give him a reason, tonight. 

You’re gonna sit there, tucked away in your favorite corner booth with your mouth shut and your eyes on the stage; perched in your boyfriend’s lap with your back against his chest and his hand stuffed between your thighs, and you’re not gonna make a fucking scene about the fact that he’s knuckle deep in your pussy. 

“She’s good, tonight,” he sighs, all false nonchalance like he doesn’t know how that particular set of curves up on the pole always makes your blood run a little hotter.

‘Roxi’ she goes by on stage, but you can call me whatever the hell you want, when she’s in your lap with her tits in your face.

“She’s always good.”

You stare, transfixed, at the sensuous shift of her body; that sinful rhythm that rolls through her limbs and makes every movement seem like something you should have no right to see.

He hums a noncommittal sound behind you, stroking languid at that spot inside that’d get you in trouble if he went any harder with it. That’s why you know he won’t - he’s not about to risk getting kicked out when it’s so much sweeter to send you spiraling like this, subtle and silent.

“You should learn to dance for me,” his breath falls warm over your shoulder, his lips nestled into the crook of your neck, “put on a show, get me all worked up…”

“You don’t need any fuckin’ help getting worked up.”

The sharp flick he deals to the peaked bud of your nipple makes your breath hitch, even through the barrier of your shirt. 

His hand is working slow and lazy between your thighs, but you know his body is winding tighter for this, too. It’s there in the vague shudder at the top of his inhales, the twitch of his cock inside his jeans. 

“Bet she could teach you some moves,” he hums, squeezing at your hip and your waist; tracing the curve of your rib cage. 

She could teach me a lot of things, you think, swallowing hard for the endless stretch of her legs and the curve of her ass.

You lift your eyes to her face and she’s looking right at you, her gaze flickering familiarity before it drops to the hand buried under your skirt. She smirks so goddamn knowing, and it’s your saving grace that the lighting is already washing your skin in shades of red. 

“Aw, look at that,” that voice at your back coos, “is the pretty stripper smilin’ at you?”

“Shut up.” 

It comes out breathy and insipid, and you feel more than hear the soft, mocking laugh that rumbles through his chest. 

He tucks his chin over your shoulder, presses his smirk right against your cheek as his hand snakes up under your shirt.

“What’s the matter, baby? Don’t you wanna be her friend? I bet you girls would get on real well…”

Your skin flushes hot under his lips, under the maddeningly chaste kisses he’s leaving there like he’s not fingerfucking you in public. 

“That’d be nice, huh? The two of you, gettin’ close...maybe she’d let you touch that body you can’t stop staring at.” 

“Jesus...”

He’s kneading slow and hard at your tits, drawing mindless circles around your nipples and flexing his thighs beneath you, just enough to keep you a little off balance. 

You can almost taste blood for how deep your teeth are sunk into your bottom lip.

“You think about it, don’t you?” he whispers, “You wonder what it’d be like, getting your hands on those curves, maybe getting your lips on hers...That what you want, baby? You wanna give her a little kiss?” 

...Fuck, but you hate how he does this. 

You do wanna kiss her. 

You wanna get on your knees and swap spit with her around the dick currently pressed up against your ass, but you’re not about to tell him that.

“Maybe...” 

“‘Maybe’?” He slips his fingers out of you just to push them back in slower, shallow this time because he’s an asshole. “‘Maybe’ don’t drip like this, sweetheart.”

“Fuck,” you press back against his chest; tip your head back against his shoulder as you suck a shuddering breath in.  

“Yeah, I know this ain’t for me,” he draws his fingertips up through the warm, wet center of you; sweeping figure-8 strokes that kiss your clit and dip shallow inside you. “Maybe I should call her over here, tell her she went and got my girl’s pussy all wet...maybe she’d help you out with it.”

You almost crack, then; barely catching the hoarse cry that’s shocked out of you as he smacks those soaked, taunting fingers down in a tight swat against your pussy. 

Your whole body lights up for it, your cheeks flooding hot and your pulse throbbing to rival the bass from the speakers. 

“Jesus, you can’t just—”

“I can’t what?” His other hand slips up to curl around the front of your throat, gripping you tight under the line of your jaw. “What can’t I do with this pussy, huh?” 

God, your body’s screaming. 

There’s nothing he couldn’t do, nothing you wouldn’t want, and you both know it. Fuck, does he know it...

You cuss under your breath, splitting your thighs wider over the spread of his lap, and he huffs a laugh that catches in your hair. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Fuck you.” 

You roll your hips forward against that broad palm cupped between your legs and the grip on your neck tightens; his face tucking in close against yours as he growls right up against your cheekbone.

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth.”

He’s so hard beneath you, nudging his hips up to rub the denim-clad line of his cock against your ass; toying with your clit and pulsing his fingers inside you. 

The cigarette he had before you came out tonight is still clinging to him, making the amber notes in his cologne sing sweeter, and every time you squirm you can feel the chain around his neck rubbing cool against the back of your shoulder.  

“You gonna fuck me?” 

You already know the answer, just like you know you might not even make it home before he’s getting it in you. You might not make it to his car, and you’re nowhere near as ashamed as you should be that it wouldn’t be the first time he’s fucked you in the alley behind the club.

...It might be the first time for something else though, you realize, as he squeezes your hip and tells you to lift up.

“Here?” you hiss, “Are you fucking kidding me?” 

Your eyes frantically sweep the room, your entire body flooding hot as he pulls his hand from between your legs and slips it under you to get at his zipper.

“What, you wanna wait ‘til we get home?” he scoffs like the notion is ridiculous. “You want some fuckin’ rose petals, some jazz playin’? Should we do it missionary?!” 

“God, you’re an asshole.”

You try to put some venom in it, but it’s lost to the fact that you’re pulling your panties to the side; trapping a gasp behind your teeth as the blunt head of him nudges up against you. 

“And you’re about to get fucked in a strip club,” he hums, “so what does that make you?” 

Another place, another time, and you might bite back. You might get up and walk away entirely, just to hear him hit you with that ‘aww come on, baby, don’t be like that!’ 

But right now you’re here, and his hands are on your hips and his cock is pushing into you bare, and you know exactly what this makes you.

Your fingers dig an iron grip into his thighs as you sink down on the length of him, grinding against the heavy stretch of him inside you. It takes your breath away every goddamn time, makes you spread your legs wider like it’ll make a lick of difference to the way he fills you up; immense and overwhelming and so fucking good. 

“Oh my god,” you whimper, circling your hips as you settle your whole weight down onto him, “oh my god.”

“Hey, you take this quiet,” he chides, his arm wrapping tight around your waist. “You start makin’ a scene, I’m gonna pull out.”  

Fuck, if he pulls out you’re gonna put him in his grave. 

There’s no move you can make here that doesn’t send you reeling, no shift of your body or swivel of your hips that doesn’t wind you further up the spiral; not with the way he takes up every last inch of space inside you and then some. 

His voice is a constant rumbling bass in your ear, and it doesn’t fucking help, those coos of that’s it, baby, and find the spot, and make it feel good. 

