#i can't do this anymore it's so hot i sweat so much i feel dizzy everyday and have a headache from the head

[officialkendallroy]

climate change STOP ITTTTTTT. Like for real STOP

#i can't do this anymore it's so hot i sweat so much i feel dizzy everyday and have a headache from the head #i feel nauseous the air in my room is so bad but i cant open the window bc it's one million degrees outside #KILLING MYSELF

[nanqmies]

Venom || Tsuchigomori

cw: cnc , biting, slight blood, predator/prey, aphrodisiac, bondage ?, manhadling, sadism, anal, masterbation, no prep or lube, hallucinations, overstim, manhandling, creampie, amab!reader, very short, i think that's all?

wc: 0.5k

a/n: i researched different spiders and their venom just for this and i hate spiders!! theres basically ZERO fics about my man so i need to fix that.. anyways i'm writing my pantalone fic and i'm finishing up a quick lil drabble for zhongli.. but please enjoy my work!~

nsfw under the cut~

Since Tsuchigomori is part spider we can assume he has spider-like tendencies too other than extra arms/teeth. Everyone knows how spiders catch their food, the insect gets trapped in the web and gets bitten and filled with venom. We don’t know what exact species Tsuchigomori is but I think he could be any different species if you write it correctly. The phoneutria spider has a hallucinogenic venom that slows their prey and causes them to hallucinate and sedate their movements, and we all know Tsuchigomori’s true nature is being very sadistic and teasing so I think that’d be a perfect spider for him.. listen…

Imagine Tsuchigomori sinking his sharp teeth into you and injecting a small amount of his venom into you, forcing you to run and escape from him, maybe in the woods or even in his huge library right, he gives you a head start to be just to make the chase more rewarding. your body is weak from the toxins in your bloodstream so you’re all dizzy and wobbly walking into walls and shelves of his boundary that he obviously knows like the back of his hand. he can hear how you pant as you run, sweat dripping down your brow while you sprint. The exit seems so close that you can feel it.. reaching out to the doorknob just for a sticky thread of web to wrap around your fingers, You’re pulling away trying to free yourself but of course, you don’t :( He knows you can barely think with the strong aphrodisiac flowing through you.

you’re stuck, tied up in a thick silk web not able to move yourself out, senses heightened at the lack of touch, your body covered in sweat. Tsuchigomori finally lining himself up at your rim, imagine him fucking you at a fast pace, the tip of his cock roughly hitting the sensitive spot inside, the harsh pleasure bringing tears to your eyes. His hand leading downwards to your abdomen to hold your throbbing length is his palm, stroking your dick to match his fast past. Sharply rutting his hips on your ass filling you with his thick sperm, your tummy feels full and warm, whining when he pulls out. tsuchigomori’s teeth sink into your shoulder, shuddering while you feel him inject you once again, the knot in your stomach finally bursting as you cum all over his thin fingers, cooing gently at the sight. ^^

he’ll keep fucking his seed into you filling your ass with his hot finish. slowly the toxins flowing through your veins are too much, you can barely move, barely able to run away til he just pins you to the hard floor and fucks you til you can't walk anymore, his name repeatedly leaving your lips. You’re too weak to push him off and you end up letting him have his fill with you until he feels you’ve taken enough.

the aftercare is amazing OBVIOUSLY!! he’ll hold your limp frame in his arms and kiss your cheek gently, whispering how good you were and that he’ll make it up to you tomorrow. For now, he’ll run you a warm bath and kiss every beautiful bruise he left on your skin, marks that show his love and adoration for you. Tsuchigomori certainly appreciates how much trust you have in him, allowing him to do such a scene that could end badly. He’ll end up putting you to bed, laying your head on his chest. He really couldn’t ask for more.

© nanqmies 2023

please do not translate, steal or repost my work.

reblogs and feedback appreciated!

#toilet bound hanako kun #08.30.23 #tsuchigomori #tsuchigomori x reader #male reader #nanqmies #tbhk #tbhk x reader #amab reader #nan8mies . req

[seishirokitten]

Nagi is the type of man to make you cry the first time be degrades you. His voice so cold and serious even as sweat drips down hair and forehead, always dragging out sex with you. Likes to see how many times he can get you to cream his cock. Likes when little tears cling to your long lashes.

