#i can’t say i don’t get the urge to do something when shit gets rough

[pink-sparkly-witch]

Tequila

Summary: Tequila has a lot to answer for when Y/N wakes up naked in Dean’s bed, but once the shock wears off, she realises that maybe it’s not such a bad thing.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Rating: Teen

Warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions of smut, angst, fluff, feelings, friends to lovers

Word Count: 1k

A/N: Another December Drabble for you all to enjoy!

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The sun streams through the motel’s threadbare curtains, rudely awakening you from a deep, drunken sleep. Your head is pounding, and there’s a ringing in your ears that comes with the vague memory of the loud music playing at the bar last night.

It’d been a hard hunt to stomach: Lamia, a child-eating demon, had decided to take up residence in Grangeville, Idaho, and once you’d blasted her ass back to hell, you and Dean really, really needed to let off a lot of steam.

Luckily, there was a dive bar next door to the motel, so neither of you had to stay sober enough to drive home, and you’d both been well and truly shit-faced. You’d hustled a small fortune playing pool; he’d sung karaoke, and there were tequila shots… lots and lots of tequila shots.

A snore from behind you made you freeze. It sounded like Dean, but that couldn’t be right. Why would you and Dean be in the same bed? Whoever it was rolled over and slid their arm over your waist, pulling you into their body. You could feel something hard poke the back of your thigh… at least he’s packing, you thought before the mystery man spoke.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Suddenly, the whole night’s events come flooding back to you at once.

One tequila shot turned into two. Two turned to four. Four turned to six, and before you knew it, you were stumbling through the door to Dean’s room, lips attached to his, nails raking through his hair and over his scalp and neck, tongues dancing a passionate tango while your clothes flew in every direction.

Dean made love to you so deliciously good. He was sweet and gentle at times. Rough and hard when you needed it. In all the years you’d known him, this was the first time you’d ended up in his bed, yet he knew your body better than you did. 

The green-eyed hunter had known how to pleasure you better than anyone had before him. Touching places no one had ever touched before. Taking you higher than you’d ever been, making you scream his name so loud the occupant next door had banged the wall.

It’s overwhelming, and you can feel last night’s alcohol swirl dangerously in your stomach, threatening to make an appearance. You lifted the covers and glanced down. Yep, definitely naked.

Pulling the sheet tighter to your body, you cautiously turn around, your worst fear confirmed as Dean’s twinkling green orbs and cocky smirk greet you.

“Well, this changes things!” he grins, and you can’t decide if you want to punch his painfully beautiful face or kiss him.

“Oh, God!” you gasp, covering your face with your hands. “This can’t be happening.”

“Y/N?” Dean asks, concern evident in his voice. “You okay?”

“I can’t believe I did you—I mean that. I can’t believe I did that,” you mumble.

“Come on, don’t be like that! We had a great time. I got you off six times, sweetheart! That’s a personal record for me!”

Dean’s words are meant to be comforting, but they do the opposite and only embarrass you more. The urge to kiss him is gone, leaving you wanting to punch his painfully beautiful, smug face.

“Seriously, Y/N, are you okay? Did I hurt you in any way? Did you not want that to happen? Because I gotta say, you were all over me at the bar, and I get that we had a lot of tequila and were drunk, but I thought you wanted me, too?”

Now that Dean had put his cocky persona aside and the real Dean was in the room, you’d changed your mind again and wanted to kiss him.

“No, Dean. I wanted it to happen. I have for an embarrassingly long time. What I don’t want is to be just another notch on your bedpost. It’s why I’ve never given in to your very persuasive charms over the years. Because I want to be more than just one night to you. And I know that’s not what you want—”

“Woah, Y/N, slow down!” Dean shot up on the bed and turned you to face him. “Did you not hear me when I said this changes things? Do you honestly think I’d risk what we have for one night? I’ve wanted you since the day we met, and last night was the first time since we met that you’ve shown any interest in me. And sweetheart, I haven’t been shy in pulling out my best moves for you.” His words and body language are so expressive and genuine, and you know he’s not feeding you a line. He likes you and he’s wanted you for a long time. All of his flirting and come-ons were real.

“And I thought ‘this is it. I finally get to call her my girl’. Maybe I shouldn’t have followed through with it when we were drunk, but I don’t regret taking my chance with you. Please tell me you don’t regret what happened.” Dean cups your cheeks to keep your gaze on his. The pain crossing his features breaks your heart. You want to tell him you feel the same way, but it’s risky.

“Honestly, I don’t remember much from last night, just bits and pieces, but I know enough to know that if that happened, I wanted it to happen,” you say, trying to ignore the look of Dean’s disappointment at your lack of memory from the night before.

“Do you really want me?” you ask, terrified this was a tequila-induced dream.

“Since the day I met you. And if you’re interested, I’d like to see where we’d go. Together. As a couple.” For once, Dean looks incredibly shy and vulnerable, making your heart swell.

“I’d like that too, De,” you smile, giggling when he grins boyishly.

“Yeah?” he checks, and you nod.

“Yeah,” you confirm.

“Then, I think you should lay back and let me refresh your memory of last night,” Dean grins as he gently pushes you back down on the mattress and pulls your legs apart.

Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @winchestergirl1720

#tequila #december drabbles #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester

[jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd]

playing excited & exhausted with them

ft: levi, erwin, bertholdt, jean, connie, annie, sasha, mikasa, eren

a/n: excited & exhausted is card game made for couples to play when they’re drinking. it is an explicit card game so this post is 18+. NSFW MDNI ! however, this does not go into details. it’s very light on the smut side, if you can even call it that. i’m not 100% comfortable writing full smut yet soo :) this request is for/from @ricebowl768 - also, this is not proofread :)

levi ackerman

it’s a pain to play this game with levi. he insists on doing all of the tasks on the card, resulting in you being the only drunk one. he says, “what’s the point of playing if i don’t do any of these?”

you tell him, it’s supposed to be fun and he doesn’t have to do any of the dares that he doesn’t want to. charmingly, he responds, “well, you’re my girlfriend. i want to do these things.”

erwin smith

he’s curious when you present him the deck. he didn’t think you’d be interested in something so explicit. honestly, he’s quiet shy about most of the cards. he gets a nice buzz going pretty fast, giving him the courage to do all these things.

the night ends up quite wholesome as you two share bursts of drunken giggles. you two wind up sweetly entangled in bed.

bertholdt hoover

you have to convince bert to play this game, given he’s on the shyer side. you both take two shots before playing just to ease any anxiety. the first card he draws reads, “drink if you want to have sex after this game.” his eyes widen and he downs another shot. he tries to hard the cards from you but you are dying to know, so you lunge across towards him and wrestle him for the card.

you laugh at his embarrassment when you read it outloud. you reassure him he doesn’t have anything to feel embarassed about by kissing him all over his red cheeks.

jean kirstein

jean thinks you’re the best girlfriend ever for buying this card game. he mainly teases you about drinking whenever you don’t want to do the action on the card. he calls you a few names just to rile you up. tired of his shit, you start doing everything on the cards just to prove a point. no matter how provocative or exposing they are, you do them. he both hates and loves you for this but he can’t wait for the game to be over.

connie springer

he’s enthusiastic about playing this game, he actually was the one who had picked it up at the store while you weren’t paying attention. he reveals it by slamming it down on the table and insists you two play. you both end up sloppy drunk for some reason despite doing everything on the card. honestly, it was just a good excuse to get sloppy drunk and be horny for each other.

annie leonhardt

she’s sort of…rough when you bring up the idea. annie’s a pretty shy, reserved person so when you present her with the game, she gives you a shrug. no wanting to press her boundaries, you forget about it.

she brings it up later on, on a random afternoon. she wants to deepen her bond with you, so she steps outside her comfort zone. she blushed at nearly every single card, choosing to consume a bunch of liquor.

she manages to hold herself together well, until she gives into her desires and chooses to do the sexual tasks on the cards. this side of her is refreshing. you keep telling her she doesn’t have to do anything, but she insists the liquor has given her courage to do these things she’s wanted to do all along.

sasha braus

sasha giggles at every single card! she barely takes anything seriously, especially when she’s drinking. she doesn’t quite understand the circumstances of the game until you draw all the promiscuous cards. she tries to keep a cool about tasks such as kissing her thighs. but since you know her so well, her gasps of surprise are considered more gasps of arousal. overall, she winds up enjoying the game.

mikasa ackerman

mikasa looks to please you, and only you as their partner. of course, this urge doesn’t dismiss her shyness. she starts off the game with a high confidence, dismissing with each card. she wants to do each, to please you but ultimately, she’s too embarassed. it winds up with her having a bunch of shots and it makes you laugh. you tell her, “baby, you don’t have to do anything, we can stop playing this game.”

she counters back, “i want to! it’s just so…vulgar? how do people do this sober?!”

it’s not that she’s a prude, but this game is impossible to play! that’s what she insists.

eren jaeger

this game was made for eren, or so he thinks. he‘ d play this game with anyone but for him, it’s a pleasure to play with you. he doesn’t shy away from any task, no matter how filthy it is. he enjoys teasing you and seeing you flustered. he wants you uncomfortable, in a consensual way of course. eren wants to take you further than you’ve ever been. both physically and mentally. he’s a menace, testing your limits until you’re begging for him!

#attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #aot headcanons #aot smut #aot fanfiction #attack on titan headcanons #snk headcanons #aot fluff #aot x reader #aot fanfic #mikasa ackerman #eren jaeger #sasha braus #annie leonhardt #jean kirstein #connie springer #jean x reader #connie x reader #eren x reader #mikasa x reader #sasha x reader #attack on titan fluff #attack on titan imagines #attack on titan smut #eren jaeger smut #jean kirstein smut #mikasa ackerman smut #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman smut

[ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey]

Conclusions

Ginny's run out of her good parchment and has been reduced to using something she dug out of the bottom of her trunk, hating the way her quill scratches over the rough surface. As though it isn’t punishment enough to be writing about History of Magic, she’s got to do it on this piece of rubbish. 

“Bloody, buggering fu–” she swears as the point of her quill pierces a hole straight through her conclusion. Apt, probably - it had been flimsy at best. There’s a metaphor here, somewhere.

“Revision going well, then?”

The wry voice startles her so much that she nearly upends her bottle of ink all over her weak – in more ways than one – essay. “Fuck, Harry, I’d no idea you were there.”

She blinks up at him in surprise and finds him smirking, standing at the table she’s claimed in a corner of the library, looking adorably entertained by her plight. His bookbag is slung carelessly over his shoulder, his hair mussed, his stupid face made more handsome by the teasing lilt of his smile. Her heart flutters a bit, because that’s just what it always does with him. She ignores it valiantly, and hates him for it, a little. 

“Sorry,” he says, though he sounds more amused than anything. “Mind if I sit?”

“Course,” she says, gesturing to the seat opposite. “Can’t guarantee there won’t be more swearing, though.” 

He eyes her holey essay as he sits, jerking his head questioningly toward the parchment. “What’re you working on?”

“Something for Binns.”

“Ah, I’d be swearing, too.”

“Fucking hell, eh?”

They share a smile, and Ginny reckons she’d be better off writing an essay about that - the way she knows exactly when he’ll find something funny; the way jokes fall a bit flat when the punchline isn’t his eyes seeking her out, green and piercing and flickering with amusement. She’d fill the parchment with ease. 

It’s easy to write about something you can’t stop reading into. 

Just like she’s madly reading into the way he’s shown up here - no Ron, no Hermione - and sought her out, like it’s normal, like they’ve been doing this for years even though they haven’t. It feels like they have, though. That’s the worst part of it.

“What’re you doing here?” she asks, like he might just come right out and say it - to see you.

He doesn’t. She pretends that she can’t be disappointed by what she expects. 

“Transfiguration,” he says darkly. 

“Where’re Ron and Hermione, then?” she prods, picking at it like a scab, like a masochist. I wanted to get you alone, she urges him to say. I’ve been trying to all week and I haven’t even been subtle about it.

“Dunno,” he shrugs. Scabs bleed when you pick them, incidentally. “I can survive an evening without them, you know.”

“Can you? I don’t reckon your track record is all that spectacular on that front, if I’m honest.”

“Hey, I haven’t died even once.”

“Right,” she jokes. “Angling for a new nickname? ‘The Boy Who Hasn’t Died, Even Once’?”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Rolls right off the tongue, that.”

“I’ll owl Rita for you. We can workshop something”

They smile.

She wants to shake him until he admits to it, confesses, like this thing brewing between them is a crime. She wants to lay all the evidence out in front of him, the aspiring Auror, and see what he makes of it. He can’t quip his way around the smiles and the banter and the looks he gives her. See, she’ll say, don’t you see?

He’s got shit vision. 

They sit together for far longer than she’d planned to stay. At some point he adjusts in his seat, and his foot winds up touching hers, and he doesn’t even have the decency to move it. She fancies she can feel his warmth through their trainers, but no - it must be her own traitorous heart, frantically pumping warm blood to her foot like it’s the only part of her body that needs it, like the parts of her that aren’t touching him have ceased to matter because maybe they have. 

Maybe she’s been distilled to the edge of her foot.

They talk about strategies for the Quidditch final, and OWLs, and argue playfully about which of her mum’s mince pies is the best. Ginny’s always fancied herself good at impressions, but she surprises even herself with her impression of easy nonchalance. All the while it’s building - each look, each smile, each easy joke they set each other up for feels like a firework she’s adding to the heap in her chest, ready to explode with the slightest spark. 

You’ve got me alone, she tells him. Do something about it.

It’s nearly curfew. They start gathering their things, and still he hasn’t done anything. If he were any other boy, Ginny would cut through the bullshit herself, but something holds her back. She can’t fully articulate, unravel, why, but she needs him to be the one to admit it. She needs him to decide she’s worth the risk. He’s meant to be brave, isn’t he?

As she’s packing it away, Ginny remembers her abandoned essay, still punctured pathetically. She sighs, holds it up for Harry’s evaluation. “Think Binns’ll even notice?”

“Give it here,” he says, and she hands it over. He pulls his wand from his robes and waves it wordlessly, the gaping tear sewing itself together so it might never have been there. Ginny doesn’t know why she hadn’t thought to do that herself. 

“Thanks. Only now, I’ve actually got to write a damn conclusion.”

He laughs and holds it back out to her. “You’re on your own.”