It doesn’t help when he starts rocking up into you in tiny pulses, when he uses his grip on your hips to angle you just perfect so his cock strokes you right fucking there.

It definitely doesn’t help when his fingertips find their way back between your thighs to drum a soft staccato against your clit.   

“Gonna come?” He curls his body closer around you as you start to shake; as your breath leaves you on a reedy exhale.

You can only nod, screwing your eyes shut and sinking into that building surge of heat. You are gonna come, right here in this room full of people. And he’s never gonna fucking let you forget it. 

“Open,” he commands, low and rough.  

You’re about to open your eyes, but then his fingers are pressing at your lips, and you’re swallowing a soft groan as he stuffs them into your mouth.

“Not a fuckin’ sound, you hear me?” 

You barely have time to nod before he’s jacking his hips up into you faster, rubbing tight circles around your clit to send you careening over the edge.  

You can’t moan, so you suck. Your eyes water, and your thighs twitch, and you shake apart right there in his lap, in front of god and everyone. 

Silently. 

Like the good girl you are.

“Jesus,” he buries his face in the crook of your neck, gasping a weak strangled sound as your body clenches around him. 

His muscles are drawing taut, his thighs and his  stomach tensing. He’s breathing shaky and shallow, and you want him to break; want him to lose it so you can call him a slut later and goad him into giving it to you all over again. 

So you let yourself go boneless in his lap. You tip your head back against his shoulder, and you make damn sure he hears it when you choke out “do it, Daddy,” around the gag of his fingers.

And he does. He comes inside you with his teeth sunk into the flesh of your shoulder and his hand white-knuckling a grip on your thigh. 

It’s objectively disgusting, the half-hour drive home you’re gonna be facing with his come dripping out of you. But you’d put good money on him pulling you into the backseat and licking you clean before you even start the car, so you can’t bring yourself to give a shit.

“Christ,” he shakes his head softly, slipping his fingers from your mouth and wiping them on your skirt. “Can’t fuckin’ take you anywhere.” 

“You could take me home.”

There’s too many clothes on you, too many eyes and ears around you for the way your skin’s buzzing; the way you’ve barely scratched the surface of that rippling need inside you. 

He hums at your back, pulling out of you slow and tugging your ruined panties back into place. “Just you? Or you wanna invite your friend?” 

You can hear the smirk in his voice and you know he’s fucking with you when he cocks his head toward the stage. But you chance a look up there and she winks right at you, and it’s not the worst idea he’s ever had.

“Two girls at once, huh?” You arch a brow at him, incredulous. “You think you got the stamina for that?” 

He holds your stare as he downs the rest of his drink, sweeps his tongue out over his slick bottom lip. 

“Well her shift ends in ten minutes,” he rumbles, “...why don’t we find out?”

***

And there you have it, the beginning and end of my het-writing career. Goodnight and good luck everyone, and the happiest of birthdays to you my beautiful soul sister 😘

#i love her a normal amount #my soul sister #if this doesn’t show my affection #I don’t know what will

[the-iceni-bitch]

Can you do 27 & 72 & 75 with Ransom?

27) “Oh honey, you know, you really shouldn’t tease me.”

72) “Maybe I should leave you like this, that way anyone who wanted to use you could have a go with you. Would you like that?”

75) “You know, you look real pretty when you cry.”

Oho, this is going to be a really good one!!!! It’s our OTP again so tagging my ladies @egcdeath @stargazingfangirl18 @chrissquares @subtlebucky! (And @slothspaghettiwrites cuz I like to target her with mommy kink shit 😉)

(Also, this ended up being a little longer than intended by whatever)

So much smutty smut, no minors!!!!

Send me smutty prompts!!!

You were going over some financial reports for the charity when you got a text from Ransom, begging you to come rescue him from some event for his grandfather’s publishing company downtown.

I told you, I have to get these done tonight. You texted back, shaking your head at him.

But I’m so bored. He texted back. I got dressed up and everything.

You sighed at that, knowing he was trying to bait you but those reports were boring a hole in your brain so what the hell.

What’re you wearing?

He texted you back a photo of him in a tux, and fuck if he didn’t look great.

Oh honey, you know you really shouldn’t tease me. Doesn’t seem that special, it’s just a tux. You teased him, leaning back in your chair.

His next photo had you almost falling out of your seat as you lost your balance on the back legs. He’d gone to the bathroom and removed his jacket and shirt until he was only in his bow tie and slacks. And tied around his torso in a pattern of intricate knots were the beautiful silk ropes he had gotten you for Valentine’s Day.

The reports could wait.

Gimme 45 mins. You texted back, flying out of your chair to find something relatively fancy to throw on.

You may or may not have run a couple of red lights, but you made it to the hotel in your estimated window, grinning when you saw Ransom waiting for you at the entrance. You handed your keys to the valet as you scurried to join him.

“Hey baby.” You muttered when you reached him, pressing yourself into his chest as you pulled his face to yours and kissed him hungrily.

“Shit, hi.” He murmured around a grin as you broke away and started to drag him through the lobby.

“Where’s the fucking bathroom?” You asked him over your shoulder.

“Jesus, I was thinking we could maybe get a drink first.” He said, rolling his eyes at you.

You turned and stepped into him suddenly, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling his face level with yours as you glared at him.

“I asked you a fucking question, pretty boy.” You purred, bringing your other hand to squeeze his cock through his slacks.

“Shit.” He gasped as you ran your nose over his cheek before sucking his earlobe between your teeth. “It’s this way.”

“That’s my good boy.” You muttered as you followed behind him at a leisurely pace, appreciating the view of his ass in that tux.

The two of you reached the bathroom and Ransom went in first to ensure it was empty before coming out and grabbing you. You flipped the lock before turning back to him with a massive grin splitting your face.

“Strip.” You ordered him as you leaned against the counter, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Yes ma’am.” He said hoarsely as he started to undo his tie.

You watched him appreciatively as he removed his tux, folding each article of clothing and placing it on the counter beside him. You moaned once he was naked in front of you, the pattern of the ropes making his already fantastic body look even more delicious.

“Shit, did you do all this yourself baby?” You purred as you walked toward him.

“Yeah, I wanted to surprise you mommy.” He rasped as you reached out and ran your fingers over the ropes that ran over his chest. “Did I do a good job?”

“You did so good, baby boy.” You cooed, grabbing one of the loops over his chest and yanking until his mouth was right against yours, making him whine against your lips. “Now kneel for mommy.”

He did as he was told, his breath coming in shallow pants as you moved to stand behind him. He whined as you knelt behind him, making adjustments to the ropes until his hands were bound against the small of his back and looped around his right ankle.

“You look so pretty, sweetie.” You purred in his ear as you moved back around to his front. “Look at how hard you are, and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“Fuck, please mommy.” He whined as you wrapped your hand around his length and gave him a squeeze.

“You wanna feel mommy’s pussy around that pretty cock baby?” You moaned against his lips, grinning as he nodded vigorously, his chest heaving against yours. “Ok, sweet boy.”

You pushed him back until he was laying against the cold floor, his hands and feet tucked under his back. He groaned as you climbed on top of him, drawing your skirt up around your waist as you sank onto his length.