But recently you've asked for more, for something a little different. To talk down to you while his necklace with the nickname he gave you swings in your face.

"So stupid for my cock aren't you? Just a dirty slut who wants to cum as many times as she can. Does it even matter if it's with me or not?" His hand comes to wrap around your throat as his speaks, squeezing as tightly as your cunt squeezes him.

His eyes hooded with his bored gaze, like he's bored with you and his words sting, his delivery cold and nonchalant as if nothing he ever said to you mattered.

It makes a sob rack through your body competing with a shudder of pleasure, fat thick tears slipping from your pretty eyes.

Tears much bigger than Nagi has ever seen and it has him coming closer, pressing his cheek against yours as his eyes glow like they do when he's hungry for more.

"You're crying because it's true." Dark velvet voice doesn't even pose it as a question, "I should give you to Reo he loves to play with pretty girl's pussies who are as slutty as you."

"N-not true." You say so small, so weakly and it has Nagi's cock jumping in your tight cunt that only gets tighter with his words. He's sure he's made you cum the first time he spoke down to you, you're shaking under him again. He's still got your throat, all his weight on his other arm. Coming away from you just enough so he can see your face contort when he speaks.

"Shut up." It's icy and sharp, "I don't want to hear you talk, I just want to hear you moan. Now be the greedy slut I know you are and cream on my cock."

Your back arches as your nails dig into the skin at his back, deep red lines following their wake as you shake beneath him. Coil in your stomach snapping again as you flutter around him involuntarily with a rasped scream of his name, the sound mostly trapped under Nagi's broad hand.

You squeeze him so tightly, look up at him with so much hurt in your eyes it makes him feel dizzy, crazed. Lower abdomen tightening in time with his sac as he feels you get impossibly wetter for him. Leaning down to lick at a stray tear and when he hears you whimper he can't hold back anymore.

"Fuck." Groaning in your ear before he gently bites at the juncture of your shoulder and throat. Painting your soft walls with white hot ropes. Thrusting slowly as often as he can until both of you are shaking from overstimulation before he collapses on top of you with a grunt. Pulling out slowly before pressing into you further.

"What a hassle my princes is." He says it with no real annoyance, softly even, as if he had said he loved you instead, before his voice gets deep.

That rare possession he gets when it comes to you, regarding you with the same want, desire and need to have you as an goal, win, or trophy. Filling him with an ambition that can only be awakened or provoked in the normally relaxed, bored gazed man. Especially as he remembers what he said, how tightly you squeezed him when he said he'd loan to you his best friend trying to remind you and himself exactly who you were.

"My princess. "

#nagi x reader #nagi thirst #nagi smut #nagi seishiro x reader #kitten writes 🖤🐈‍⬛ 🖋️

[pendarling]

Some Evil Things Whumper Could Be Doing + Descriptive Whump Language

Warning: I do NOT condone any acts of violence and such. These are all just for writing (Tumblr please don’t come after me😢🥺)

TW: Everything

Harsh cold breathing as Whumpee stands outside in the cold winter. The ice biting their bare feet deep in the snow as chilly winds blow their soaking body

Sneezing, sniffling, barfing and passing out after returning inside

Cutting hair and leaving uneven edges or pulling and tugging hair off. Whumper could also enforce some emotional damage by forcing Whumpee to cut off their own hair in front of a mirror.

"Fucking do it already!" "Please don't hurt me, I'll do it." "Cut it before I do!" "Okay, I will...-- I'm sorry-- I will..."

Keeping Whumpee awake all night by not interacting with them during the day but torturing them throughout the night. Whumpers who do this for about a week will have a Whumpee who refuses to sleep at night due to the fear of suddenly being jolted awake with new pain

Not letting Whumpee speak. Stuffing a cloth down Whumpee's mouth and reducing their language to just begging. That way once they appear in front of Caretaker they will be too afraid to speak or will have forgotten.

Purposely leaving wounds unattended after cutting up Whumpee's legs, thighs, hips, and hands and waiting for blood to dry, then cutting it again so it never heals.