“Aren’t you meant to have a hero complex?” she quips, pushing the parchment back toward him. “Some useful saving-people thing? Have a go.”

To her immense surprise, he shoots her a wry smirk that sends a tingle through her stomach. “Alright.” He pulls out the quill he’d only just packed away, scrawls something at the bottom of her parchment, shielding it from view.  

She’s gone utterly daft. Her heart is hammering in her chest, beating a tattoo on her ribcage; she wonders if her fingers are trembling as they reach across to take her essay back, fully convinced she’ll find the words Go out with me scribbled there. 

In conclusion, he’d written, this essay is over.

She snorts, mostly at herself. She’s officially deluded. Cracked. What is wrong with her?

“Wow. Thanks for that,” she says drily. “How would Binns have known otherwise?”

He grins. “Anytime.”

“Totally unrelated, but do you offer refunds? Perhaps a voucher for another Harry Potter rescue at a later date?”

“Non-refundable. Sorry.”

“I’m going to be honest,” she lies. “I expected a better rescue than that.”

He shrugs. “You expect too much from The Boy Who Hasn’t Died, Even Once.”

She can’t help herself; she laughs. His eyes seek hers out - green, so green, twinkling with amusement and something that looks so fond. She’s going to set fire to the heap of fireworks in her chest, just to get it over with. She’ll explode in color, driven to madness by the boy who hadn’t died even once but who’d killed her, slowly, with smiles. 

In conclusion, she thinks, I’m utterly fucked.

#hinny #canon compliant #hbp missing moment #it's still valentine's day somewhere #not here #but somewhere

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

In A Rut (Monster!Hawks x Black!Fem!Reader 18+ One Shot)

Pairing: Keigo “Hawks” Takami x Black!Fem!Reader (Coworkers to Lovers)

Synopsis: You haven't seen your boss around the office in a while ever since he started feeling "under the weather", but when you decide to visit him one day to cheer him up with some soup, you realize that this isn't a normal spring cold. Your boss is in heat and you, his good little assistant, are the only one who can help him cure it.

Warnings: Monsterfucking; Monsterfucker!Reader; Mild Power Play; Boss x Assistant; Mild BDSM; MDom/fsub; Marking; Heat Symptoms; Hawks Has a Big ol’ Dick; Deepthroat; Cunnilingus; Sloppy, Rough Sex; Scent Play; Overstimulation; Ownership; Multiple Orgasms; Multiple Creampies; Multiple Positions; Cum Play; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Happy spring, y'all!! 💐💐🌼🌼🌻🌻 Fucking FINALLY winter & the cold is gone! Now that the weather is heating up, I wanted to write something about my favorite birdman suffering from heat. Enjoy! -Jazz

********

You’re worried about Mr. Takami. 

Or “Hawks” as he’s told several of his employees, staff, and interns to call him around his agency time and time again. But as his personal assistant for over a year, you take respect and professionalism very seriously. 

Hawks is one of the most laidback bosses you’ve had in your professional career. He doesn’t make you fetch coffee unless you’re getting some for yourself, he’s flexible with deadlines, he lets you go home early despite the workload, and has all of his employees take off on Fridays…which he also pays for. 

Though it’s a nice change, you also can’t help but be wary of Hawks. It isn’t that he’s a bad guy. He is considerably nice––always greeting you in the mornings; checking up on you in the afternoons; letting you use his office when he isn’t in it, etc.

But he is also extremely cocky. It comes with the territory of being pro hero #2, you suppose, but the way he saunters into the office every Monday through Thursday in his designer clothes and Rolex watch always rubs you the wrong way. 

Not to mention he’s a humongous flirt. Your friend calls it being “overly friendly”. She also says he doesn’t flirt with any other woman at his agency like he does you. He always gives you those charming smiles that seem to irk you to no end and puts that flirty lilt in his voice when he speaks to you. Not to mention the constant compliments on your outfits and work that stick with you until the end of your shifts. 

Last week on Monday, the last day you saw him, was no different. You were sitting with your friend at your desk that morning, sipping on your iced coffee before the 9 AM meeting. Your friend was giving you the latest gossip on two employees hooking up in the stairwell during lunch last week when you both saw Hawks sauntering into the office. 

“Shh, shh!” she hushes you even though you didn’t say anything. She straightened up and smiled at your boss, bowing. “Good morning, Mr. Takami,” she chirps. The blonde, in his navy blue suit and red bottoms, gave you each a smile that lingered on you for too long. “Ladies,” he greets. 

You looked away, busying yourself by checking your email. “I’ve got your schedule and plans for today’s meeting for you,” your friend said, passing him a folder. “And your coffee, made by yours truly.” She nudged you, making you narrow your eyes at her. 

“Ah, thank you!” Hawks happily sighed. “And I told you before: just call me Hawks. I don’t need all of that ‘Mr’ shit.” His golden eyes then trailed down to you, his stare making you feel uncomfortable in your long-sleeve blouse. “Thank you, Ms. L/N,” he purrs. “See you at the meeting?” 

He gave you a wink, a hint at his joking manner, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. He was always picking on you like this. “I’m required to be there as your assistant so, yes,” you replied, blandly so.

He didn’t think anything of it. “Good,” he hummed happily. “I’ll need my right hand when I get tired of talking or my coffee doesn’t kick in fast enough. Carry on.” 

He gave you a flitting wink before walking off to his office for some time alone. Once gone, your friend fanned herself. “Oh, my God, he’s so fucking fine!” she groaned. You shushed her, hitting her arm. “Come on, his office is right there!” you hissed. “He might hear you!” 

“But isn’t he so fine?” your friend went on, ignoring your warning. “You have to admit that he’s fine!” You chose your words carefully, stirring your straw around in your coffee. “He’s…okay,” you weakly replied. “But he’s our boss! Whatever I think of him doesn’t matter.” At least you told yourself that. 

The meeting was about new anti-discrimination policies in workplaces and merging with UA High and Indeed to create a special job website for aspiring pro heroes and those with quirks. 

You sat across from Hawks and Rumi, his friend and co-owner of the agency, who sipped on her coffee free of cream and sugar. “Took you long enough,” she grumbled to Hawks. “What, you forget to fluff your feathers this mornin’ or somethin’?” 

You giggled to yourself at her joke before the meeting started. You met with Principal Nezu who happily bowed in front of the laptop personally set up to meet his eye level. “Good morning, everyone!” he exclaimed. “I appreciate all of you for your time today, including the Indeed associates, and for Hawks for allowing me to take you away from work for a moment. Now, Hawks, if you would like to share your opinion first?” 

The pro sat back in his chair, legs crossed and glasses perched on his eyes. You secretly liked it when he wore glasses. “I think it’s a perfect idea,” he said with a shrug. “As I’m sure all of you know, my agency is open to all new talent, whether they graduated from UA or not. We don’t discriminate against anyone with a particular quirk or education. As long as they are willing to learn, respect our rules, and participate in training, we will hire them.” 

“But what if the public has concerns about who we hire and whether they will be able to effectively do their jobs with no UA education or license?” one of the Indeed associates asked. Hawks smiled. “I’m glad you asked that.” He nodded at you, smiling warmly. “Y/N, would you mind answering this question? After all, it’s your wonderful brain that came out with such a well-thought-out plan for this.” 

Though you flushed at the compliment, you pushed those butterflies away and stood. “This agency is not new to the scrutiny of the public,” you explain, poised and calm. “Hawks and Nezu-san are proposing the opening of a new pro hero license program for those who cannot afford UA or are over the age of 18. This program would include…” You continued just as you rehearsed, not looking at Hawks who looked dead at you, almost as if he was staring through your clothes. 

When you finally finished, you sat and Nezu thanked you for your well-spoken words. “What is your opinion on that, Hawks?” he asked. The pro didn’t answer, too busy staring at you. Now his eyes were hooded and looked slightly sharper than they were before. You squirmed uncomfortably in your seat, mostly because of how warm his stare made you. 

“Hawks!” Rumi hisses in his ear. The blonde blinked, snapping out of it. “Huh?” he dumbly asked, looking up at the screen. “Are you alright?” Nezu worriedly asked. Everyone was staring at him, including you. He had never acted like this before. “Yeah, just…” He paused, clearing his throat as a flush appeared on his cheeks. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?” 

Nezu repeated himself, asking for Hawks’ opinion on the internship program and when he’d prefer to announce it. “It is the spring already, but I believe the summer is when most of my student body will be looking to do internships,” he explained. 

You watched as Hawks’ eyes grew wide at the mention of spring, but he did his best to keep it lowkey. But you noticed. “U-Uh, yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ll do it in April.” You also noticed his body language for the rest of the meeting: his knee bouncing anxiously; his eyes flicking from yours to back at the screen or down at his papers; his cheeks flushed red. 

Was he sick? Was it the coffee you made? After the meeting, Rumi confronted him on it, grabbing his elbow. “Hey, what the hell happened in there?” she asked. “You looked like you were about to deck Y/N!” 

“I…sorry,” he huffed. “I just…” He paused, seeing you and his eyes roamed over your lower body in your pencil skirt. “I need to go to the bathroom,” he quickly replied before rushing off to his office. You followed him. You don’t know why you did. Maybe you felt obligated to do so as if his assistant. Maybe you just needed to make sure he was okay. 

So you knocked on his door, tentatively so. “Come in,” he raggedly said. You opened the door and automatically closed it behind you. Hawks leaned against his desk, his back to you, breathing concerningly hard like he just got off the treadmill. 

“Mr. Takami?” you questioned. Your heels clicked against the hardwood floor as you walked farther into his spacious, high-rise office. “Hawks, is everything alright?” Hawks didn’t look at you as he spoke: “Y-Yeah,” he replied, still sounding winded. “What’s up?” 

You stood two feet away from him, afraid to get near. You didn’t want to spook him or cross any boundaries. “I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be writing a ‘thank you’ email on your behalf to Nezu-san and the Indeed associates,” you lied though you were planning on doing that anyway.

But Hawks shook his head. “Don’t bother. You did a good job today, Y/N.” His voice sounded so off. It was usually light and syrupy, but now it sounded deep and raspy. It did things to you. 

“Did I do something wrong?” you blurted, confused at his strange behavior. The blonde quickly shook his head, turning slightly towards you. His sleeves were rolled up, showing off his forearms and the feather tattoo on the inside of his left wrist. “No, no, of course not!” he protested. “I’m just…not feeling well.” 

“Well, you know you can always go home,” you said. “We can hold down the fort here like we always do.” Finally, Hawks turned around and you saw how flushed he looked, his cheeks a rouge hue. He gave a smile that felt too intimate. Too adoring. “Thank you,” he sighed. “That’s so like you. Always so professional. Always so sweet.” 

He took a step toward you and instinctively, you took a step back. “M-Mr. Takami?” you weakly asked. He continued to walk to you until you finally stood with your back to the wall, unable to escape him. His cologne clouded your senses, the scent of sweet and spicy invading your nostrils as he stopped in front of you. 

“Y/N,” he began, his voice breathlessly and soft. “I…” He stopped, raising his hand to touch you. And then he stopped, dropping his hand and using it to cover his mouth instead. “I-I’m sorry,” he muffingly said. “You should go. I don’t wanna get you sick.” 

Quickly, he reached beside you with his free hand and opened the door. The sound of chatter, coffee machines, and ringing phones smacked you back to reality. “You should go,” he said, his eyes willing you to do so. So you did and he shut the door in your face, leaving you feeling breathlessly and hot. 

That was over a week ago. After the work day, Hawks headed home and sent out a staff meeting the next morning about being out because of a “spring cold”, but he’d be back soon. “Soon” hasn’t come yet. You haven’t heard anything from him in days! 

It’s starting to worry you. A spring cold can’t last this long. Is it the flu? Is it something else? Plus, no one can seem to get in contact with him. What if something bad happened to him? 

These worrying thoughts swim in your head all week every time you see Hawks’ empty office. 

Finally, you reach your breaking point. You’re not going to call, text, or email him. You’re going to be a good assistant and instead, bring him something to let him know that you’re checking on him. Something to make him feel better. So on Friday, you leave work after your shift and stop by your favorite cafe to buy a bowl of their best chicken noodle soup.

You then drive to Hawks’ penthouse on the Upper East side of the city having kept his address to deliver things from work to his house if need be. When you park your car, you walk to the front door and click a button to buzz to his room. At first, nothing happens, so you press it again. Finally, on the third buzz, someone answers. 

“Yeah?” a deep, raspy, growly voice barks. It startles you. “Uh…I’m sorry, do I have the wrong room?” you ask. “I’m looking for Keigo Takami.” The other end of the line pauses and you think that they left. “Y/N?” they ask, sounding shocked. “Why are you here?” 

You blink at the speaker, shocked that this is your boss talking to you. Why does he sound like that? Is he that hoarse? “I came to give you some soup,” you say, suddenly shy. “I haven’t heard from you in days, so I bought this just to let up your spirits. That must be some cold.” 

You wait for a response, but when he never gives it to you, you begin to feel stupid. This was a mistake. “Well, I’m gonna go now, but I’ll give it to your doorman so he can–” 

“Don’t,” Hawks interrupts though he still sounds strained. “Come up.” You scowl in confusion, wondering if you misheard that, but then his doorman is meeting you at the front door to guide you to the elevator up to Hawks’ penthouse with the soup. 

You take the elevator up, your heart pounding and your hands shaking slightly as they hold the soup. You almost explode from your nerves when you finally make it upstairs and the doors open, revealing Hawks’ beautiful, luxurious, and empty penthouse with an included gameroom, private gym, balcony, pool, mini bar, and expensive-looking kitchen. But he is nowhere to be found. 

You walk further into the living room, your heels clicking across the hardwood floor. “Hawks?” you call. You don’t get any answer right away. The home is uncomfortably silent, making you feel paranoid. “Hawks!” you call again, louder this time. “Where are you?” 

“Upstairs!” he rasps from the staircase leading to the upper floor. “Don’t come up here!” He sounds so pained. In such agony. You place the soup on the counter, confused and worried. What’s going on? Why does he sound like he’s in trouble? 

Not listening at all to your boss’ warning, you slowly head up the steps, taking each tentative step further up in your heels. The hallway is dark when you finally make it upstairs, the only door open being the one at the end of the hallway. It is cracked and through it, you hear the sound of your boss’ soft pants and grunts of pain. Hawks’ bedroom. 