“Fuck, oh god, that feels so good honey.” You moaned as you started to ride him, bouncing up and down on his cock as your pussy fluttered and clenched around his girth. “You look so pretty all tied up like this. Maybe I should leave you like this, that way anyone who wanted to use you could have a go with you. Would you like that?”

The only answer he gave you was a whimper as you ground against him, his eyes screwed shut as he tried to buck up into you. His eyes flew open when you slapped him across the cheek, his breath hitching as his cock twitched inside you.

“Mommy asked you a question.” You growled as you rested your hand on his chest, your other hand reaching towards the counter to grab his bow tie. “Answer me and I’ll choke you the way I know you like.”

“Yes mommy, I’d let anyone you want to use me.” He gasped, whimpering as you wrapped the tie around his neck and squeezed.

“That’s my good boy.” You cooed, squeezing even harder as tears started to leak down his cheeks. “You know, you look real pretty when you cry.”

He just wheezed as you started riding him harder, your hips slapping against his as your pussy clenched around him. His vision was starting to black out as you moaned over him.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum all over that pretty cock.” You hissed. “Don’t you dare cum first Hugh, or I really will leave you here like this.”

He groaned as you fluttered wildly around him, a sob ripping out of your chest as your release leaked out of you and soaked his thighs. His release was right behind yours, his hips trying to buck into you as his cock swelled and throbbed inside you before his spend was coating your canal in warmth.

“My boy is so good to me.” You purred at him, climbing off him with a wince as he just laid there panting. You undid the bindings on his hands and foot and helped him sit up, pressing your lips to his.

“God, Y/N.” He huffed, his breath still ragged in his chest. “I should surprise you with kinky shit more often.”

“Yeah, you definitely should.” You said with a grin, standing up and running your fingers through your hair. “Splash some water on your face, Hugh. We can’t have your family knowing my pussy makes you cry.”

——————————————————————————

A/N: I told you bitches, I’m gonna give you whiplash with these two!!!!

#natalie answers #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans characters #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom x you #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom smut #ransom drysdale #shibari #mommy kink #smut #eighteen and over #eighteen plus #smut prompts

[purefrostbyte]

Heavenly Bride

BNHA Japanese God AU

Agyo!Bakugo

 Rating: Smut

Heavenly Bride

 The ash blonde was sat at his desk, looking through shitty paperwork and answering prayers. He had been stressed all day, and the fact everyone in the Heavenly Realm added onto it didn’t help his nerves. He was about to throw a tantrum at a poor palace guard when your voice filled his ears, the honey laced sound that instantly made him sit back down and listen to what you had to say. He remembers the first time he heard you, you had done nothing but ask him questions, sitting by his statue in the temple while you cleaned and polished it. At first he found you annoying, especially when you seemed to take a liking to talking to him every day. But as time went on and he heard more of your stories and questions, the ash blonde god found himself infatuated with you. The first time he saw you he had to physically stop himself from scooping you up and taking you with him back to the Heavenly Realm.

You were the most beautiful girl in your village, the villages pride and joy. You were kind and polite, though you definitely had a bit of an attitude. It only made Agyo fall harder for you. You often left offerings of red peppers, or on occasion when you could, a whole bowl of curry that the god would greedily scoff down before physically taking your plate back to you and leaving it in your room. The first time it happened you were shocked to see the bowl, thinking someone broke into your room to place it. But as time went on you started to realize the appearance of the bowl was a lot more heavenly then you could ever have thought. It was then he decided to plague your dreams, often finding ways to work you up and tease you to leave you hot and bothered in the morning.

He never directly told you who he was, but one look at him and you knew exactly who he was. He listen to your voice, guard long forgotten and fleeing in hope to not endure the wrath of the God of Overt Violence. Bakugo frowned when he heard you sniffle, and his fist clenched with the words you spoke. “Dear God Agyo. Help me please! My parents…they have betrothed me. I don’t wish to marry this man, word is he’s had 3 past wives who all vanished and…” you bit your lip as tears streamed down your face, sliding to your knees in front of his statue. Bakugo’s eyebrows furrowed, No! You couldn’t marry someone else, you were is goddamn it.

After your visit to the temple that night Bakugo didn’t hear from you. He had watched from above as you sat in you room, tears staining your beautiful kimono. It pained him to watch as something…someone, he had become attached to be filled with such sorrow and hatred. That was until one day, your fiancé had dared to raise a hand to you in public. Bakugo’s blood flowed hot with anger, and no amount of Heavenly Realm policy bullshit was gonna get in his way. The people of your village watched as a golden light flooded the street, gasping as a man appeared in the street. Unruly ash blonde spikes, a body of a god (Literally) with only a hakama hanging off his hips and those vermillion eyes that held nothing but anger for the man who had dared to strike you.

Your family gasped as Bakugo used his magic to send the man flying backwards, crashing through a brick wall that was surely going to leave a lot of damage to his body if not treated properly. The whole street bowed in respect to the God who had paid their village a visit, but Bakugo paid no mind to them as his rage continued to flare. He stepped forward, fully intending to beat the man to his last dying breath, but the feeling of your soft hand wrapped around his wrist stopped him. You family gaped from the sidelines, hissing for you to let go of the God and bow. Instead your eyes filled with tears and you hugged the Ash blonde god as you cried silently into his chest.

Bakugo held you close, glaring daggers at your family and in the direction of your now ex fiancé. “Listen here!” he yelled, voice booming with authority and power, “This is MY bride, and if any one of you ever lay a finger on her, you will find yourself in the deepest corners of hell. I’ll make bloody sure of it!” The village cowered in fear, shocked that their pride and joy was claimed by the god. He looked down at you, watching how your e/c eyes stared back at him in shock and happiness. He stroked your head before bending to whisper in your ear, “Let’s go home beautiful.” Your cheeks flushed as you nodded, taking his hand as he whisked you away from your village and your family.

You now stood in his study, gasping at the detail in the décor and how beautiful the whole place was. Bakugo wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you towards him, breath tickling your neck in a way he knew drove you crazy. Your old kimono was now replaced, a beautiful white silk and satin kimono adorning your figure. You felt like a princess in it. Two large hands incased your hips and you were spun around to see your God. His vermillion eyes burnt holes into the bruise forming on your cheek and he wanted nothing more than to kill the man who had caused it.

Feeling his anger, you lifted one of his hands to cup your bruised cheek, nuzzling his palm affectionately as a sign that you were ok. “I should have killed him,” Bakugo voiced and you shook your head, voice coming out softly. “Death would be a mercy.” Bakugo let out a sigh of agreement and he watched as you nervously bit your lip, something you did when you had something to say but were afraid to say it. An action you only ever did with him.

“Talk to me beautiful, what’s on that mind of yours?” he rasped and you couldn’t help but crumble to his every want and need. “Did you mean it?” you whispered softly and Bakugo raised an eyebrow, “Did you mean it…when you said…that I’m-“ Bakugo let out a soft chuckle, “What? Did I mean it when I said that you’re my bride?” You let out a soft moan when he nipped at your ear and then dragged his tongue up your neck. “Every. Fucking. Word.” he growled and he enjoyed your content sigh when he pressed an open mouth kiss to your jugular.