Tightening ropes or chains around their wrists, ankles and torso enough to make it burn or dig into their skin, especially if the rope is made up of rougher materials

Feeding Whumpee nothing for days and then overwhelming them with so much food that they physically can't hold it down anymore

That dizzying feeling that leaves them sweating and anxious when Whumpee has not eaten or drank anything for so long that their mind is mentally congested

"Remember, your life, body, and thoughts are controlled by me, owned by me, and mine only. You don't have a world outside of this."

Reminding Whumpee every day that the search for them is slowly coming to a close and spreading lies that their friends and family have come to understand that Whumpee is dead

When Whumpee is so broken that they finally mindlessly agree to whatever Whumper instructs them to do

Whumpees that get slight Stockholm syndrome for their Whumper and fall into an obedient pattern with undeserved sympathy

Taking Whumpee outside after who knows how long behind closed doors. Then Whumper points out how literally not a single person knows who they are or are willing to report them

"Say it." "I'm a waste of space. Nobody wants me." "Was that so hard?"

Rewarding Whumpee after every time they've completed a chore or task with little torture or no torture at all. Alternatively, they can let Whumpee pick what they'll be dealing with for the day as a reward so at least they know they chose that option.

Hissing and crying when a hot piece of metal is slightly touching their skin. Or if you want to be extra evil: go ahead and rapidly run it up and down the forearm

When Whumpee eventually forgets their own name and history. They stopped crying a few weeks ago, they ask for permission to speak or go to the bathroom, eat, sleep, move etc...

"What do you say?" "Thank you, sir/ma'am." "You're learning well!"

Making Whumpee sit in their own dirt and blood as the pain of their wounds festering with sores, rashes and cavities builds up