Though something inside of you is telling you to turn around, you persevere and walk towards the bedroom. Slowly, you push the door open, revealing a dark masterbedroom with drawn curtains blocking out the outside world. “Hawks?” you tentatively question. “It’s just me. I just came to–” 

“Go away!” he bellows from inside. “I told you not to come up here!” You jump, startled by the volume of his voice. He’s never yelled at you in such a way. You poke your head inside and gasp at the absolute mess of his bedroom: furniture askew; clothes and empty water bottles discarded on the floor; a rumbled mess of red sheets on the bed.

The smell in the air is thick with sweat and something else. Something tropical. Coconut oil? You look towards the king-sized bed where a heap sits hunched under the sheets which move up and down as it pants heavily. You thought it was just a pile of clothes at first, but no. There’s something under there. 

“Hawks?” you question, your voice wavering in fear. The strange heap stirs, reacting to your voice. It breathes raggedly, almost as if it can’t get enough air in its lungs. “Hawks, what’s going on?” you demand. “Tell me. I want to help you.” 

But he turns away, the sheets shifting as he does. “You can’t,” he whines. “You can’t.” Not being able to take how he sounds anymore, you storm over to the bed and snatch the sheets off of him. There, under the covers, you see your boss with your own two eyes. “H-Hawks?” you whisper. “Is that you?” 

You almost can’t believe it. He has gotten much bigger in the past couple of days since you’ve last seen him, his muscles almost bulging. His pecs are ridiculously big, his nipples hard and perky, and veins protrude from his forearms and hands. Speaking of hands, they barely resemble human hands anymore. Red feathers sprout from his skin and long, sharp talons have grown out of his fingernails like knives. 

When he looks at you, his face is flushed and his eyes are nothing more than red slits, those warm, golden irises gone. But all of those things aren’t even the most shocking to you. You are more shocked by the size of his wings. They have doubled in size, nearly taking up the entirety of the bed, and are red as the purest blood. His feathers shake and ruffle as if someone has run their fingers through them, disturbing their peace. 

He looks shocked to see you and then embarrassed. “I didn’t want you comin’ up here,” he pants. “Didn’t want you seein’ me like…this.” He shifts and sits up so the sheet falls off of him, revealing his naked body to you. He is flushed and coated in sweat all over his tan skin and toned muscles. Your eyes trail down his abs and V-line to his cock which is way too obvious to look away from. 

He is big and throbbing, the head a blush red and dripping in precum. One mouth-watering, angry vein trails from his shaft up to the head of his cock that twitches. Hawks winces, not looking like he is enjoying this at all. In fact, he looks like he’s in complete agony. You can’t be embarrassed or mortified by this when he looks so awful. “W-What happened to you?” you softly gasp. 

He covers his throbbing dick with the sheet, but it’s no use. You can still see it protruding from underneath it, creating an obvious tent. “I’m in heat,” he sighs. “It’s what us mammals go through around this time. A spring thing.”

He wipes the sweat off of his forehead, his blonde hair soaked in it. “That’s why I’ve been hiding,” he explains. “I’ve been here tryna get through this, but I just…can’t!” 

He grabs at his hair, running his hands through it. Now you understand it: his absence; the transformation; the smell of coconut oil in the air. You feel yourself blush, feeling hot in your clothes. All of this because he’s horny?

“How long does it last?” you curiously ask, but you’re not even sure you want to know. Hawks sighs, looking doomed. “Either a day or months depending on if my heat is satisfied.” 

“Months?” you gasp. “Are you in pain?” 

Hawks’ face screws up, triggering something in your core. “Terrible, baby,” he groans, wrapping a hand around his cock, his talons long enough to curl around the entire thing...and he’s at least 12 inches. “I can’t even sleep. I’ve been up for days, sweatin’ through my sheets and tryin’ to cum as many times as I can.” He releases himself and looks down at his hands, clenching them. “But my hands don’t do it for me anymore and I broke my fuckin’ toy.” 

He nods at the fleshlight you didn’t even notice lying near his nightstand, completely broken in half. He completely tore that pussy out the frame, you realize in shock. What the fuck could he do to a real one? “O-Oh,” you exhale. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, running his hand down his sweaty face. “I’m sorry about this, Y/N, really. I didn’t want anyone seein’ me like this.” He looks away from you, appearing so utterly humiliated and ashamed that it pains you. You find yourself not liking him like this: so utterly downtrodden and hopeless. “What can I do?” you blurt. 

He faces you, his slitted eyes widening. “What?” he gasps. “What do you–” 

“I wanna help you, Hawks,” you cut in, already taking off your cardigan to reveal your pretty, pink blouse underneath that you paired with a skirt. “What can I do to help you get through this?” 

He watches you, looking completely stunned and mortified, but his cock also twitches at the sight of your outfit. “No, no, baby, no,” he protests. “Y-You can’t…you don’t need to do this.” But you stand firm on your decision, refusing to leave him like this. “I know I don’t need to,” you firmly respond. “I want to. Just look at you! I can’t let you go on like this.” 

Hawks still doesn’t move, but his cock begins to leak pre for you, dripping down his thick thighs and onto the mattress. The sight is so lewd but so arousing, making your pussy throb indeciently in your panties. You shouldn’t be doing this. There are so many consequences you could face from this…but you also find that you don’t care right now. “Let me help you, Hawks,” you whisper. “Just tell me what I need to do to help you. I’m your assistant, after all.” 

A fire explodes behind Hawks’ eyes, lit with lust and need. A low growl leaves his chest and you find that he has fangs in his mouth. The sight scares and thrills you. “You wanna help me?” he asks in his low, deep voice. “Then take off your clothes.” 

You swallow hard, feeling like you just dry-swallowed a gigantic pill. You start with your blouse, your painted fingernails teasing the buttons before you begin to pop them open one by one. You expose your lacy bra to him, one of your favorites because of how it makes your breasts look: pretty, juicy, and appetizing with the lace trim of the cups adorning them. 

You peel off the blouse and let it fall to your feet. Hawks barely notices it, too busy staring dead at your chest. He slowly begins to pump his cock with his hand, lewd, wet sounds of his pre and coconut oil acting as lubricants drifting to your ears. Under his laser-eyed gaze, you feel like an animal being watched behind a cage. A specimen. It makes you feel slightly uncomfortable, but also hot and bothered to see that you’re affecting him so deeply. 

You then move to your skirt and begin to unzip it, but Hawks puts a hand out to stop you. “Slowly, mama,” he raggedly says. “Don’t rush this.” Biting your lip, you slowly drag the zipper down and then slide the skirt off of your waist, leaving you in just your matching bra and panties. You go to take off your stockings and heels, but he stops you. “Leave ‘em on,” he demands. 

So you stand there, arms at your sides and trembling like a leaf. “Turn around,” he orders, his pink lips parted as he continues to fuck his hand nice and slow. You listen and turn, exposing your ass to him. “Ah, shit,” he hisses, soft pants leaving his lips. “I knew you had a nice ass.” 

You bite your lip, feeling your pussy flutter and throb impatiently. “Sit on the bed and bend over for me,” he orders. “I’m not gonna touch you. I just wanna see you rub that pussy for me, okay?” 

You turn around, staring down at your shoes. “Yes, sir,” you whisper and flush at your words. They just came out of you, as naturally as breathing. 

Hawks shudders, affected by your reply. “Such a good girl,” he sighs dreamily. “I’ll definitely take that over just ‘Hawks’ right now. But ‘Keigo’ works too.” Your face grows hot with a blush, having never referred to him by his first name before. Not wanting to waste his time, you slowly get on the bed and face away from him, your feet tucked under your butt. 

Then you bend over for him, your back arched. “Yes, that’s it,” he encourages, softly panting and the move bouncing slightly from his ministrations on himself. “Pull those panties to the side, baby. Let me see you.” Biting your lip so hard that you’re sure to draw blood, you pull the thin strip of cotton covering your sodden, wet, puffy pussy to the side and expose all of you to him. 

Hawks shudderingly moans at the sight of the wet strand of your arousal connected from your pussy lips to your panties. “God, mama,” he groans. “You have the prettiest pussy. Look how wet you are!” He growls once more, sounding so much like an animal. “You like what you’re doin’ to me?” You can tell he’s started to stroke himself harder, faster, his pants and heavy breaths becoming more intense. “Keigo,” you softly whimper. 

You’ve never been this horny before. Your pussy is about to slide off the bone with how wet it is. 

“That’s right, say my name,” he groans. “Play with your pussy, baby. Don’t let me do this alone.” 

So you do. You sneak your hand down your ass, teasing him before you begin to rub your cunt for him in time with his strokes. A weak moan leaves your lips as you rub your clit in tiny, firm circles, your ministrations impassioned by the sounds leaving Hawks’ lips. He sounds so desperate. So slutty as he pumps his cock, imagining that he’s doing so to your pretty, little pussy. “So fuckin’ cute,” he says, agonized at your beauty and sexiness. “How the fuck are you this adorable?” 

You want to look back and see him, but you get the feeling that he doesn’t want to be watched, so you instead close your eyes and drift away at the sounds of his moans and his lubed cock fucking his hand, making the bed bounce slightly underneath you. You imagine that he’s fucking you like that, his big hands gripping your ass and talons digging into the fleshy part of your ass cheeks. You can almost feel his cock stretching you out, pumping you full again and again as he uses you, doing his best to not break you like he did his fleshlight. 

Finally, you can’t take it anymore. “K-Keigo!” you whine. “Fuck, I’m about to cum!” Hawks groans at your warning, happy to hear this. “Uh-huh,” he pants. “Do it for me, baby. Cum all over those fingers for me.” 

And you do. You rub and flick your clit until it can’t take any more stimulation and explodes all over your hand. Your sweet moans of release push Hawks over the edge. “Fuck!” he bellows, his voice bouncing off of the walls as he cums in his hand, shooting warm cum all over his thighs and stomach. Your moans and whines mix with one another, creating a symphony of pleasure as you both cum together. 

When the high of your orgasms finally fades, you both sit there for a moment, panting and sitting in the reality of your situation. “I…I’m sorry,” Hawks awkwardly huffs.

You don’t answer, unsure of what to say until you turn around and find that he’s still hard. “Keigo!” you gasp. “Y-You’re still–” 

“I know,” he sighs, frustration evident in his handsome face. “Like I said, my hands ain’t doin’ it for me at this point. I need more.”

His slitted eyes, red as crimson blood, narrow at you, a deeper meaning in his words. You gulp, weighing your options but only briefly. You realize you’re thinking more with your pussy than with your head, but the curiosity of feeling Hawks’ wings wrapped around you while he fucks you is too tempting. 

“Keigo, it’s okay,” you softly purr, putting a hand on his thigh. He flinches as if your touch burns him. “We can do more if you need it.” You then dip your fingers between your thighs and come back with them dripping in your cum. His cock twitches at the sight, but he doesn’t have to imagine how you taste for too long. 

You lean forward and put your fingers to his lips. “Use me,” you say, a plea in your voice. “I’m all yours.”

Right then, something in Hawks snaps the moment he wraps his lips around your fingers and greedily sucks your cum off of them. He is no longer entirely human, his animal instincts taking over. He snatches you up and places you in his lap, emitting a small gasp from you at being yanked up so forcefully. “Just tell me ‘no’ if you want me to stop,” he orders. “And tap my thigh three times if I got my cock in that mouth. Understand me?” 

Unable to reply, you wordlessly nod. That’s enough for him. Immediately, he’s on you, pressing a rough yet passionate kiss to your lips, nibbling on your bottom lip and swirling his tongue with yours. His kiss is brutal yet hot; forceful yet careful as he wraps you up in his arms and soft wings. It’s the best kiss you’ve had in your life. 

And the sex he gives you by far trumps all of the other bedroom adventures you’ve had. You’re so glad he gave you a non-verbal safety precaution because Hawks takes the “use” thing literally when he finally gets his dick down your throat. He is as big and thick as he looks, your fingers barely being able to wrap around his girty, throbbing shaft. 

You have to cover his cock in copious amounts of spit and coconut oil just to make it easier to stroke him, Hawks’ crimson, lustful eyes and soft moans encouraging you. “That’s it, baby bird,” he growls, one clawed hand in your hair. “Take me nice and easy.” Though he allows you to slowly take his cock down your throat, it doesn’t do much to ease the stretch of your jaw. 

Unfortunately for you, Hawks’ heat gets the best of him and his impatience rises, making your time to adjust to his size shorter. When he grabs your hair and begins to fuck your face, you have no choice but to take it. He shoves his cock so deep down your throat that your eyes burn with tears and embarrassing, wet gagging sounds leave your mouth as you gurgle around his cock that throbs and pulses in your mouth. 

“Thaaat’s my girl,” Hawks grunts, staring down at you throating his dick. “You’re takin’ this dick like a champ, baby bird, y’know. You could make this a profession if workin’ as an assistant don’t work out.” He takes his cock out and taps it against your tongue, loving how slutty you look for him with your tongue hanging out and makeup a mess. 

“Or you could add this to your duties of bein’ my little assistant,” he hums, smearing his cockhead across your plump lips. “You could fetch my coffee and take this dick over my desk every workday. How would that sound?” He doesn’t allow you to answer as he grabs you again and forces you down onto his cock, groaning at how amazing your wet tongue and soft mouth feel. “God!” he groans. “I hope your pussy is this fuckin’ tight.” 

His curiosity gets the best of him. After a few minutes of fucking your throat like it’s a toy, he pulls out with a moan, giving you heart eyes at the image of your messy hair and sloppy mouth dripping in spit. He holds your face in his big hands, his talons gently caressing your cheeks. “On your back,” he orders. You must go too slow for him because he tosses you down onto your backside himself and quickly ducks between your thighs, his big, feathered hands parting them. 

“K-Keigo,” you stammer, but that’s all you can get out before he’s cutting the waistband of your panties off with his teeth and sliding his big, fat, wet tongue all over your slit.

All words cease to exist as pleasure washes over you which only builds the more his tongue swirls against your clit and inside of you. Your eyes widen and your hands dig into the skin of his muscular back that flexes as he dips his head low to eat you out. His soft wings caress your skin as they wrap around you, making you feel like you’re being pampered from all ends. 

Hawks knows how to run his mouth, but also knows how to work it. His tongue moves magically inside of you, slurping up your juices as his nose and soft lips bump against your clit. You grind your hips up into him, meeting his tongue thrusts while his talons dig into the fleshy parts of your ass.