You could feel your core dampen, he always had this affect on you. When he visited you in your dreams, he always left you wanting more and now was no different. Bakugo smirked against your neck, well aware of what he was doing. He wanted you needy, wanted you begging for him. He gently pushed you back against his desk, using magic to make all the unwanted things fly off so he could seat you on it. Your breathing hitched as Bakugo slotted in between your legs, hiking the skirt over your knees so he could grind against you. He smirked at you, that smirk that had your head spinning and knees buckling. He then moved his hips against yours and you threw your head back in pleasure. Bakugo’s grin turned feral and you couldn’t help but pull him into a kiss.

He was surprised at first but quickly took charge and you happily opened up to allowed him to do what he wanted. He smirked into your mouth and snaked a hand down between your legs to rub circles against your clit. You pulled away from the kiss to throw your head back and moan loudly. Bakugo smirked, about to kneel down between your legs when you throw him off balance. He was now backed against the desk with you hurriedly undoing his hakama. You had sucked him off before, to be fair it had been a dream but technically you still had. Once he was rid of the article, you looked up at him with innocent eyes before sinking down to your knees. Bakugo couldn’t help but grin, finally having you here, like this, all for him. You wrapped your hands around his base and kitten licked his tip, causing him to groan and thread his fingers through you c/h hair. You curled your tongue around his tip before taking it fully into your mouth and sucking. Bakugo growled and tuggged at your hair and you choked down the moan that blossomed in your throat, you didn’t want him to know you enjoyed that.

Bakugo noticed and he gripped the hair at the base of your skull and tugged harshly. The moan you produced was absolutely sinful. It sent delicious vibrations up his shaft and just as you decided to push him further down your throat, you heard the sound of footsteps coming towards the door. “Bakugo!” a voice called and Bakugo growled “Why now,” he groaned and he looks down at you. You were just about to pop off him when he grabbed you head and moved the both of you around the desk so that you were sat under it and in-between his legs. You look up at him and he simply smirked at you and put a finger to his lip. You nod and bit your lip as you heard the doors being thrown open.

“Dude! When were you gonna tell me you had a bride?!” You heard a cheery voice call as he entered the room. You took in a deep breath, nervous of being caught like this. “It wasn’t any of your damn business Shitty Hair! Now what do you want?” Bakugo snapped, fuck maybe he shouldn’t have placed you under the desk. Every breath you let out was directly on his member and he wanted nothing more than to bury himself inside you. You saw his member twitch, and you bit you lip as an idea popped into your head. It was risky and Bakugo could punish you because of it, but that thought only made you want to do it more.

You carefully shifted forward, mindful to not make any noise to alert the other God to of presence. You could just see Bakugo’s face from under the desk and you deliberately let out a breath on his tip. You watched Bakugo take a deep breath, eyes shifting down to look at you before looking back at the other god. “Dude,” the other God whined, “I wanna meet her! Come on, I wanna see what beautiful human captured your attention.” Bakugo hissed, not due to anger but due to you sinking fully down on him. ‘Fuck,’ he thought to himself, ‘Shitty Hair just fuck off!’

“You can…. You can fucking meet her at the wedding,” he snapped but the stutter alerted the other god. “Dude you good? You stuttered.” Bakugo rolled his eyes, fingers snaking down into your hair. “I’m fine Shitty Hair, but I got shit to do and you’re keeping me from it.” Kirishima smirked at Bakugo, “Oh? Is it planning the wedding, or claiming her as yours?” Bakugo growled and you couldn’t help but freeze. Did he know you were there? Bakugo gave your hair a small squeeze of reassurance. “Shitty Hair what happens in my bedroom is none of your fucking business. Can’t you go find your ‘little lion’ and leave me alone!?” Kirishima chuckled, “Alright dude! I’ll go, but I wanna meet her. And before the wedding!” Bakugo growled, “Fine.”

You waited for Kirishima’s steps to dissipate completely before popping your head out from under the desk. “Fuck,” he groaned and he looked down at you, “You sure are a little Kitsune aren’t you? Sucking me off with someone who could easily have caught you.” He moved his chair back and patted his lap and you happily obligated to sit down. “Ah,” he said, a smirk pulling at his face, “Kimono off.” Your face flushed but you obeyed, slowly undoing the ribbons that held it all together before letting it gracefully slip down your shoulders. Bakugo growled, licking his lips before beckoning for you to come and sit down on him.

You bit your lip as you began to straddle his legs, breath hitching when you feel his tip kiss the rim of your core. Bakugo placed a hand on your hip, “Relax Princess, let me take care of you.” He whispered and you relaxed and let him take the lead. He guided you down and you couldn’t help the breathy moan that escaped you. When you were fully seated you lay your head on his shoulder, breathing deeply as you adjusted. Bakugo held you close, sucking the tender skin of your neck to distract you. His ears drunk in your quiet whines and soft moans, enjoying the way he sunk his teeth into you and sucked your skin in a possessive nature.

You bucked your hips experimentally and you moaned at the feeling of Bakugo’s tip just kissing you sweet spot. You took a deep breath, before lifting your hips up and dropping back down. Bakugo groaned at the way you squeezed him and you moaned at the feeling of being full. Bakugo slid his hand onto your ass and squeezed, starting to help you bounce up and down on him. “Baku,” you moaned, burying your head into the crook of his neck. Hearing you call him like that made everything in him spark. He picked you up and slammed you into the desk, thrusting hard and deep into you making you see stars. “Katsuki,” he rasped against the shell of your ear. “Huh?” you asked, words not forming due to the amount of pleasure you were in. “My name is Katsuki, and I want you to moan it so loud the whole Heavenly Realm can hear.”

He rammed into you, biting and sucking at your neck causing you to scream and wither in pleasure under him. “Katsu-….oh god Katsuki!” you moaned and Bakugo growled into your ear. “You gonna cum baby?” he asked, already knowing the answer due to how you squeezed him. “Cum for me,” he ordered and you obeyed like the obedient girl you were. You came around him, screaming his name and clamping down around him. Bakugo groaned and came after you, due to the way you squeezed around him.  “Fuck baby,” he groaned as he stopped moving. You were still panting, hair sticking to you due to sweat. “Come on baby,” he whispered picking you up, “I think you deserve a nap.”

#aygo!bakugo #bnha japanese god au #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha #bnha smut

[samsexualdeancurious]

Pretty Baby (There's Nothing That I Wouldn't Do) (NSFW)

Pairing: Sam x Dean x Jess

Words: 1,954

Summary: Dean and Jess picked out a Halloween costume for Sam and they might like it a little too much.

Warnings: WINCEST, bottom!Sam, top!Dean, some costume stuff, oral sex (Jess receiving), and all the fun things that come along with Sam getting fucked.

A/N: This resulted from the pondering of what might have happened if John died pre-series and a long conversation with @samsbighonkintiddies that turned into an AU we're calling the Good, Bad, All That I've Got Verse 😅 Oops. Don't be surprised if you see more of these guys in the future!