You can’t keep quiet, too enveloped in the ecstasy you’re feeling. “God, yes, Keigo!” you whine, bucking your hips up. “That feels so fuckin’ good! Keep going, please, ooooh, shit!” 

Hawks gladly takes all of those lovely sounds, moaning into your cunt. He is a rapid, ravenous animal, slurping up your pussy like he’s yearning for it. “So good,” he whines into your clit. “So fuckin’ good.” 

Your orgasm comes rather quickly, that knot in your core threatening to snap as he continues to work his tongue in and out of you. “Fuck, Kei!” you sob. “I’m gonna fuckin’ cum! Please let me cum, sir please!” 

“Mmm-hmm,” Keigo hums, sucking gently on your pussy lips. “Do it for me, baby bird. Cum all over my fucking face.” He goes back to eating you out, moving his tongue against that little spot up and inside of you that makes you see stars. “Do it,” he growls in his deep, gravelly voice. “Fuckin’ cum for me. Give it to me now!” 

A scream erupts from you–”Oh, shit!”–as you explode all over Hawks’ tongue. He moans in release with you as he slurps and laps you up, drinking in all that give him while you buck and writhe under his hands. Even when the orgasm high fades, he doesn’t stop. He continues to eat you out even as your pussy and body twitches. “O-Okay, Hawks,” you stammer. “Please, ah, please stop. I-I can’t…oh, my God!” 

Tears prick your eyes as the agonizing pleasure continues, swallowing you whole. His crimson eyes stare up into yours between your thighs, loving how desperate and pathetically horny you look as you writhe against his tongue. But as good as you taste, he needs to know how you feel. So he hikes himself up on top of you, his big body covering your smaller one, and his wings creating a curtain around you. 

“I’m gonna be honest with you, baby,” he pants. “I need to fuck you now and when I do, I ain’t gonna be nice. I need to cum as many times as it takes to ease this heat and that could be hours. You sure you’re okay with that?” Despite his obvious need, he is holding back, his cock throbbing against your thigh. 

Knowing that, you nod and press a kiss to his lips. “Yes, Keigo,” you purr. “I want this too.” You give him a smile, pretty and seductive. “So fuck me.”

The pro doesn’t need to be told twice. He starts by fucking you on your back, your knees tucked up into your chest. You’re happy for the lubricant and orgasm because it is a stretch. His cock stretches your pussy out in a way it didn’t do to your jaw, making your mouth go slack and your eyes widen. “Relax, mama,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your face while he rubs your clit. “You’re doin’ so well takin’ me.” 

After a few minutes of adjusting and slow strokes, Hawks feels you relax around him and finally begins to pound you like he needs to. He fucks you into the mattress that shakes and bounces beneath you, making your tits bounce in time with his thrusts. Each pump of his thick cock sends sparks of pleasure throughout your body as your soft, spongy pussy walls stretch and mold into his shape. 

“O-Oh, my God!” you cry, grasping his shoulders as he takes you straight to poundtown. “Fuck, Keigo, yes, baby! Fuck me just like that!” 

The winged pro grips your thighs and pins them down to the bed, giving you a stretch that yoga couldn’t even do. “Just like that?” he teasingly asks, smirking down at you. “Look at you takin’ this dick like a champ, baby bird. Bet you couldn’t wait for your boss to fuck you, huh?” 

You whine in response, earning a tongue shoved in your mouth as Hawks gives you a wet French kiss while he pounds into you. He nuzzles his nose into your neck next, covering himself in your scent and you in his.

You’re so deep in the pleasure that you don’t even realize that Hawks’ feathers, sharpened to the touch, cut off your bra until you feel the cool air on your nipples and then pleasure as he stimulates them with his feathers. 

When he begins to get closer, his crimson eyes glow red and the black rimming his eyes grows sharper like a hawk’s. You feel scared yet aroused at the same time, your pussy clenching around his cock. “I’m gonna cum, baby,” he grunts. “Gonna fill you up. Want you to fuckin’ cum with me too!” 

“Fuck, Hawks!” you whine, tossing your head back against the pillow. Your second orgasm erupts and sends you on a trip while Keigo fucks you like he’s trying to hit a home run. When he cums, he does so with an animalistic grunt and grips your hips so hard that they bruise. He tosses his blonde hair back, every muscle in his body tense from the pleasure. You gasp as he fills you up with his cum, feeling warmth flooding inside of you. It feels good to be full, you realize. 

But even when the orgasm fades and he has successfully filled you up, Hawks looks down at you with an increased level of need and lust that shakes you. “I ain’t done with you yet,” he growls. 

And he’s not. He fucks you in every single position imaginable. He fucks you doggy style, his cock pumping into you again and again while he yanks on your hair and dirty talks in your ear.

“You my little slut?” he pants, his hand grabbing and smacking your ass. “You love gettin’ fucked by me? You love this number 2 pro hero dick, don’t you, baby?” You can only whine in response, words and logical thoughts completely gone as he turns your pussy into mush. 

He fucks you on your side, his big body spooning yours and red wings wrapped around you as his throbbing cock drives inside of you. In this position, it’s easier to rub your clit and tilt your head back to kiss him, the two of you sharing breath as you hotly pant and moan into each other’s mouths. 

He fucks you with your head hanging off the bed and your leg pinned up to get a better angle at your G-spot and to drive himself deeper into you. 

He fucks you in mating press, his feet on the bed as he mounts you and drives himself inside of you like he’s trying hard to breed you. 

He fucks you in full nelson. 

In prone bone, his hands massaging your ass. 

While standing up, you bouncing like a cute little fuck bunny in his arms on his dick. 

From the bottom while you ride him, both from the front and the back, his hands groping your bouncing tits and jiggling ass. 

“Mine,” he growls to you in every position known to bed that he puts you in. “You’re fuckin’ mine, baby bird. Only mine.” 

And in every single position, he makes you and himself cum. He seems to always know how to trigger your orgasm so you cum again and again. He then uses your tight walls to chase his orgasms, cumming inside of you and filling up over and over again. He makes you sweat out your hair and your makeup, making you look like the sexiest Goddess to him as you take his cock like it’s your job. 

By the time he finally finishes, hours have passed and you are spent. Your body aches. You are wet with sweat and cum. Your pussy twitches and is sloppy with his and your cum mixed together, all of it dripping down your thighs and through the crack of your ass. 

Hawks, finally back to his normal self, lies down next to you and snuggles you into his chest. “Thank you for doin’ that,” he sighs, pecking you on the forehead. “You did so, so well for me, honey. I hope a dinner date can make up for that workout.” 

You only mewl tiredly in response, but you wrap your arms around him and snuggle into his chest. He chuckles, the sound pleasant to your ear pressed against his heart. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he sighs.

And then you sleep, satisfied and comfortable finally. 

THE END. 

#hawks x black reader #hawks x black!reader #hawks smut #keigo aka my husband #keigo takami x black reader #black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #black coded reader #bnha smut #black writers #keigo takami #tw monsterfucking

[danistartt]

Homesick- Jamie Tartt

pairings: jamie tartt x reader, roy kent, ted lasso warnings: none. ithink other than language about: request!! jamie tartt is homesick

Jamie has rarely been hesitant to leave for a game.

But there’s something sick at the pit of his stomach when he has to say goodbye to you today, even when you assure him that it’s for so, so little time that it won’t matter. That he won’t miss you with all the excitement of a match. You set your palms against his cheeks and urge his attention to you, tired determination widening your droopy eyes when you tell him that you’re proud of him, sadness angling your features as you apologize for not being able to be there in person to cheer him on.

He smiles and thinks that he believes you.

There’s a painful tug at his heart when he has to leave for real this time, treasuring the warm line your marriage finger grazes along the lobe of his ear. He kisses you, opening his eyes too soon when he pulls away and catching a glimpse of you at your sweetest: still half-submerged in his affection, face softer than he’s seen it.

You are raw in the morning, still a little rumpled from your bed and an inch away from sleep. You got up early for him today. Let your forehead bounce against the passenger window so you could say your farewells face-to-face. He doesn’t think he’s ever had a person care about him like that. Sacrifice even the little things with great pleasure because it’s him.

“You guys’re gonna do great,” you murmur, arms tight around his neck. You squeeze once more before pulling back, giving him a happy, sleepy smile that he takes with him. “I’ll have a celebration ready when you lot get back.”

“Can’t wait,” he tells you with a cheeky wink, watching the amusement in your eyes wake a little bit more.

“Roy’s giving me the stink eye.”

“That’s just how he looks, babe,” he defends. “‘Nd if he’s lookin’ at anyone, it’s me.”

“No,” you say. “He likes you now, Jamie.” The way you say his name is so lovely. All curved and soft and smooth with love. You stifle a yawn and pull him in again. “I’ll see you soon. Behave, okay? I promise I’ll be watching the game on the telly.”

“I always do,” he defends.

“Roy’ll tell me,” you remind playfully. “I think he might write complaints down when you get a little too cocky.”

“I promise,” he gives in.

“You’re going to do amazing,” you tell him again, fully believing it.

“You know it.” He pecks the skin below your eye, finally walking toward the bus.

Roy grunts at you in greeting once Jamie’s gone inside, arms crossed in front of his chest. Ted yells a hello. Beard nods. You wave, continuing to stand in the parking lot until the bus is gone.

-

Jamie worries he’s ill an hour before the game.

You’re busy with the seminar you couldn’t miss and he doesn’t want to tell anybody, but he doesn’t have to with the team he has.

“Jamie, wanna come on over and have a chat?” Ted asks him, smiling.

Jamie shrugs, feeling like lead weighs him down when he stands.

Ted leads him into a hallway and rocks on his heels expectantly. “Y’wanna tell me what’s wrong, or do you want me to guess?”

Jamie scrubs a rough hand down his face. “I dunno, coach.” Ted furrows his brows. “I’ve never…” He sighs frustratedly. “I dunno what it is.”

“Do you not feel well?”

“I feel off.” Jamie shrugs, frustrated. “Like I forgot to do something. I’m all tingly and shit.”

Ted hums. “You a little homesick? I felt a helluva lot like that the first few months I came here. Still feel it when I get into a car on the wrong side.”

“I’ve never missed it before. What’s there to miss? I’ve a bed at me hotel. I like leavin’ and seein’ all the sights.”

Ted scratches his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe you don’t miss your house, Jamie.”

Jamie shakes his head in confusion. “I’m sorry, coach, what?”

“Home ain’t always a building, Jamie,” Ted explains, squeezing his shoulder before heading back inside the locker room.

Jamie stands, perplexed. “The fuck?”

“He’s fucking sayin’ you miss Y/N,” Roy barks out of nowhere. “You’ve never been at a game away from her. You miss her,” he explains. “It happens.”

“Why didn’t he just say that, then?” Jamie complains.

“Substance. Too obvious,” Roy shrugs. “Call her. Stop being fuckin’ ‘tingly,’ Tartt.”

Jamie is left alone once again, processing.

Ted called him homesick, which Jamie opposes. He couldn’t care less about the place where he lived. Everything in it was chosen by another person years ago, and the space is bland otherwise, with only one framed picture of the both of you hanging up on the living room wall.

Still, he damn well yearned to be back among his stupid, minimalistic furniture and monochromatic aesthetic. Why?

Roy said it was you and Jamie is inclined to agree. When he pictures his living room with his dumb couch, you’re laying on it. Your trinkets and colorful items allay impersonal corners. You’re making a wonderful mess in his kitchen. You’re softening clinical sheet edges. You’re the only warm thing that decorates his walls.

He misses you. He’s homesick for you.

He hates it when Roy is right (but he’s getting used to it), especially when it’s concerning something Jamie didn’t expect, something unfamiliar.

His phone pings, lighting up with your contact picture and a text message asking how he is.

He’s never had a home to miss, he thinks. He’s a little happy to have one. He’s elated it’s you.

#jamie tartt #ted lasso #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #jaime tartt #jamie tartt fluff #jamie tartt reader insert #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt request #jamie tartt fic #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt imagine

[xo-kyeong]

Laughter and mild snickering are all you hear from behind the door.

God, this is embarrassing

“COME ON Y/N!” Mina shouts from the living room of your shared dorm, all 5 of them waiting for you to test if your shared dorm had soundproof walls.

“WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE SEX NOISES?” You ask in humiliation. Fuck they’re gonna have a field day with this. “Y/n! My arms are getting tired from holding the phone! Get on with it already!” Denki whines.

“WHY DON’T YOU GUYS DO IT, WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE ME?” You cry out as you bang your head dramatically onto the door. Am I really doing this?

“Should I like- moan like how a normal person would moan?” You ask sheepishly. Sero and Bakugou are behind Denki trying their hardest to contain their laughter.

Kirishima, Denki, and Mina on the other hand are ruthless. Absolutely dying of laughter.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO!!” You cry out in protest, but they’re all insisting you do it.

“Y/n, how are we supposed to know if one of us can invite someone over?” Sero insists.

Then again, you’ve been dying to get yourself off for a while now because of your hectic schedule. Maybe knowing if your roomies can hear you pleasuring yourself is useful information after all.

“Okay okay- OH MY GOD I CAN’T” you laugh a bit out of embarrassment and they all laugh with you because this is pretty stupid.

“Sero will go in and test with you! That way you won’t be the only one feeling embarrassed!” Mina suggests, and that idea actually made the situation even worse.

There’s nothing more humiliating than to hear your friend’s moans and him hearing yours!

“WHAT? I DIDN’T SIGN UP FOR THIS-“ Sero protests, eyebrows raised and arms up as if he was adamant. But then after a few minutes of teasing from Mina and Denki, he finally caved in and joined you in the room.

“You really don’t have to do this you know?” You tell Sero, I mean, he’s probably uncomfortable-

“I don’t mind, besides, I’ve always liked your voice in bed” you’re full-blown red and flustered.

“We’re roommates Sero! You can’t be saying shit like that” you turn away, hiding your reddened face from his devilishly handsome (and irritating) face.

“Who says we can’t? Why don’t I start first, hmm?” He gives Denki the go signal and starts clapping.

“Sero- omg” you were hysterical, this is just downright stupid.

“Go on, just say ‘oh’ or whatever, better yet, say my name instead” he gives you a wink and you roll your eyes at him, fighting the urge to actually tackle this man and literally make this “fake” scenario into a reality.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this-“ you take a breath and started whimpering as Sero was clapping his hands at a steady pace.

“You’re so tight y/n- fuck” Sero shamelessly moaned, causing everyone outside the room to cackle.

“You’re brave” you whispered.

“But I should be the one making sounds here” you teased. And that riled him up, the way you went from utterly humiliated to bold and daring just did something to him. You effortlessly matched his energy just like that.

“Mhm, oh my god Sero- Oh keep going” you closed your eyes dramatically, trying to make this scenario as realistic as possible.

Sero quickened the pace of his clapping, groaning with you.

“Oh my god Sero, I’m gonna-“ you whimper and moan as you would if you were actually having sex. And Sero isn’t going to lie, he didn’t know if he should be worried because you moan so well that when he DOES have sex with you he might think you’re just faking it for his ego.

Both of you calmed down and stepped out of the room, looking at Mina for their final verdict.

“Well, it’s slightly soundproof- we all just have to make sure that none of you boys go too rough on whoever you bring home. Got it?” Mina says while holding the phone and placing it in front of you and Sero.

You and Sero re-watched the clip, hearing most of Sero’s clapping. Your own moans weren’t that noticeable, other than your “oh’s” and Sero’s groans.

“Well- y/n you sure do know how to act like you’re getting railed- have you ever faked an orgasm before?” Mina curiously asks, and you couldn’t say anything other than a whispered “kind of”

“GIRL- WE WON’T KNOW IF YOU’RE BEING WELL TAKEN CARE OF! WE WOULD BARELY KNOW THE DIFFERENCE” Mina screams, making you turn your head away from her booming voice.

All four boys were equally shocked at your revelation, you’ve faked an orgasm before? their eyes were wide, and jaws dropped.

You sheepishly brush them off though, as if it wasn’t that big of a deal. but to Sero, it clearly is. The others let you off, except for him of course. The rest of them finally went into their own rooms, bidding everyone goodnight, you were about to go to your own room after you refill your water bottle, that is until a pair of hands wrapped around your waist. You knew who it was going to be, his long and slender arms are easily distinguishable. “Sero?” you hum, “why aren’t you going to bed yet, huh?” you close the lid of your water bottle so that you could turn around and face him. “you’ve never faked with me... right?” he looks down at you with pleading eyes, he looks just like a begging puppy.  “oh, Sero. my poor baby, couldn’t get your mind off of that?” you chuckle at him when he holds you closer. “I’m serious y/n! do you actually feel good?” he whines, and that has you laughing lightly at how needy and desperate he sounds. “Sero, I’ve never faked an orgasm with you. in-fact, you’re the one and only guy who ever treated me right” you smile, wrapping your own arms around him to comfort him. Sighing when you savored his warmth and comfort. The fact that none of your other roommates know about your relationship is thrilling, yet sometimes it still manages to boil down to calm and quiet moments like this. “I love you, Sero” you look up at him, your eyes droopy due to the sudden sleepiness.  He reaches down to kiss you on the forehead, “I love you so much, Mi Amor” he rubs your cheek with his thumb before leaning in to kiss you on the lips. It’s nice to have a secret relationship, calm and quaint.  But you’d be surprised to hear that 3 other people are listening in on your conversation, fully containing their excitement at how sweet you and Sero are to each other.

#sero x reader #sero hanta x reader #sero headcanons #sero hanta #my hero academia #bnha #bnha headcannons #bnha smut

[inmyminditsreal]

Hello

Can you do a request where the reader is held captive and Spencer has to save her? You can decide if they are already a couple or not.

Thanks

Hey!! Yes of course!! What i wrote is kinda dark but hope you enjoy!

Fem!reader x spencer reid

Summary: reader gets kidnapped and tortured while Spencer and the team have to save her.

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: Blades/cutting skin, torture.

It was a normal case. Well, not ‘normal’ but as you go along as an agent, you get more suited to the terror. The case you’re working on started out simple. Guy kidnaps and tortures girls for fun. It's eerie and just the thought makes your skin crawl. You went out on a hunch without telling anyone. Now, you’re in this man's basement after being knocked out in combat. You wake up. 

You look around, and you notice that you’re tied to a chair, in the middle of a cold, dark basement with strange drawings on the walls.

“Where the fuck am I?!” You snarl into the dark basement.

You hear a high pitched child-like voice say from behind you, 

“Just where I want you to be my love~.”

It was horrifying. You feel a shiver run down your spine as you feel the cold press of a blade on the base of your neck.

“I bet all your friends are looking for you, hmm agent? I bet they care about you so much.” It taunts.

You stumble across the courage to say, “They’re fast.”

It laughs while carefully caressing the knife over your face, lurking over you like a leech. You wait in agony as it teases you with the tip of the blade. 

Finally, walking in front of you. You see that it's a man, a full-grown man. Disheveled and disgusting. He has brown shaggy hair that hangs in greasy loops over his face. His skin looks rough and scarred. His eyes are staring maniacally into yours. Just by looking at him, you get the feeling you get when you see something you weren’t supposed to. He didn’t look right or sound right.

“What? You don’t like what you see?” he pouts while kneeling in front of you. You can’t shake the dread you feel hearing his voice. It’s so young. So child-like and sort of off. You don’t say a word. His face contorts into a smile.

“Well, soon enough you will.” 

He walks over to the corner and returns with a camera. He sets it up facing you. He turns it on. Waving at the camera with a wide infantile grin, he walks over to you.

The BAU

“I don't know what to do! Did anybody get any information about where she was going?” Penelope urged. Everyone was crowded in her office, scanning the monitors for any information that would lead to you. Spencer was the first to speak while he was pacing around the room,

“No- why didn’t she tell any of us! She should’ve known to tell us. God, why didn't she think!"

He sounds angry to the normal person, but to the rest of the team they know he’s desperately worried.

“Wait! Did you check his laptop? Like everything on it, what he was doing, stuff like that.” Spencer rushes over and questions Garcia. 

She quickly chimes back, “Obviously! Wait- oh my god. There was a page I didn’t open. You know how his parents told us he used to stream online? Maybe he still does.” 

Everyone is now huddled against Penelope.

“Oh my god.” Emily mutters. He was streaming. You were on the stream, sitting in a dimly lit basement with drawings of animals and candy all over the walls. A tall man standing behind you combing your hair, with a knife.

“Oh my god that piece of shit. Penelope can you track this? Please. Do it. Now.” Spencer hisses. He’s never normally like this. But with you in danger, something about him is feral. 

Penelope gets a little startled at his harsh tone but nevertheless stabs back with, 

“On it. Looking looking looking…..Got it! 2734 linktin ave.”

Spencer almost runs out the door. The team follows behind him but his urgency alarms them all slightly. 

Basement

You suddenly start to cry. You keep telling yourself that the team is coming and that they’ll find you. But you can’t lie that you’re losing hope. Fast. The man sets out some surgical tools on the floor and leans into your face. With a box cutter in hand, he grabs your wrist with a fierce grip and starts slowly dragging the knife into your hand, leaving you writhing in pain. You try your best not to show any emotion, hoping that maybe he’d stop. But to no avail. With a scoop of his finger, he takes your blood and asks you one simple question, “What do you wanna be?”

You wail, “What do you mean?!! What do you want!?”

“Hmm… I guess i'll decide for you!” he smiles and begins to dig his fingers into your wound, takes out the blood and begins to draw on your face, slowly with excruciatingly careful strokes he drips the warm blood over your skin. You shutter and cry when suddenly he screams,

“STOP CRYING! You stupid BITCH! YOU’RE RUINING MY MASTERPIECE!”

You wail in pain as he digs the knife into your hand, drawing agonizing lines once, another time, and another. Each time drawing more and more on your face and down your neck. He begins to pull on your lips, mimicking a smile- then quickly pulling them down into a frown. All while smiling.

The BAU

Spencer was pushing on the gas, speeding to get to you. In his mind, he kept thinking of your smile, your kind eyes, and all the things he loves about you. He hasn’t told you that he loves you yet, and he started to regret that decision as your absence progressed. He swerves into the man's driveway and immediately gets out running into the house. The door is locked. With a steady kick to the door, it swung sporadically open. He starts stalking inside, gun drawn. The team quickly rushes in behind him.

“Wait reid!” Derek insists. 

Spencer isn’t phased and opens every single door until he finds the basement. The basement door which was once locked, now lay battered and broken clinging to its hinges. The team quickly hurry down the steps yelling, “FBI DROP YOUR WEAPON AND PUT YOUR HANDS UP!”

The man quickly holds the knife up to your neck, taunting the team with his threat.

“Don’t you dare touch her. Put your hands up and drop the knife. Now.” Spencer snaps at the man. The man laughs, and then, in an instant, a gunshot rings throughout your ears. You feel the grip on your neck start to falter, and you hear the man's body thump on the cold ground behind you. The team's eyes beam towards Spencer and his gun. 

Spencer and Emily quickly undo your restraints, and as you try to get up, your legs wobble and Spencer catches you in his arms. 

“You’re safe now, let's get you to the doctor.” 

“Wait- let me see my face-.” 

Spencer nods and lifts you up, taking you to a mirror. You look in the mirror, horrified. You finally understand what the man meant by ’what do you want to be’. He was doing face paint. There were long thin lines that resembled grotesque clown lips and nose, eye liner, blush, and detailed lines. How could he have done this? With blood and a blade. It was brutal. You begin to sob at your reflection.

Up in the driveway you’re greeted by paramedics who cater to your wounds and sit you down in the ambulance. Once you’re all patched up, Spencer walks over to you, wrapping you in a blanket and sitting beside you.

“I’m so sorry.” He mutters.

Due to the loss of blood which was getting fixed by the iv in your arm, you felt hazy.

“It-’ts okay.” you mumble.

“you're safe.” 

“mhm-mm” You hum while leaning your head down on his shoulder. You were too tired to understand any of his words.

“I love you. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you before.”

“M-mn yea.” you mumble.

You weren’t completely sure what was going on, and Spencer picked up on that. He decided he would tell you when you could actually form a sentence. Even though you felt horrible, Spencers arms wrapped around you replaced your dread with warmth, and that you could understand.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #bau #fem!reader x spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencerreid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fic #baureader

[novoaa1writes]

house-training

pairing(s): dark!poison ivy x f!reader x dark!harley quinn

summary:

For a beat (or two), Ivy says nothing. Dimly, you can’t help but find her ability to maintain a stoic front in the face of Harley’s, shall we say, Harley-ness rather impressive. 

And then, finally: “Harley, dear,” she begins, words tinged with exasperation. “What did I say about getting a pet?”

word count: ~1,000

rating: explicit (18+)

warnings: this is a dark!fic. that means non-consensual dynamics, non-consensual touching, etc. etc. all of it, non-consensual! dead dove: do not eat. bad BDSM etiquette, humiliation, implications of pet play (harley calls reader ‘puppy’), brief mommy kink, profanity, condescension, uneven power dynamics, un-negotiated three-person play, references to past non-consensual physical punishments, ivy’s vines. no minors; don’t like, don’t read! 

notes: bro i do not know. i am literally just sitting here

— —

You awaken to the scent of fresh greens tickling your nose. Unusual. You nuzzle your face further into the pillow, inhaling deeply. Fresh, clean, grassy. Nothing like the gunpowder and bubblegum aroma that infuses every inch of Harley’s cluttered apartment. 

Reluctantly, you crack open an eyelid—

And promptly snap the other one open, too. 

Shit. 

A tall, green-skinned woman looms over you, cataloguing you silently with a contemplative—but decidedly critical—expression. Springy, corkscrew curls tease her bare shoulders, each strand a startling shade of red. Lean, green arms are crossed against her chest, and a single green vine taps out an impatient rhythm on her hip.

For a long moment, neither of you say anything. 

You know who she is. You know that she knows you know who she is.   

Her gaze is calm and measured as it sweeps over the state of you: the lipstick smeared across your chin, the pinkish handprints across swollen cheeks... the collar around your neck. The blanket does little to preserve any pretense of modesty.  

Shame heats your cheeks.

The woman—Poison Ivy—just rolls her eyes. As you watch, another vine snakes up her back to perch on her shoulder. She murmurs something unintelligible to it, though you can make out the word ‘Harley.’

The plant is quick to dismiss itself, and you… well. You don’t dare look away from her, even as the vine slithers over your waist to where Harley is sprawled face-down beside you. There’s a puff of… something behind you, then a sweet pollen-like scent infusing the air. 

A grumble tickles your shoulder. “Wha—Wha’ happen’d?” Harley slurs out as she rouses, voice rough with sleep. “Whaddaya—” You can tell the moment she blinks herself awake, the moment she spots the… visitor in the bedroom, because— “PAM-A-LAMB!”

Her excited screech fills your ears. Both you and Ivy wince.

“When’d’ya get back? Did’ya see the Venus flytrap? It’s pretty cool, right? I named him ‘Red’ ‘cause I missed you!”

Harley’s sitting bolt upright in bed now, practically bouncing on her haunches, the sheets bunched around her waist. You whine when the blanket goes with her, cool air ghosting across your naked back in its absence.

For a beat (or two), Ivy says nothing. Dimly, you can’t help but find her ability to maintain a stoic front in the face of Harley’s, shall we say, Harley-ness rather impressive. 

And then, finally: “Harley, dear,” she begins, words tinged with exasperation. “What did I say about getting a pet?”

— —  

“Aw, Red, don’t be like that,” Harley pouts, only mildly chagrined. “She’s cute as a button! C’mon, puppy, up,” she urges, shaking your shoulder and poking you with both hands. 

You bite back a sigh but do as she says, hoisting yourself up on shaky arms. 

A pale arm curls around your waist, pulling you back against a warm and very naked Harley. “Good girl,” she coos in a voice that’s all honey and sweetness, her lips grazing the shell of your ear. A shudder runs down your spine, and you feel her smirk against your skin. “I know ya said no pets, Ive, but just look at her.” It takes all your willpower not to cover your bare chest—littered with swollen-pink bite marks and streaks of dried spit —as Ivy’s unimpressed gaze falls on you. “I couldn’t help myself!”

“Clearly.” Ivy’s tone is droll even as a glint of… something ignites itself in her darkened gaze. Interest, perhaps. “I guess she does, admittedly, hold a certain… appeal.” The vines at her feet shudder in kind. 

A renewed flush heats your cheeks. It’s agony to keep still as her eyes sink lower, lower… And Harley—like she knows exactly what Ivy’s thinking, damn her—is quick to reposition herself to reach more of you, her hands creeping down your thighs.