---

October 31st, 2006

Sam’s stocking-covered heel rests on Dean’s shoulder, his other impossibly-long leg splayed to the side. His blush has deepened, pink creeping from his cheeks to his chest as Dean’s huge hand strokes down the outside of his leg. Jess stretches out beside Sam on the bed and pulls his leg over hers, opening him up even more to Dean’s hungry gaze.

“Jess,” Sam gasps when her slender fingers dance up the inside of his thigh.

She grins and presses a kiss to the curve of his shoulder. “Yes?”

“Don’t tease.”

“It’s not teasing if we plan to follow through,” Dean smirks and his brother huffs.

“Please.”

“Oh, I like that.” Jess teases at the top of the stocking, her touch sending shivers through his body. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

--

This hadn’t been the plan. They were supposed to go out. There’s a Halloween party down the street at Brady’s place, and they were going to hit up another party at a bar later in the night. All those plans went out the window, though, the minute Dean and Jess laid eyes on Sam in his costume.

They’d picked it out for him, of course. A little plaid skirt, white button-up, and grey sweater, à la Brittney Spears “...Baby One More Time” - Jess’s idea, surprisingly. A pair of black stockings and heels complete the look. Sam had stammered and blushed so pretty but caved easily when Jess turned those big blue eyes on him.

“Just try it on,” she said. “For us?”

Sam huffed, grumbled under his breath, and took the clothes into the bathroom to change. When he emerged about ten minutes later, fully dressed from the tied up shirt to the heels, Dean’s pretty sure his brain broke with how quickly the blood rushed to his dick.

“Oh, shit.”

Sam’s cheeks are burning, adorable spots of color high on his cheeks as Dean takes in the sight of him. His baby brother has grown up a lot in the last few years, shedding almost every bit of lingering baby fat in return for lean muscles that look absolutely sinful wrapped up in the soft fabrics of the outfit. He’s pouting a little, though, and Dean can’t unsee the snarky teenager in that expression. Some things never change, including the slight whine in Sam’s voice when he says, “There's no way I'm walking to Brady’s or going anywhere near a bar in these heels.”

Jess exits the closet at that moment, dressed in a sexy witch costume that Dean had rolled his eyes at in store but is definitely changing his mind about now, and lets out a low whistle when her eyes land on Sam. “Oh, baby,” she says in that tone Dean is quickly learning guarantees all sorts of good things. “That shouldn't be a problem. I don't think you're going any further than our bed.”

--

That’s where Sam is now, sprawled on his back in the center of their mattress. His heels and sweater are gone, his skirt draped between his legs to maintain what little modesty Sam has left. His shirt is wide open, baring his chest to Jess’s questing hands, and his stockings have been left on at Dean’s insistence. They’re just simple, black stockings but Dean’s already thinking of all the possible outfits they might be able to get Sam to wear in the future. Maybe white next time, with lace.

“C’mon, Sam,” Jess purrs. “Tell us what you want.”

Sam squirms, caught between Dean’s hand on his ankles and Jess’s on his thigh and chest. “I want Dean to fuck me.”

Dean can’t suppress a groan at that. “Happily.”

Jess smirks up at Dean, something mischievous in her eyes. “Wanna show Dean the surprise I planned for him?”

Sam’s breath hitches and Dean’s eyes jump between their faces, confused until Sam’s hands creep down to the hem of his skirt.

“Go on,” Jess encourages. “Show him.”

At first Dean’s not sure what he’s seeing, as Sam nervously lifts his skirt, but then things click into place and he has to drop a hand down to press the heel of it against his dick through his jeans. The panties are black, like Sam’s stockings, with little ruffles along the edges and a tiny matching bow at the top, right above Sam’s hard cock.

“Sam,” Dean moans, sliding his hand down to touch the ruffles at the top of his brother’s thigh. “Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

Jess grins, her hand mirroring Dean’s on the other side. “You like?”

“Fucking gorgeous.” Dean presses a kiss to the inside of Sam’s ankle. “God, Sam, you should see yourself. Never seen anything like you before.”

Sam’s still blushing but he doesn’t seem as nervous as before. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.” Allowing Sam’s leg to slide from his shoulder to the crook of his arm, Dean leans forward to capture his brother’s lips in a kiss. “Gonna give you what you want.”

“‘Bout time.”

Jess laughs and Dean rolls his eyes, reaching over to grab the lube from the bedside table. Not even nerves can kill that little brother sass, apparently.

“Definitely leaving these on,” Dean says as he pulls the panties to the side and presses two lube-slicked fingers against his brother’s hole. “I wanna see you ruin them.”

Jess sits up and reaches down to take over holding the panties out of the way. “I second that.”

Sam just groans, head thrown back against the pillow as Dean begins working him open. His abs flex as he rolls his hips down against his brother’s hand. They haven’t been at it long but Sam already looks debauched. His lips are kiss-swollen and shiny in the lamplight, parted to let out breathy little sounds, each of which goes right to Dean’s cock.

“Should put that mouth to good use,” Dean suggests, two fingers knuckle-deep in his brother’s hole. He meets Jess’s gaze and she grins.

“I like the way you think, Winchester.”

She lifts her own skirt to reveal red panties in a similar style to Sam’s. These are quickly shimmied down her long legs - how did Dean land two partners with absolutely fantastic legs? He’s not sure but he’ll never complain - and tossed aside. Sam is already reaching for her, his hands huge against her thighs as he guides her to straddle his face. Jess tosses her curls over her shoulder with a sigh as she settles into place exactly where he wants her. Dean takes in that sight with a groan, admiring the curves of her body when her back arches with pleasure and her head tips back. He’s going to have to get her to wear that costume again for sure.

“You gonna fuck your brother any time tonight?” Jess asks, one hand flailing a little before Sam catches it with his own and holds her steady.

Dean curls his fingers just to hear Sam’s muffled sounds of pleasure, which are echoed by Jess. He grins. “Get to it.”

It’s Dean’s turn to strip now. His costume isn’t anything special, especially since he left his cowboy hat and boots in the living room, but he did put his belt on already and he regrets that when he has to take the extra time to get that off before he can shed his jeans.

“De-ean,” Sam whines from beneath Jess and Dean looks up from kicking his jeans off to see his brother spread his legs even wider. His panties are still twisted to the side, ruffles caught between his ass cheeks where Dean can see the shine of lube waiting for him.

“Fuck.” Dean scrambles up the bed to kneel between Sam’s legs again. “I gotcha.”

“He’s getting impatient,” Jess says with a breathy laugh, her hips rolling as Sam gets to work again. “Oh, fuck, right there.”

Dean quickly slicks his cock and lines up. Sam’s tight, even after all Dean’s work opening him up, and his fingers flex against Jess’s thigh when the head of Dean’s cock pops inside.

“Fucking perfect,” Dean praises. He pets Sam’s inner thighs, soothing his trembling muscles as Dean works his way deeper. “Feel so good.”

Jess cries out then and falls forward. Dean instinctively throws his arms up to catch her and she clings to him, fingernails digging into his bicep as her body spasms through an orgasm. Sam holds her in place until she’s whining and pulling away. They ease her to lay down above Sam’s head, curled on her side to catch her breath as she watches them through hooded eyes.