“C’mon, puppy girl, spread ‘em,” she murmurs, tapping out an errant melody on the skin above your kneecaps. “You don’t wanna make me ask twice, do ya?”

Your spine stiffens. As threats of hers go, this one is somewhat thinly-veiled; already, your body bears a hundred hurts and bruises from days of calling her bluff. Suffice it all to say you’ve learned your lesson. 

You don’t resist as Harley urges your thighs apart with firm hands, your overworked muscles straining to accommodate the shift. Cool air ghosts over the slick, swollen mess between your thighs; your legs tremble with the effort to keep from closing them. 

God, it aches. 

“Oh, my,” Ivy remarks roughly, head tilted, her eyes glued to your most private parts. In the very same breath, a number of vines inch towards you, creeping up the bedframe. “Harley did quite the number on you, didn’t she?” Her gaze darts up to meet yours.

You’re quick to look away, cheeks aflame. “Answer her, sweetness,” Harley prompts, nails skating up your thighs—a warning. 

“Y—” You flinch when the first vine touches you, its budded green tip grazing along the fleshy skin of your inner thigh. “Yes.”

Harley hums. “Poor baby,” she coos, planting a feather-light kiss beneath your ear that sends a tingle down your spine. “Puppy girl isn’t quite house-trained, yet, is she?”

Tears burning in your eyes, you shake your head. “N-No.”

“Mommy had to use the hairbrush, didn’t she?” Harley adds, a hand ghosting across your battered cunt—but stopping just short. 

Your chest feels tight; your sore, overworked cunt throbbing in time with your rapidly beating heart. “Y-Yes,” you whisper, every muscle tensed—bracing yourself for the inevitable. 

You choke back a sob when Harley’s fingers slide down, down, down to your glistening outer lips, spreading them apart with ease. “Sh-shh,” Harley shushes you, like you’re an unruly child throwing a tantrum. “You’re okay, puppy girl. I know it hurts, I know.” Her fingers pull up and back until all of you is exposed, open to Ivy’s attentive gaze.

You nearly faint on the spot.

“Messy thing,” Ivy muses, more to herself than anyone else. 

You wish the ground would swallow you whole. 

“You wanna play with her, don’t’cha?” Harley teases in a sing-song tone, your nether lips kept mercilessly spread between her fingers. “Admit it.”

Ivy rolls her eyes but nods, irises dark with intention. “You’re incorrigible, my love.” A vine curls its way around your ankle. 

“Guilty as charged.”

Fuck. 

— —

end notes: hehe haha. me when i. me when. me .....

link to masterlist

#poison ivy x reader #harley quinn x reader #harley quinn x poison ivy x reader #dark!poison ivy x reader #dark!harley quinn x reader #dark!harley quinn x dark!poison ivy x reader #f!reader #stuff i wrote #dark fic #dark!harley quinn x dark!poison ivy x f!reader

[pizzaqueen]

those magic fingers

Rated T / 2.4k / back rubs and fluff!

Eddie has a sore back, Steve offers the solution: one back rub. Totally platonic. No ulterior motives or hidden feelings whatsoever.

Excerpt:

“Okay.” Steve kicks off his shoes and crawls onto the bed, sitting propped against the wall. He pats the space in front of him. “C’mere.”

Eddie’s brows raise. “You gonna give me a back rub or something?”

“Well, if you don’t want one…”

“I didn’t say that. I was asking a question.” Eddie huffs and sets the book aside. He gets onto the bed, knee-walking over to where Steve is sitting; he turns around, flopping back against Steve. “All right,” he says, wiggling his shoulders against Steve’s chest, “work your magic.”

Steve pushes Eddie until he sits up and settles his hands over Eddie’s shoulders. “Is it your back?”

“Yeah… I mean, it’s not just my back, it’s my shoulders too.”

“Okay, just—” Steve pauses, suddenly wondering what the hell he’s doing and why he offered to do this. But he did, and if he backs down, Eddie will know something’s up. So, he draws in a deep breath and says, “Tell me if it hurts.”

“Anything you say, doc.”

Steve moves Eddie’s hair out of the way, gathering it to one side and pushing it gently over his shoulder. It bares the back of his neck, pale and soft, the notches of his spine. Something warm and indescribable moves inside Steve’s chest, just from looking at the back of Eddie’s neck. He sighs and fights the urge to trace the curve of Eddie’s spine with his mouth, but he does run his thumb up the side of Eddie’s neck.

A shiver runs through Eddie, and he says, “I thought you were giving me a back rub, not tickling me.”

“I can do both.” Steve digs his fingers into Eddie’s sides, and Eddie twitches, then lets out a pained gasp. “Sorry,” Steve says, and then he settles his hands on Eddie’s shoulders.

Eddie sucks in a breath as Steve digs his thumbs in.

“Holy shit, dude, your shoulders feel like rocks.”

Eddie grunts. “I’m made of rock and roll, what do you expect?”

“You’re made of dork.”

“Pfft.”

Steve tries to work out the knots, almost regretting it when Eddie lets out a low moan. It sends heat shooting through him, immediately followed by guilt. He’s doing this to help Eddie because he’s in pain and he’s Steve’s friend, but he can’t turn the feelings off. Touching Eddie always feels so good, and with the little noises Eddie’s making, Steve feels all mixed up.

“You know,” Eddie says, voice rough, “I bet if you gave your lady friends shoulder rubs like this, you wouldn’t be single.”

“What?”

“Seriously, they should call you ‘Magic Fingers’ Harrington.”

“Uh… I’ll keep it in mind.”

Read the rest at AO3

#steddie #Steve x eddie #Steddie fic #Steddie fanfic #steveddie #Steddie fanfiction #that excerpt might be too long 😅 #pizzaqueenfic

[ezgee-badally]

“Break Me Please”

A softer story to cleanse my palate a bit. This started as a short post but I am a writer so it turned into this lol.

18+ Trigger Warning: Light Homophobic language

Original Post: I Need some overzealous politically active uppity dyke in my town to discover my small but growing kink blog and try to blackmail me….

She and I have been fighting over the right way to respond to hate speech at pride events. I wanted to get the input of the community first, organize counter protesters and arrange for security and safe rides home. You wanted to act right away. Go get some people together and slash their tires and graffiti their homes. You’re mad at me after a debate between the two of us got particularly vicious. You search and dig for anything you can use to get me to back down, and you hit the Jackpot.

While rubbing yourself and going through your sapphic porn blogs before bed one night you go to block some dykebreaking blog that ended up in your feed. But the writing looks so familiar. You read a few more of my posts and start to DM me. After a few days you offer “Talking to you has been really fucking hot, if you tell me your name I’ll record myself screaming it out while I cum.”

I give you a fake name.

You start to lose it. “Cut the shit I know who you Fucking are I have your number in my phone.”

“Then text me.” I say.

You prove who you are and that you know who I am. I refuse to talk about it anymore through DM. You invite me to your place to discuss terms.

“Shut it down and quit volunteering. If I hear you’re trying to break any dykes ever again I’ll expose you for the pig you are.” She says as I scan the area. Nice house, if a little messy.

“No.” I say, and I stand up. “In fact I think I know why you didn’t just tell everyone in the first place whore.”

You instinctively back up a pace. “What are you talking about?”

You pull out your phone. You prepare a quick email and show your thumb hovering over the button. “Touch me and I’ll hit send.”

I walk towards you slowly, I grab your wrists and push you against the wall, your phone drops from your hand and clatters to the ground. I stare deeply into your eyes for a long moment before kissing you deeply and passionately. You kiss back surprising me. And we have a long, near-violent make out session. When I pull away to bite and kiss your neck I can hear the mixture of animal lust and self loathing in the soft involuntary moans between breaths. I can feel your body cede control to me and you stop resisting me pinning you to the wall. I release one of your hands from my grip and go to gently fondle your breasts, then move to start tracing my fingers around your areolae before pinching and tweaking your nipple with my finger. “Fuck you have nice tits dyke.” I say in a breathy whisper.

You push me away and slap me, it’s like you came out of a trance. “Fucking pig, get away from me. I like girls, you can’t turn me.”

I look you up and down with an animal lust in my eyes. “Then stop me. Say no, do something about it.” And I kiss you again, you can’t help but think about how my rough thick tongue would feel against your clit… you pull away and spit in my face resisting your own primal urges. “Pig, I’ll never let you fuck me.”

I wipe the spit from my face, and I shove my hand down your pants with one hand. You move to stop me but it’s too late, I’m already prodding and exploring your already wet little pussy with my finger. You gasp as I do and squirm a little in embarrassment. “You like being choked whore?” I whisper as I nibble your earlobe. You moan gently and nod affirmatively. I wrap my free hand around your throat. You grab my wrist but you don’t pull away you push my hand harder against your throat. “I don’t want to turn you. I want to break you, I want you to know for a fact your gay when I finally break you on my hot pulsing misogynist dykebreaking cock.” As I plunge a second finger inside you, pushing and wriggling and exploring. After savouring your each and every moan and movement, I use my finger to search for your swollen clit and gently prod it. Your leg twitches involuntarily as I do.

“It’s been a while hasn’t it. It’s been long enough it doesn’t even matter what you want, your body is telling you what you want.”

Your heart is thumping, your body hot with shame and desire. Your breathing is heavy as I continue running my finger around your clit, you start to feel something stirring inside you. My pace changes and I start to find a steady rhythm. The muscles in your back twitch and you let out a loud “Fuuuuuck yessss, keep going.”

I struggle to maintain my position as your body writhes in pleasure. “Dont. Stop.” You whisper as you prepare yourself. And I stop. I pull my fingers from you and remove my hand from your throat. You are practically vibrating with built up tension and you collapse, but the lack of release causes something to bubble up inside you….

“What the fuck?” You say, still breathing heavily. Frustrated. Unzip my pants and pull out my hot, stiff and throbbing. You look at it almost mesmerized. “Dykes only get to cum after I’m done with them.” As I let my cock fall on your face with a satisfying *slap*.

“I don’t suck cock.” You say looking at me defiantly.

I get on the floor with you, then I put my hand down your pants again and start fingering you furiously. “Does the good little dyke want to cum?” You gasp and try to contain yourself, but after mere moments you find yourself saying “Please let me cum.” Then I pull out of you and say “Then suck cock like a good little lesbian.”

You hesitate as I press the tip of my cock against your pretty lips. I grab your short hair as I push my cock slowly into your mouth you begin bobbing your head as I make demands. “Watch your fuckin teeth.”

“Deeper” “Faster” “Use your tongue.” In frustration I grab the back of your head and start fucking your face for a short period. I grunt and moan in pleasure as I do. You tolerate it briefly before pulling away, coughing and choking on spit and pre-cum.

“God you’re shit at sucking cock. I was gonna let you get away without taking away your gold star… but it looks like I’m gonna have to break you in after all.”

I roll you onto your back and pull off your pants. Kissing your body and neck, drawing my tongue down your torso and along your hip bones. I move back up and give you one more passionate sensual kiss as I position the head of my thick cock at the entrance to your pussy. As I start to push inside inch by inch, you start to gasp and moan and writhe in a mixture of pleasure and light pain as my cock stretches you. I accidentally go too deep and hit your cervix, you wince in pain. I start to slowly pump myself in and out, careful not to go too deep. As I do you feel this ache inside you. “Ah! Faster” you moan. I pick up the pace and start angling myself to find the perfect position. You start to buck your hips and eventually match the rhythm of my thrusts. Moaning like a beast in heat, I lick my finger and begin searching for your clit. I prod draw my finger around it for a moment and enjoy your now loud ravenous moaning before remembering the correct motion. As I find it, I hear a brief “Ah! Fuck”.

I whisper in your ear as you start to build up to an orgasm once more. “Are you gonna be a good dyke and cum on my cock?” A flash of defiance hits your face before I thrust into you again and you give in. “Yes, make me cum on your dykebreaking cock please!” Instead of stopping I continue, I wrap my free hand around your throat again while trying to maintain my position through your body’s spasms of ecstasy. “Fuckyes Fuckyes Fuuuuuuuuuck.”

And I feel it start to hit you. My cock thrust into you as my finger rubs your clit and your body explodes with violent waves of pleasure. Your eyes roll back into your head and you relax and let wave after wave hit you. As I release my grip on your neck and the blood rushes back to your brain you briefly black out.

When you come to, you’re on the couch with a blanket over you. I’m making tea in your kitchen. I bring a cup over to you and I ask “So, still going to expose me?”

You look up at me as if seeing me for the first time all over again. “No. Thank you, I needed that. I think… I think I’m starting to understand now.”

We still argue and fight all the time of course, but now you just take all that pent up frustration and let me fuck it out of you. Nothing has changed really, except now the butchest dyke in town is nothing but a whore for my cock.

#lgetsd #orientation play #dykebreaking

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

It Takes a Mob pt.6

Previous

First

“I still don’t get why Bill gets the kid. He didn’t even want him if the first place!”

Bill sighed he absentmindedly put a hand across the giggling mound on his front.

“Yeah yeah, you forget you’re a crackhead without an’ addiction. Can’t hide shit on you.”

Locking the door behind them, Bill checked that Danny could still breathe under the jacket Marv shoved over them.

Bill, quite frankly, felt like a child messing around in his father’s closet again.

The jacket was big on Marv, so Bill looked was drowning in the thing.

“You act like you aren’t happy that I’m the one doing the heavy lifting.”

Marv let out a guffaw from behind him,

“Heavy lifting? Bill, he’s a baby, weighs less than a handful of grapes.”

“Yeah, well how about we switch, and you say that after afterwards? I have a newfound respect for women.”

Danny poked his head out and seemed very entertained by the commute.

Happily babbling away an swiveling to and fro'.

‘Good instincts,’

Bill mused,

‘Keep them up kid. Watchful eyes, saves your guys and all that.’

The three thugs were walking together in a rough diagonal line with Bill in the center. It was casual enough not to draw attention but if needed they could have the kid covered. Maybe they were being a bit paranoid, but that pays in crime ally. The rest of the walk for what it was worth, was thankfully quiet.

Well, as quiet as Gotham could be. A couple of meagering drunks and some of the nosy ladies of the night withstanding.

A couple light jokes with the ladies and a look from the others got to the guys and they got were they needed to be without any fanfare.

No, problems only arose when they got to work.

It started at the door.

Danny was gently tucked away as they walked to the door.

“Hey fellas, I know we have no official dress code ‘round here but you’re pushing it with that dress.”

“Stan, if I wanted your opinion on my clothes I’d’ve asked ahead of time. Just check us in.”

Stan leaned against the door before dramatically lifting his clipboard.

“Alright, your names?”

“What?”

“What? Need a name to sign you in. Would hate to have all those hours to go unaccounted for.”

Oh, Bill hates Stan, pompous because got a job through daddy dearest. He would blame his upbringing, but Bill knew the Brat’s father. Gabe did his best with that one, just unfortunate that his kid took after his Ex-wife more often than not.

Any normal given night, this would be the moment that someone would have to descale the situation. Bill felt the urge to grab his knife in the back of his mind.

But this was no ordinary night. He was carrying something a lot squishier and more precious than his bruised ego at the moment.

“Bill.”

Was spat through gritted teeth. Stan clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“Don’t see a Bill here.”

“Man, just let Bill in, you know him! He’s been working here for two years!”

“Well, I’m just doing my job Marv, you don’t have to be so feisty.”

Bill released out a deep breath be for uttering,

“William. Overbeck. Junior.”

“Ahh! Yup! There you are Junior! Making’ your old man proud, right?”

“Listen here you tweaky little fuck- “

“Stanley? you better not be messing with Bill out there! If you need to learn a thing or two from a senior than I can gladly-“

“No madam! Right this way.”

Bill always had a soft spot for Ken’s Me-mah. He made sure to step aside as Ken ran too her voice.

“Me-maw!!”

“Hi sugar, you’ve been keeping’ out of trouble now?”

Ken was grinning like a mad man as held the elderly lady.

“Only the stuff I’m not given permission to do!”

“That’s my boy.”

“What are you doing in our neck of the woods this evening?”

Marv asked as she walked over to the others.

“Oh, you know how it is in the kitchen, all the hard things to carry I just thought I was best I didn’t bother trying. We got enough flour and rice to feed all of crime alley that needs to be unloaded. Bill, Marv, do you mind helping a weak old woman?”

“Hardly weak, Me-mah. Everybody knows you have just as much sway as a general around here.”

“And don’t you forget it sonny! Now you two, come! We got work to do for tomorrow and the night is young.”