Free of Jess’s weight, Sam reaches up to grab at Dean’s shoulders and yank him down into a kiss. He tastes like her but the low growl of “Fuck me” he lets out against Dean’s lips is all Sam.

Dean’s never been able to say no to Sam and he’s not about to start now. He drives in the rest of the way in one smooth push, echoing Sam’s sound of pleasure with one of his own.

“C’mon,” Sam hisses in his ear. “Give it to me, big brother.”

Dean does just that. He would normally start slow, give Sam time to get used to the intrusion, but not tonight. Not with stocking-clad knees tight around his hips and the brush of silky panty ruffles against the side of his dick. Sam’s arms are looped around Dean’s neck, holding him close so he can pant words of encouragement in the elder Winchester’s ear. Dean’s arms creep their way under Sam’s lower back and hold on like Sam will vanish if he loosens up. Sam’s narrow waist fits perfectly into Dean’s embrace. Moments like these, it feels as if they were made to fit together. Maybe they were.

Pleasure coils at the base of Dean’s spine and he drives in deeper, like doing so will somehow connect them together even more. Like he can crawl inside Sam’s skin if he just tries hard enough. He can’t, he knows he can’t, but what he can do is change the angle of his hips just so and punch a wail of pleasure from his brother’s throat.

“Yeah,” Dean grunts, hips working. “Yeah, let it go. Wanna feel it.”

Sam buries his face in Dean’s neck with a cry and his whole body clenches, releases, clenches again as he falls over that edge. Dean doesn’t slow down, even when Sam goes limp in his arms. The sounds Sam’s making shift to something a little whiny, probably oversensitive, but he doesn’t tell Dean to stop and so Dean doesn’t, not until he’s reached his own peak and spilled deep in his brother’s body.

Silence falls over the room, broken only by their breathing as they calm down. When Dean lifts his head, he finds that Jess has rolled onto her back and her hand is working between her thighs.

“Let me,” he offers, reaching out, and she moves her hand to let him replace it with his own. She’s absolutely soaked, wetter than the front of Sam’s panties where the brothers are pressed together, and it doesn’t take much to have her cumming on his fingers. “We put on a good show, huh?”

“Always do,” she replies with a grin and a lazy stretch. “I should probably let Brady know we’re probably not gonna make it to his party.”

Dean takes a glance at Sam’s fucked-out expression and laughs. “Yeah. I’d say the chances of us showing up are pretty low.”

Jess rolls onto her side again and presses a kiss to Sam’s temple. “Still hate Halloween?”

Sam huffs out a laugh, still a bit breathless. “I dunno. If we keep celebrating like this, I might come around to it.”

--

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—

Team Forever: @mrswhozeewhatsis @laughing-at-the-darkness @tumbler-tidbits @imsuperawkward @emoryhemsworth

#wincest #sam x dean x jess #samdeanjess #supernatural #supernatural fanfic

[ateezmakemeweep]

churchboy!san

word count: 4k

smut

there were a lot of different places one would go after a night of heavy drinking. an exes house, another bar, the smart ones usually heading home to pass out or sober up.

but you. you went to church.

stumbling in through the grand wooden doors, you trip over the entrance mat and nearly knock into the statue that greets you and your family every single blessed Sunday.

"ooops, sorry, girl," you mutter out, steadying the wobbling stone before walking all the way down the aisle. your heels clack against the floor, echoing throughout the empty building before you finally plop down into the first pew.

you lean back against it, stretching your back out and looking at the church with a sneer. because it's this very place that's been giving you so much grief over these past few days.

you've been trying to convince your parents that this kind of life just might not be for you, that devoting your sundays to services and prayers, preaching the lord's word to any single person you come across and hoping that 'with gods love,' you can overcome any tragedy, just isn't how you see the world.

but of course questioning the lord is 'highly unacceptable and sinful' and apparently you missed the scripture that deemed it okay to slap and kick your teenage daughter to the curb because she simply questioned the teachings that were forced down her throat since the day she was born.

so you went out, fake id in hand and bought the cheapest vodka you could find, climbed over the park fence just a block away and swung lightly on the swing comforted by the cold air and harsh sting of alcohol burning your throat.

that was until you noticed the same car pass you by three times, slowing to take in your lonely figure and even in your drunken state, you realized the potential danger. so you quickly made your way out and before you even realized it, you were standing in front of god's welcoming home.

your eyes now roam over the alter, a slight light from the stained glass windows brightening the dim area where the crucifix is displayed.

"i know you're supposed to be like pretty marvelous or whatever," your slurred voice echoes as you look at jesus nailed to the cross, "but all your followers sure are fucking assholes."

you think you hear a door open and you whip your head around, looking to the right and left several times before huffing because who really cares.

"if you're the creep with the car, just fuck off now."

but you don't hear any footsteps nor do you hear a voice or the sound of breathing so you spring up and walk up the three steps to stand at the alter, facing the multiple rows of pews as you let out a bitter laugh.

you watch every single week these seats fill with people from town, the wife beaters and gay bashers and school bullies who partake in the deadly sins of lustful adultery and distasteful envy of anyone prettier or smarter or richer than them. 

"and so i ask of you, today," you start to drunkenly yell like the pastor up here every week, "love thy neighbor as thyself, unless of course," you dramatically gasp, "they're gay!? and everyone! don't forget to love thy children unless they don't become brainwashed by our oh so righteousness and holier than thou ways, father!"

you're drunkenly stumbling around in your heels and black skirt, lace tights reaching mid-thigh as your shirt starts to ride up from your waving arms.

and little to your knowledge, a figure has been looming in the dark watching the whole ordeal take place before his very eyes.

he doesn't know how to feel about it, watching you make a mockery out of what his father does for a living, what his father put in such hard work towards and built from the ground up for the community.

but he can't deny that some of your points make sense, seeing every week the people everyone knows are bad come in here and pray like that's gonna heal the bruises they've inflicted or fix the broken hearts of significant others cheated on.

"and please, make sure you give your generous donations to the church, everyone!" you mule on and the boy's eyebrows now furrow, hoping you're gonna tread lightly, "because, yes, your hard-earned money goes to our god himself! not in the pocket of some corrupt priest whose eyes linger on little-"

your words halt when your gaze moves to the back of the church and none another than choi san comes walking down the aisle, perfect posture and demeanor no different, now, at 1 a.m. than it is at 9:30 mass.

"oh, look who it is," you say cheerily as you nearly bust your ass walking down the stairs, "the pastor's son."

"that was a...unique sermon, y/n."

you've known san ever since you started high school, probably one of the most attractive boys in the area but unfortunately, a sad victim of this institute. you watch him every week, bowing politely and throwing that dimply smile around looking like picture of innocence and purity parents strive for in their kids.

"it was good, wasn't it?" you say, stumbling toward him until you're both standing a few feet away from each other, "think your daddy would let me speak up there?" and if he didn't already think you were hammered, he definitely does now with your bold, slurred words.