Bill shifted awkwardly on his feet,

“Well, you see- “

“Don’t you start with me William! I still know your daddy’s number! Now get!”

~~~~~~~~

Bill and Marv stepped into the old kitchen single file. The smell of spices and heat of the oven filled the air.

Bringing out a large cutting board Me-mah gestured to Bill with a knife.

“So, before we begin, do you boys want to tell me what you dragged into my kitchen?”

‘Shit,’

The men shared a glance, and Bill raised a hand to try to come up with something plausible.

“Don’t you think about lying or running, we all know I’ll eventually find out. The only question is am I finding out by you or by word of mouth. Now off with the coat Bill, unless you’re finally eating right.”

Bill put down his finger.

Danny let out a sneeze.

Letting out a sigh Bill reached for the zipper on his front and gingerly pulled it down before handing it to Marv.

“Oh.”

Me-mah gasped,

“That’s not a puppy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hoodlums: @reinluna,@confused-moose-child,@mimilikey,@emeraudesfateandfandoms, @dolfay, @boredomfarie @aconitewolfsbane , @withoutcontxt , @onyxlightdragon , @satanicrutialspecialist , @phoenixdemonqueen , @vixen-uchiha , @skulld3mort-1fan , @bytheoldwillowtree , @illusionwolfwriter24r8 , @thewondersoflebanon , @vipower001 , @autumnwulf , @alice-hazelwood , @fisticuffsatapplebees , @f4nd0m-fun , @markus209, @dolfay, @basilf1res , @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair , @skirter01 , @bun-fish , @ascetic-orange , @thegatorsgoose , @sunflowershine03 , @ladythugs , @firegirl108 , @glitchedchaos , @rangerhorsetug , @mimilikey, @booberrylizard ,, @lehana37 , @dragongoblet , @flamey-comet , @mandyne-1001 , @starscreamlover , @moonfirearc , @bae-graphomaniac , @mewzaque , @wolfeyedwitch , @demon-cat-goes-woof , @undead-essence , @jaguarthecat , @scythegal ,, @boo-ghosties ,

#writing prompt #dp x dc #it takes a mob #danny fenton #danny phantom #dc x dp

[tobythewise]

Welcome to DWC! Happy friday! For Zevran/Alistair: “Hey, so about—” “I suddenly have memory loss and don’t remember who you are.”

Thank you for the welcome and for this brilliant prompt!! 🥰💚 I hope you enjoy!

(Written for @dadrunkwriting content ahead: mentions of drinking, a drunk kiss, and getting together)

Alistair wakes up in his tent with a pained groan. His mouth is parched and tastes like dirt, his head is somehow both spinning amd pounding, and his stomach is sour. The smell of booze comes from his breath, making him all the more sick.

By the Maker, what did he do last night?

Oh right. They found themselves at the Pearl, deal with yet another job their fearless leader took on. After that, they somehow found themselves playing cards with a pirate named Isabela and after that there was alcohol. A lot of it.

Alistair hasn’t had many opportunities to get drunk, not while living in Redcliffe and certainly not while studying at the Chantry. So for the first time, he accepted every glass put in front of him. Looking back, he really should have stopped after two, but once he started it felt like a cop out to stop. If Wynne could handle a few drinks, surely he should be able to as well!

That was his line of thinking anyway.

Now? Now Alistair promises himself to never drink again. He’s sticking to water going forward.

Alistair smacks his lips, realizing the last time he woke up with his mouth tasting this vile was his Joining. Great, now he’s going to start associating alcohol with Darkspawn blood.

Covering his face with his hands, Alistair groans long and low. Just then, the flap of his tent folds open, letting sunshine through.

“Close that,” he grumbles without looking up. “Too early. Too bright.”

A warm chuckle makes him part his fingers, finding Zevran carefully closing the tent flap behind himself. Alistair’s stomach does a flip only this time it’s followed by a warm tingly feeling instead of the urge to throw up.

“Ah, I had a feeling you would be feeling a bit rough this morning, my friend. I’ve brought you cold water to help.”

Without saying a single word, Alistair reaches out and takes the water skin from him. Their fingers brush and a shiver runs through him. There’s something nagging him at the back of his mind, something that happened last night.

It must not have been that important if he can’t think of it.

Alistair takes a long swing of water, thankful at the way to washes away the gross taste in his mouth. He looks over at Zevran, finding him staring. Alistair feels himself flushing, something he does often when he’s around Zevran.

And of course because he’s him, the attention makes him panic. Alistair takes a large swig, the water shooting down the wrong pipe and suddenly he’s choking on water, coughing it back up while trying not to spit any water onto Zevran.

With dexterity and smoothness that Alistair is jealous of, Zevran slides further into the tent, kneeling next to him. His hand slides across Alistair’s back, patting him a few times.

By the Maker, the blushing is back and it’s even worse now that he’s so close.

Alistair turns his head, finding himself almost nose to nose with Zevran. This close, he can make out the little golden specks in his brown eyes. He’s so close it would be so easy to….

Oh. Oh no. Holy shit. Oh god.

Alistair’s eyes widen as he realizes what he couldn’t remember about the night before. He was so drunk he could barely walk which meant Zevran had to practically carry him here. While the assassin was helping him into his bedroll, Alistair pulls him down into a sloppy, drunk kiss.

They kissed.

He kissed Zevran.

Alistair can tell the moment Zevran notices that he remembers. His eyes grow soft and he puts on an easy smile.

“Hey,” Zevran starts to say, “so about—“

Alistair does the most mature thing he can think to do in this moment. He shoves Zevran back, falls back into his bedroll, and pulls it over his face.

“I suddenly have memory loss! I don’t remember who you are!”

There’s a long moment of silence. It goes on so long that Alistair is half convinced that the man he’s grown to have a giant, embarrassing crush on has left his tent. He just wants to hide and pretend none of this has happened because he’s not sure he’ll survive the teasing this situation is going to leave him with.

“If you wish to play it this way, I am not one to push,” Zevran finally says, his voice surprisingly soft. “In my experience, drunk lips tell what one is too scared to share while sober. If that’s not the case, consider this conversation to have never happened.”

Alistair swallows around the lump in his throat. It would be so easy to let it go, to pretend it was all a drinker mistake. But for once, he wants to be brave. He wants to take a leap. Zevran is worth that.

Pulling the blanket down so only his eyes are showing, he stares up into Zevran’s eyes. “And if my drunk lips were telling the truth?”

Zevran’s lips curls into an easy smile. “Then I would ask you to never kiss me while drunk again.” Before Alistair can apologize or throw himself from the tent in embarrassment and rejection, Zevran continues. “When our lips meet, I want all of your wits about you. I want you to experience our kiss fully. I want your sober lips to talk to me, my warden.”

Alistair might not remember much about their first kiss but their second kiss? He commits it to memory, completely sober.

#dadrunkwriting #tobywrites #alistair x zevran #dragon age #fanfic #mentions of drinking #Zevran x alistair

[polyklok]

More Toki smut plz

C, H, N, O, Q, S, V

You got it!

C- Cum

As for the substance itself; a bit watery, average amount of it, and he’s a shooter (basing these off of some dumb internet charts I’ve found cause I don’t pay much attention to cum tbh)

Toki always comes inside, no questions asked. He says because coming anywhere else is either too messy or too degrading, but it’s really because he’s thinking about breeding you, let’s be honest. He’ll let out small, shaky sigh and then a loud groan, snaps his hips against yours to be as deep as possible, and fills you up with as much as he can manage. He stays there for a while, panting while he looks over your pretty face, muttering praise to you. If any spills after he pulls out, it’s getting fingered right back in.

H- Hair

I don’t think he’s ever shaved once in his life, it’s a bit of a jungle down there. If you want him to shave, he’s gonna try but he’s…gonna need your help. He tries to go for it but suddenly gets real scared once he realizes he has to put sharp objects near his silent flute. Make a day of it! Maybe shaving pubes will be your new favorite date activity (definitely not).

Honestly, Toki is down for whatever you want hair-wise for both you and him. Unless he somehow finds out that people can shave their pubes into hearts. Then he wants both of you to do it immediately!

N- NO

Any kind of hitting or spanking. Toki likes to get rough, but he draws the line at directly hitting you. It brings back too many bad memories and he always feels so bad about it. He also doesn’t like being hit, he’ll immediately start crying if you do that and will shut off from you for a long while. Absolutely not.

O- Oral

To him, oral is like an intense form of foreplay. He prefers to receive just a little more than giving.

When you go down on him, he prefers to sit while you do your business in between in thighs. He’ll let out the softest whimpers and moans, mumbling praise for you well you suck him off while a hand cards through your hair. It’s all very soft. Until he gets close, he’ll tug on your hair, fucking your face for a bit before holding down your face to come down your throat. He’ll reward you if you manage to swallow it all, too.

When giving, he completely supports your bottom half, placing your legs over his shoulders and holding onto your hips for dear life. He shoves his face as deep as he can against you, tongue-fucking you until your vision goes white. He isn’t satisfied until you’ve come at least twice for him.

Q- Quickie

He likes the idea of it, sneaking away to indulge in some quick pleasure. But he…can’t. Toki likes to take his time before the deed, and if he isn’t being slow from the get-go, he’s gonna wanna do a couple rounds just to drive in the point. If you have a quickie, he’s probably gonna be urging you for another one in 15 minutes. He’s also very obvious, with a big, dopey smile on his face so every one can tell what you guys just left the room to do.

S- Stamina

10/10, 100%, no competition.

He can go long, hard, and multiple times. You’re gonna have a hard time keeping up. He’s also fairly rough and does last a long time, so it’s usually kept to 1 or 2 rounds for your sake. He only needs a quick breather, water, and some soft comfort in between rounds before he’s ready to rev it up again. He’s so in shape, there’s really no worries in this department.

V- Volume

While he’s not super loud all the time, he makes a variety of noises and can’t hold any of them back for shit. If he’s moaning, he’s moaning, and everyone is gonna hear it. If he needs to be quiet, he’s gonna either bury his face against you or preoccupy his mouth with something else.

He whimpers, groans, grunts, moans, sighs, and dirty talks all for you. Sometimes he’ll slip into Norwegian, which is when it gets really intense. That’s his version of saying “Don’t stop.”

If anyone else wants to make a request, refer back to here

#dethklok #metalocalypse #polyklok is real #dethklok headcanon #metalocaypse headcanon #toki wartooth #request filled #metalocalypse x reader #metalocalypse toki

[campingwiththecharmings]

Shut Up and Kiss Me

AN: another ficlet! this is a result of a couple of prompt lists i saw and was inspired by (there are like 4 other prompts i was inspired by also that are ~in progress~ so be on the look-out for those if you happen to enjoy this one 😉).

(Un-beta'd)

This is it, you think. This is the day you finally snap and murder him.

Rated:  T Words: 892 Pairing: Poe Dameron x GN!Reader Warnings: kissing, arguing, a little cursing...i think that's all. AO3

----

“Dameron, if you interrupt me one more time— Maker, help me.”

It’s the middle of the night. You’re exhausted and filthy and the last thing you want to do right now is argue with the posterboy of the Resistance yet again over how your kriffing ship should be maintained.

Unluckily for you, he doesn’t seem to care what you want.

“I’m just saying–”

“I don’t care! This is my ship. Go worry about your own!”

Your aggravated words echo through the mostly empty hangar as you turn away from him, signaling that you’re finished with the conversation. He doesn’t take the hint, however, and as soon as you reach for your tools, he’s running his mouth again. 

The sound of his voice makes the blood rush in your ears and you have to close your eyes in an effort to calm yourself. 

This is it, you think. This is the day you finally snap and murder him.

Clenching your jaw you exhale in frustration and swiftly turn to face him again. “Maker, will you just shut up?!”

He stops mid-sentence, mouth hanging slightly agape as he stares at you in shock and, for the briefest of moments, he is silent. But then the shock wears off and his irritatingly handsome face contorts in annoyance, a fire igniting in his eyes.

“Why don’t you come over here and make me!” he retorts, raising his eyebrows in challenge as his hands fall defiantly to his hips.

You tilt your head at his words, eyes narrowing slightly as you continue to glare at him.

‘Make me,’ he says. With pleasure. 

You don’t remember moving, but suddenly you’re right in front of him, invading his space the way he always seems to invade yours. It throws him off, you can tell by the look in his eyes as they study you.

You realize too late that getting so close to him was a huge mistake. This close, you can smell him, can feel the warmth of his body, can see how soft his gorgeous curls look, can see the many shades of brown in his annoyingly beautiful eyes—

Oh. Oh, shit.

Your eyes widen a little, flicking briefly to his lips before you can stop yourself and he notices. Something in his gaze shifts and you swallow thickly in anticipation.

“Do you wanna kiss me or kill me? I honestly can’t tell.” 

His voice is low, rough, and just a little bit teasing. You flush slightly in annoyance and cross your arms over your chest defensively.

“Right now? Definitely the second one.”

He bites his bottom lip in an effort to hold back a smile and you mentally curse yourself when it causes your heart to stutter a little.

“And before?” he asks innocently, moving somehow even closer to you.

“Before what?” you ask, holding his gaze and fighting the urge to step back and create space between you.

He allows himself to smile a little this time and the action momentarily draws your attention back to his mouth. When your gaze returns to his, there is a teasing glint in his eyes.

“I would be happy to kiss you, you know, if that’s what you need.”

Aggravation and embarrassment flare in your chest, drowning out any positive feelings you were having towards him. “You’re insufferable, do you know that?”

“So that’s a ‘no’ then?” he jokes, teasing smile widening.

You scoff and begin to turn back to your ship. “Goodnight, Commander.”

He huffs and gently grasps your arm to keep you from turning away. “Oh, come on, you’re throwing in the towel already? Normally we do this for another couple of rounds." 

"Yeah well, I’m tired, Dameron."

"I can see that. That’s why you should just do what I suggested and—"

He's still talking but the blood is rushing in your ears again and—you have to get him to stop, you have to or you're really gonna lose it.

Without a second thought, you fist your hands in his shirt, yank him toward you, and stop his mouth with yours.

You close your eyes and sigh against his lips in relief (and you tell yourself it's because of the silence, but deep down, you know better). 

His lips are warm and dry as they eagerly press against yours. He groans into your mouth when you plunge your fingers into his curls, walking him backwards to press him against the nearest hard surface. His tongue swipes against the seam of your lips and you moan softly, parting them enough for him to slip inside.

You feel his hands, which had fallen to your waist when you'd hauled him over to you, slide around to the small of your back, his fingers clutching at the fabric of your shirt. He pulls you against him, bringing your hips flush against his, and you break from his mouth with a gasp. His breath puffs against your cheek, his nose bumping yours as he presses his forehead to yours.

“So I guess you’re not planning to kill me then?”

You snort a laugh, allowing your hands to drop to his shoulders. “Maybe later. Right now I have an intake valve to replace.”

“You know,” he starts, smiling when you groan in exasperation, “You could cut the repair time in half if you—”

“Just shut up and kiss me, Dameron.”

Review (pretty please)?

🌟 Masterlist 🌟

i am no longer doing a taglist. please follow @charmingupdates for updates and turn on notifications.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron fic #poe dameron reader insert #my fic

[captains-simp]

Carol Danvers ~ Friends With Complicated Benefits

Art by wickedmuses

A/n: Happy birthday to brie larson, the timing of this post was not deliberate 😭

1.8k words

Warnings: oral sex, praise and blood draining

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee? ☕️

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Jesus, Carol, you look like shit.” You muttered as you took in the sight of your best friend slumped against the back of the bed with a far off look in her eye that was aimed at the tv on the wall. You propped down your bag and kicked off your shoes as you gave Carol a concerned look from across the room. “When was the last time you ate?” You asked cautiously. 

The ex hero hated what she had to ‘eat’ to survive. Once the strongest Avenger that protected the world from any and all harm, Carol had become one of the monsters that lurked in the shadows and feasted on the vulnerable. The kind of threat that she herself would have once strived to banish or kill. It destroyed her piece by piece every time she took a life. She always swore against doing it again until the pure animalistic urges became too strong and her attacks were far more brutal than they would have been if she had a hand on the steering wheel. Any threat to her life brought that out. There was nothing she could do. 

Needless to say, Carol wasn’t the best at taking care of herself when that was what it took, but that wasn’t the only way her self care dropped. There were times the Captain found it hard to tackle seemingly simple tasks like shower so you checked in on her whenever you could to lift her spirits and brought her over the top bubble baths, junk food (that she could eat if she had blood with it), cheesy romance films she loved taking the piss out of, anything you could. 

The biggest thing you gave was yourself. When Carol didn’t eat there was a particularly rough patch between when she started to get hungry and when it took over entirely. She seemed utterly exhausted and like a dead woman walking, which she technically was but you never brought that up. It pained you to see her like that, so you offered your own blood - as much as she could take before you were on the brink of passing out. 

Of course, she hated it at first. She had shouted at you for even suggesting such a thing but you pushed it again and again until one night she snapped and sunk her teeth into the soft skin of your neck before you knew what was happening and drained you until you started to feel dizzy. She had done it a few times, insisting she didn’t want to make it a habit or rely on you, not that you would have minded. 

“Car.” You said as you sat down next to her. She looked at you briefly then turned back to the screen, pretending to focus on what was going on. “Look at me.” She didn’t. You grabbed her chin softly and turned it towards you and saw Carol’s gaze soften. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” She said quietly. “I could hurt you.”

“I know that, but I don’t care. I just want you to be okay.” You said honestly. Carol watched you carefully, like she was trying to find a lie beneath your words.

“Why?” She continued, in need of the reassurance only you could provide.

“Because I care about you, Car. I can’t lose you to something I can help prevent.” You whispered. Carol’s eyes glistened in the light as she took in your words. You were about to continue, to tell her just how much she meant to you but you were stopped when she kissed you. 

You responded immediately, falling into a perfect rhythm with the blonde and cherishing the faint taste of the strawberry chapstick she always used. You bought it for her. You whimpered when Carol lifted you up and moved you to straddle her lap. You allowed her to manhandle you all she wanted, only focusing on the feeling of her lips against yours. She caught you off guard when she bit down and apparently was surprised herself to find that her fangs had come out. You felt the sharp puncture to your lips and Carol hissed and pulled away as soon as a drop of blood touched her own lips. 

She groaned and fought to keep urges under control. The taste of your blood was addicting and brought up so many grotesque images in her head of your bloodied, lifeless, body laying on her bed, eyes staring straight up in shock. Images like that flashed through the blonde’s mind frantically and it was harder for her to control her impulses. She saw so much blood. So much of your blood. She had never told you, but yours tasted better than any other. It was so much more difficult to contain herself when she drained you.

“It’s okay.” Your voice came through the haze. Carol blinked when she felt your hands on either side of her face, pulling her back towards you. Her vision cleared just like that, back to the present with you. She could still taste you though. “You should keep going.” You encouraged gently but the captain shook her head as she leaned into your touch. 

Carol had been entirely honest with you about the details of her new form and the powers it included. The only thing she hadn’t told you about was the inhuman increase in her smell. She was going to tell you once she noticed it, but then she had drained you for the first time and could smell the arousal between your legs. She smelt it every time and she had been eager to have the full experience of it at some point. That evening, she decided she had waited enough. 

“I want to taste something else.” Your breath caught in your throat when she opened her eyes and locked them in on you. They were almost feline, pupils turned into thin slits and the usual brown becoming an emerald green.  

Your thighs squeezed together at her words but her hands suddenly shot down to grip them, like she had some sixth sense that told her what you did. She pushed them apart slowly as she kept her eyes locked on yours. Her slim fingers hooked under your sweatpants and panties and pulled them down together. You relaxed in her grip when her cold hands ran down your thighs after she had discarded the clothing. 

"Carol." You whined softly and she smirked knowingly. 

"Patience." She cooed as her head dropped to the place between your legs. You threaded your fingers through Carol's thick hair and she allowed you to push her closer to where you needed her most. Her grip on your thighs tightened as she ran her tongue teasingly through your folds and moaned against you once she tasted how wet you were for her. 

"Fuck." You whimpered softly when her tongue danced on your clit and sucked on the throbbing button. She hummed as she sucked and you squirmed beneath her at the buzz. You bucked your hips up when Carol withdrew from your clit only to dip her tongue through your folds. You moaned as your head fell back against the pillows and the blonde pushed her tongue in further, curling it expertly to brush against every inch of your inner walls only to savour as much of your taste as she could. You tugged on her hair harder when her tongue flexed on your g spot. Gasping, you pleaded for Carol to continue what she was doing, desperate to make the bliss last longer. 

"Good girl." The blonde groaned when she felt you clench around her muscle. Her hands wandered up beneath your shirt to tweak your hardened nipples between her forefinger and thumb. The action earned her another needy mewl from you and had you gushing with more wetness.

"Carol." You panted. "I'm gonna cum, please don't stop!" You begged shamelessly. Carol chuckled, the vibrations making you feel even more on fire, and started thrusting her tongue faster. 

The coil finally snapped when she started rubbing your clit in tight circles with her thumb. You came hard on your best friend's tongue and bucked your hips up into her to ride out your orgasm for as long as you could until Carol pulled away with a satisfied grin and you pulled her in for a rough kiss and hummed at the taste of yourself.

Carol however, was reacquainted with the intoxicating taste of your blood. She hissed lowly into the kiss and you gently pushed her back. "It's okay. Take it." The blonde eyed your pulse point hungrily, watching the quick pulsations and practically drooling at the sight. 

As much as she wanted to, she couldn't hold off her urges any longer and lunged forward towards your neck. Her sharp fangs pierced your skin and sunk in instantly. You gasped at the sudden pain and gripped onto Carol's back for stability as your blood started to stream out and into the blonde's mouth. 

Carol sucked on the spot that her teeth were anchored into and growled against you, feeling her strength and power overwhelming her as it returned. She had no idea that blood post orgasm could taste so much better and give her such an intense power rush. It went straight to her head and she gripped onto your fragile body tighter. 

"Carol." You said weakly once you realised you were past the point that she usually stopped. You pushed against her weakly but the blonde growled louder and more blood gushed from your wound. "Please." You whimpered.

Her eyes shot open and she ripped herself from you suddenly. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm so-" you shushed her weakly and pulled her to you with all the strength you could. 

"I'll get you steak and chocolates and-" She rambled, reciting the foods she kept in her apartment for moments such as these to help raise your blood levels back to normal, but you cut her off again. Sure, she had gotten carried away but you knew you would be fine. If anything you were feeling slightly giddy from the whole exchange.

"Just stay." You croaked. Carol nodded and pulled you close to her, kissing the spot on your neck that she had punctured and wrapping her arms around you to cradle your weak body. She only started to relax once she felt your breathing come back to normal and saw the open wound on your neck begin to close. You were right. You would always be in safe hands with Carol, even if that night was a close call. 

"Thank you." She said, clearer than ever. You hummed, a small smile playing on your lips and feeling safe in the arms of your favourite vampire. 

#carol danvers smut #carol danvers imagine #carol danvers #captain #captain marvel smut #captain marvel imagine #vampire!carol #vampire!caroldanvers #marvel

[elliezlils11utt]

scars:

TW: SH MENTIONS AND DARKER TOPICS ‼️

WARNING : this fic tackles a serious topic that may cause harm. if you feel like you are not in the right headspace, please do not read this fic in any way. and this fic is IN NO WAY romanticizing self harm. this fic was made strictly for comfort purposes. I write when I get the urge and this fic brings me comfort, so I’d thought I’d share it. ‼️

A/N: I’ve been struggling recently so I whipped this bad boy up, I needed some Ellie comfort or I felt like I was finna explode😍🙏🏽

Summary: Ellie finds fresh sh marks on your thighs during sex and comforts you </33

your mind goes foggy as guilt bubbles up in your throat. you love the feeling of Ellie’s lips trailing down your body. but you can’t shake the guilty feeling that fills ur lungs with every breath you intake. see, Ellie knows in your past you went through rough patches and doing some shit to your body that you didn’t mean. she knows about your scars. when she first found out you hurt yourself, it was your first time with her. she pulled down ur pants to reveal your old scars that sat in your thigh. she paused for a moment before turning to you and she just kissed them repeatedly. her hands ran over the bumps of the scars as she gave them little kisses. she didn’t say anything about it in fear of overstepping in the moment. but the next morning when u woke up in her arms she kissed your forehead and told you that if you ever felt like u wanted to harm yourself again you would let her know. that’s how you got into this situation. a couple months later and shit got tough. you don’t know how to cope with your emotions properly, turning to self harm as your source of comfort. you knew it was wrong, you knew you should have called her, talked about it, talked to her. maybe if you would’ve done that you wouldn’t have done it. maybe. so now here we are, with her head trailing in between your thighs. if she were to she the fresh marks how would she think of you then? As soon as she starts unbuttoning your pants your head starts spinning.

“fuck Ellie, Ellie, stop” you push her hands away, and turn to face the opposite direction to her.

“what, baby did I do something wrong?”

“no, no it’s jus-“ tears swell up in your eyes, your vision going blurry. your words choke up in your throat.

“baby are you okay?” She scoots closer to you slightly rubbing your back as you sobbed into your palm. she asks you what’s wrong and you can’t get words out.

“remember when we first got together? remember my scars? When you told me if I ever felt like I needed to hurt myself to talk to you?”

Ellie pauses, for a second before nodding.

“I didnt. I’m sorry.” you sob.

“oh baby.” she pulls you closer to her, hugging you tightly. you cry into her arms. she lays her head on you, rubbing small circles into your back.

“it’s okay love, your okay. Just don’t do it again baby. I can’t stand the thought of you causing harm to your skin baby.” she comforts you. you slur countless apologizes into her chest.

“it’s okay.” you and her stay like that for what feels like ages. just being in her arms. her holding you. it feels safe there.

Text CONNECT to 741741 for free, 24/7 help for self-harm

A/N: to anyone who relates or has gone through something like this I just want to say that I’m proud of you. It takes so much fuckin courage jst to not let go. your worth it. every day ur clean means something. self harm is a serious topic that’s highly frowned upon, but in reality everyone that has gone through thoughts of self harm or done it just need an outlet that can’t be found anywhere else. it’s a escaping mechanism for people who don’t have any other way to escape. but there are other ways to handle emotions, and harming your body should not be one of them. you are loved, and I’m proud of you loves.