"are you drunk?" he asks and the light casted from outside allows you to see his twisted face looking at you intensely.

you inch forward, nail trailing down his chest as you turn your head to look at him coyly. "it appears...i may have gotten a little carried away with the blood of christ."

"hm," is all he hums, trying to stop his eyes from trailing over your outfit. because you definitely do not look like you belong here right now. he's used to seeing you in cardigans and dresses that come to your knees, not something out of a bad porno.

"where were you?"

"around," you mutter, tracing a circle around his shirt causing goosebumps to pepper over his skin, "and where were you? why are you here at this hour?"

"couldn't sleep," he mumbles as his eyes remain on your face.

a short, breathy laugh leaves your mouth as your eyebrow raises. "oh? and what keeps choi san up at night? trying to think of more ways to bring god into this wholesome community?"

he looks at you with an unfazed expression, hard eyes on you and a playful smirk crosses your face a few seconds later.

"ohhh,” you drag out, “or did you have...bigger issues at hand?"

there's something about the way you say it, voice breathy and alluring mixed with your dark, teasing gaze that has him swallowing the dry lump in his throat.

"no," he grunts out with a blush creeping on his face and you laugh when his voice nearly cracks.

"oh no?" your hand travels up to his chin, grabbing it between your fingers and pulling his face down to get a better look at him, "because your eyes have been glued to my face for the past 30 seconds. tell me san, does it make you uncomfortable that i'm dressed like a whore in your church?"

you watch as his eyes widen and brows shoot up and you could laugh again at how innocent and surprised he truly looks. "don't call yourself that."

a pout covers your mouth because sweet, before you take a step closer to him. but this only makes him step further away until the back of his knees hit the hard, wooden pew. he stumbles down onto it and now you're looming over him, his legs just grazing between yours.

"oh, but aren't i? i certainly look like one."

he takes a deep breath as he finally allows his eyes to roam over you, a sliver of skin visible from your small, bunched up shirt. black skirt fitting tight over your lower body, lace covering your skin and heels making your legs look extra long.

he licks his dry mouth, unable to get any words out and doesn't even realize his hands are reaching for your waist until you smack them away, a mock gasp leaving your mouth.

"now wait a minute! does the pastor's son actually like a whore?"

you watch him shake his head as you use that word again but you can only lean in more, his legs pressing into yours now as you bend down so your lips graze his ear.

"that sounds like something you should take to confession, san," you whisper, taking the tip of his ear in your mouth and letting your teeth graze it lightly. you smile against his skin when you hear a harsh breath leave his mouth and a part of you starts to wonder if he's a virgin.

further excitement rushes through you, wetness seeping between your legs because corrupting a pastor's son right in church. what bigger fuck you is that?

"you're not a whore," is what he grunts out again and you pull back to look at him with a questioning gaze.

"i'm not?" you ask, voice airy and light before you slightly lift your skirt up and straddle his waist. another sharp breath leaves his mouth and you smirk when you feel his bulge pressing against your underwear.

"then let me know why i wanna fuck you right now," you say lowly in his ear, "why i've wanted to fuck you for quite some time now." you lower your mouth to his neck, hot wet tongue licking over the freckles you've noticed one too many times during sunday mass.

"what do you think gets me through service every sunday?" you mumble against his skin, "thinking about me bent over one of these pews with your cock buried inside me." 

his head falls back as his dick hardens in his pants, your words and hot breath and wet thong gliding over him causing him to nearly pass out.

"it's funny too because i don't think you know how hot you are," you say when you pull back and see his head tipped back in what looks like pleasure and agony.

it takes him a few seconds to gather his composure, your heat under him causing his body all sorts of trouble.

"well i...i don't think you know how good you actually are," he eventually grunts out before bringing his head up just in time to see your eyes flash. he thinks, knows, that was the wrong thing to say to you but even with arousal filing his veins, it's what he wanted to say.

because you are good, he's watched you in school and at church and in town treat everyone with fairness and respect and dignity. it's preaching he listens to over and over every sunday but knows even the most avid clergy members here fail to truly abide by it.

but you can only scoff before rolling your hips over his crotch, feeling his bulge has grown even harder and bigger under you and now the friction is enough to stimulate you through the cotton.

"if i'm so good, can i kneel for you then?"

his adams apple bobs as you look at him with heated a gaze and he resists the urge to grind himself into you. he never ever thought he'd be in this kind of predicament.

"what?"

a smile crosses your face before you peck his lips so quickly he doesn't even realize you kissed him. he watches in a daze as you get off his lap and turn yourself around, bending as you drop your skirt, underwear and tights down in one quick tug to your calves.

he's met with the sight of your ass and wet pussy bent over in his face, the windows casting a light over you and he feels his cock jump and strain in his pants, begging and screaming to be let free. he resists the urge to groan out at the feeling, wanting more than anything to rip them off and relieve himself the way he always, sinfully, does when he gets the urge.

he wants to reach out and do something, he doesn't even know what, before you're turned back around, dropping to your knees and putting your hands on either side of his legs on the pew.

"can i suck your cock?" you ask, looking up at him with wide pleading eyes that watch in delight as his adams's apple bobs again.

"wh-why?" he grunts out and then hisses when you reach your hand out to stroke him over his pants.

"just because," you whine, rubbing over him more and more and you feel yourself getting wetter, "i want it in my mouth."

he throws his head back with a pained groan and excitement fills you when his hands finally fall to his pants. he shimmies them down, shutting his eyes to try and ignore the fact that he's in his dad's church about to get a blowjob.

his cock springs free immediately and you hum in contentment, spitting and licking over his hard length before moving to the tip eagerly.

"look at me," you demand, his eyes popping open obediently and already looking hazy. and as if you're rewarding him for his lustful gaze, you lick over the tip with a few skillful swirls of your tongue.

a sharp exhale leaves his mouth and then a quiet, short grunt echoes through the room when start bobbing your head up and down on him. cheeks hallowed and tongue lapping as drool eventually sweeps out of your mouth.

you hear his sounds of pleasure above you and just know he's never experienced anything like this yet, his hips bucking into your mouth when he feels an orgasm coming on.

"ah, ah," you scold when you pull back, holding his cock in your hand as you lick a slow stripe up the underside, "good church boys don't do that."

his face is pulled into a grimace, overwhelmed by the sight of you below him and your eyes staring up at him, his cock throbbing and aching to get its release.

"but they don't do this either, do they?" you muse, slapping his tip against your tongue and humming in delight when you taste the salty precum.

"n-no," he groans because he thinks maybe if he talks, you'll put your mouth on him again. suck him off again with your skillful tongue and let him come in your mouth. 

but because you're vengeful and drunk off lust and power over him, you stand up to straddle him again. the second your core is on him, his eyes nearly roll back in pleasure.

“you're...so wet," his whiney voice rings through the church and you smirk at hearing it. 

because it's usually preaching and singing echoing through these walls, not moans and dirty talk.

"you did that," you whisper in his ear, lifting your hips up and teasing your dripping entrance with his cock. you moan out when it rubs over your throbbing clit and you're tempted to sink down on him right there.

"tell me, san," you continue as his hands go to grip your waist, nails digging into you, "are you gonna think about this on sunday? remember me sucking you off and dragging my pussy all over you right here in this seat?"

a moan leaves his mouth again, his eyes and head rolling back when you tease your entrance again, your words breathy and far too accurate.

he'll never be able to look at this pew every again without blushing.

"hm?" you muse over the skin of his neck, licking over his freckles again and smirking against them as you do so because cute. 

"yes," he breaths out, eyes still closed and bucking his hips because he wants to enter you so badly, "i...it's all i'll be able to think about."

his head shoots up when you fly off of him, sliding off your underwear before pulling your skirt up like some dignified lady.

he can only look at you with a pained, confused gaze. his cock is leaking now, pulsing and throbbing and your flushed appearance isn't making it any easier.

"some would say that's sinful, you know that, right?"

he doesn't know what you want him to say but he desperately needs it to be the right thing.

"i'm sorry." his words are tight and choked and you smirk how cute he is.

you tug him up by the shirt, his lax body nearly falling into you. and before he knows what's happening, you're pushing him up the alter and through the archways into the confessional stall.

the room is tiny, dark and dingy with only a little stool facing the closed window where usually the priest would listen and forgive a weeping, guilty soul.

but instead, you're pushing the boy down and climbing on top of him. you line his cock up with your entrance, circling it with the tip again and his loud whine echoes in the stall.

"y/n, please," he begs, "please."

"please what?" you muse, just as needy and desperate for him to be inside of you but also getting off on his begging.

"please fuck me," he whines, "i want to feel your pussy.

you clench when the words fall from his lips and you let out a breathy laugh, placing an open-mouthed kiss on his lips. he kisses back immediately, tongue diving into your mouth with a sloppy, intense fervor.

you pull back to look him in his eyes, "you're gonna have to have a serious talk in this room tomorrow, huh? confess your sin and be forgiven for fucking a whore like me."

and whether it be because he's sick of hearing you call yourself that or because he's just so turned on and ready to bust, he rams his cock into you.

you moan out at the sudden intrusion, his groan bouncing off yours because you're so tight and wet around him.

"i told you...to stop calling yourself that," he grunts out, ramming his cock up into you furiously. with you on top, he's hitting that spot up deep inside you and your mouth is hanging open but you've finally shut up, not being able to form any words.

"but if you wanna be treated like a whore, we could arrange that. is that what you want?"

your eyes nearly bulge out of your head because that was the last thing you expected to hear him say and you can't help the way your pussy clenches around him.

he suddenly stands up, his cock still inside you as he slams you against the wall and fucks up into you like he's done this a hundred times before. his thrusts are hard and deep and steady, hand coming up to rest on your throat and squeezing ever so slightly.

"i bet you're pretty surprised, baby," he hisses in your ear, his cock hitting deep inside you again and making you cry out, "that the pastor's son is doing this to you, aren't you?"

because he heard how you spit the words out before, judgment and teasing dripping in your tone. because he knows you think he’s just an innocent, pure-hearted virgin.

"yes," you breathe out and he scoffs at your honesty.

"you didn't think i had it in me, did you?" his thumb comes up to flick your bottom lip and you open your mouth to suck it. 

"did you?" he asks, seemingly unfazed by your actions and instead, halting his movements. 

you bite down on his finger in frustration. "of course i didn't," you spit out. you were feeling so good, your orgasm building sweetly and the euphoria had just started creeping into your veins. “now can you fucking move!"

"shut your mouth," he growls, tightening his grip on your neck, "and beg for my forgiveness."

"what? no, fuck you," you choke out angrily.

"then you're not coming," he grits out, just as angry. the mood has taken quite a turn, both of you dominant and anger and desperate for release. and you can see in his eyes he’s not kidding.

"but what if i ride you like a good girl," you muse suddenly, head lolling to the side and dark eyes boring into his because desperate times, "then will forgive me?"

and just like that, he's back on the stool and you're bouncing on his cock. the room is creaking and shaking all around you, moans and whines filling the small space until you both come a few moments later with a very ironic cry of, "oh, my god!"

your head is leaned against his shoulder, both of you trying to catch your breath as the stuffy air sticks to your sweaty skin.

"holy shit," you hear him mumble and a short chuckle leaves your mouth. you pull back to see his head leaned back against the wall, his sweaty hair sticking to his head.

"you sure had me fooled, church boy,” you say, teasing in your tone before you mumble, “so am i forgiven?” 

a devilish smirk crosses his face, tongue peaking out to lick at his lips but not uttering any verbal response. he lifts you off him with ease, plopping you on your feet gently before pulling up his pants and kicking open the door.

you follow and quickly scramble for your shirt by the first pew, watching san plop down where you blew him earlier that night.

"i really won't look at this bench the same," he says quietly and a chuckle leaves your mouth as you throw your shirt over your head and sit next to him silently.

you two don't speak for a few minutes, just sit in the quiet reflection that's usually meant for praying and asking for guidance. which you suppose you might need some guidance right now, being homeless and just coming off the high of having sex in a church confessional.

you run your hands through your hair, closing your eyes as you rest your head on the pew. because between the alcohol and your orgasm and your racing brain, you're feeling tired. and sleep can sometimes just help everything.

"why'd you get drunk?" he asks suddenly and your one eye pops open to look at him.

"what?" you ask because that was random.

"i'm sorry, i...don't mean to pry," he says softly and there's the inevitable church boy persona slipping back, "you just seemed..troubled."

"try homeless. my parents kicked me out."

his eyes widen at your bluntness, moving closer to you and looking at you with a questioning gaze.

he doesn't know what to say.

does he ask why? does he apologize?

"i don't know, maybe that's why i came here,” you mull over as your brain races, “because i have no where else to go. even though this place is at fault in the first place," you mumble before shaking your head. 

"sorry i don't know what i'm saying. shouldn't you be getting home?"

san just shrugs, eyes roaming over you and his heart hurts because you look...sad. and confused. and he hates thinking that you have nowhere safe and warm to sleep tonight in such a vulnerable state.

"yeah. do you wanna come with me?"

you look at him with a raised eyebrow, "to your house?"

"yeah," he says softly, "i just- you have nowhere to go and i wanna... make sure you're safe."

you don’t even know why tears start to sting behind your eyes, swallowing the knot forming in your throat. "if this is because of what we just did, you don't have to-"

"that's not it," he interrupts quickly, "not at all, i swear."

"then why?" you ask defensively, "you're really gonna sneak a girl into your house?"

"i just got a blowjob in front of jesus, i'd say anything is on the table right now."

a real, true, laugh bubbles out of your mouth before you can stop it and he smiles hearing it echo through the church. you smile softly at him and it causes him stomach to do little jumps.

"so is that a yes?" he asks hopefully, standing up and holding out his outstretched hand. you look at it hesitantly, debating with yourself back and forth because his softness is already breaking your hard exterior down.

your eyes meet his and a warm smile crosses his face, dimples poking out and you let out a defeated sigh, "fine."

he interlaces your fingers with yours, both your shoes clacking against the floor before the sound of the door shutting echoes throughout the church.

#san #san smut #ateez #ateez smut #moodboard #san moodboard