When Whumper is taking Whumpee outside and before doing so, they hide their scars and bruises with makeup and clothing then practice their excuses if someone does suspect

~~~

MASTERLIST

#whump community #intimate whumper #writing prompt #writing help #writing advice #whumper #how to write #whump #whumpee #tw everything #caretaker #whump tropes #pet whump

[eggtartz]

✧ 2nd October ✧

Dabi // Burned (f! civilian reader)

kinktober masterlist

warning : toxic sex, unconsenting marking, branding, squirting, sadistic dabi, misuse of quirks

fire was a fascinating thing. a fire quirk however isn't too fascinating, especially if the user is a villain. a cruel one at that. so what was the villain doing to this innocent civilian who's quirk is basically useless?

"s-stay back! I will call the police!" you clutched your phone as the villain with burn marks pinned you againts the wall "c'mon darling, we had a great time before why won't we do it again?" he taunted, a sadistic smile on his lips as you basically quivered. "it was one time!" you said, not realizing the consequences of your reckless one night stand with him.

"c'mon. just one more night and we'll be done through" he purred, extending out his burnt hand. "one more night, darling" he said again, voice full of temptation and desire. you cursed yourself for being this immoral, laying and having casual sex with a villain but alas you took his hand.

"one night. just one" he smirked.

~♪

"h-hah.. dabi" his name fell from your lips like a neverending sinful prayer as he basically and figuratively blew your back with intensity that made you dizzy "yeah, that's right" he grabbed a fistful of your hair so your body would meet his "say my name, sweetheart" he whispered against your ear, keeping his cock warmly in your aching pussy

"say the name the one who's fucking you right" his tone was sadistic, mean but you loved it so much. drool covered your body, sweat accumulating at your sore breasts, "dabi" you moaned feverishly as you looked back at him with lustful eyes.

something snapped in him.

something carnal, animalistic took over the villain's body as he thrusted harder at a painful pace that made you gripped the sheets for stability. "hah..I s-so rough!" you whined but your quivering pussy was soaking his cock so deliciously that dabi wanted stay inside forever. "fuck.. i don't think i can ever let you go, sweetcheeks" he gave a smug smile as your cockdrunk mind got mushy.

the heat inside the room was humid as dabi tried controlling his quirk but your pussy clenching on him made him lose his goddamn mind. his hand slithered to your waist as the other stimulated your clit, tapping it with his thumb making you writh "s-sensitive!" you yelped but he smirked, rubbing it harder "oooh, i felt that clench. you gonna cum?" he purred. you nodded frantically as he smeared saliva on his patched hands and rubbed your clit with the extra moist, that felt so good you squirted.

dabi smirked and mounted over you "so sexy... all mine" he moaned into your ear, his hands leaving hand prints on your hips. the sight was an incredible turn on for him that he can't help but increase the tempature with his quirk. his eyes went down your sweaty body to your little cute squeaks when he thrusted harder. "dabi.. mmhot..!" you managed to speak although feeling hazy "i know. stay still for me" he whispered, groaning when he sees your hips meeting his thrusts.

dabi couldn't take it anymore.

in an instance, blue fire emitted from his hand while holding your hips as you screamed, trying to get away "n-no! too hot!" you sniffled, pawing his hand away. he smiled "it'll be over, trust me" he gurnted, chasing an orgasm as his hands branded your hip with raw fire making you cry in both agony and pleasure. dabi smirked, a hand print of his appeared as he came inside you and his quirk was turned off. you slumped againts the bed and panted while dabi tapped his cock on your back, spraying the last drops of his cum on your back and specifically on your hips that he has 'marked' you.

pushing a strand of hair away from your ear, he whispered "good job, sweet thing. you're all ruined for everyone else now" his sadistic tone was the last thing you heard as you feel asleep.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #my hero academia smut #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia fanfiction #mha dabi #my hero academia dabi #dabi smut #dabi x reader #bnha dabi #touya todoroki #mha touya #touya smut #dabi fanfic #kinktober entry ♡˖

[amostimprobabledream]

Ignite Me - (Homelander x Reader) Part Nine

Merry Xmas, ya filthy animals! Also available on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42771771/chapters/107448564

“This has to be a secret.”

You said to Homelander, when he finally let you go and you can breathe properly once again. You felt dizzy and not just because you were standing on top of a skyscraper. Your mouth burned from his lips on yours, like you’d been kissing a hot lamp.

“A secret?” he’d scoffed, with that imperious tilt of his head you’ve become very well acquainted with. “Why? Ashamed of me?”

“No, it’s not-“ you began, flustered, feeling a heat prickling across you, your armpits slightly damp from where you’d been sweating when Homelander first grabbed you and took off into the skies. You’re not even sure what building you’re on or how far away from home you were.

Homelander pointed a finger at you, practically wagging it in your face, and if you couldn’t detect the rising annoyance, it would almost be amusing, how expressive he was with his hands.

“Because y’know, missy, this pussying out of everything before you even get started is starting to get fucking old.” Homelander continued, his eyes boring into you like he could see right into your soul and found it lacking. “You’d think you wouldn’t just keep throwing away every chance handed to you. Do you have any idea-?“

"Will you let me speak?" you snapped at him, pulling yourself back out of his range and he allowed it, though perhaps he was simply too surprised to act immediately.

He glared at you, his lips pursing and for a second your heart seemed to pause, like it tripped for a second, but you didn't back down and something in his expression relaxed marginally. You sighed and hugged your body in a self-soothing gesture, taking a moment to construct what you want – need – to say.

"It was too much. Too fast. I was just thrown into the deep end, and I didn't know how to handle it. Being around you is like...it's like a rocket taking off and I can't do anything to stop it or control it. You've been working for Vought for years; you know how all of it works and you're told how things will go and probably get to rehearse. You know what to say and how to say it. I don't. All of this is new to me and it's not...it's not easy. I'm not saying it is for you, but at least you know what you're doing. You know the risks and you know how to handle them. So, if this is what you really want, then...we need to take things slowly."

Now Homelander frowned slightly, like that wasn't what he was expecting you to say at all.

"Go on." he said.

"I was thinking about what you said. Before." you want to say, 'when you showed me who you really are', but you had to keep it vague. "About what it's really like working for Vought. About how you have to go out and do those bullshit interviews, talk about things you can barely remember...and I was thinking about how exhausting all that sounds. How it changed things. Wasn't it better between us when Vought didn't get involved? When it didn't feel like you just wanted to keep your ratings high and you didn't think I wanted a paycheck?"

Homelander cocked his head and you could see him taking in your words, weighing them and sifting out what deeper meanings might lay behind them. It seemed he determined that there weren't any lies in what you're saying because he looked back at you, and he wasn’t pursing his lips anymore, which was a good sign. You're starting to get good at figuring out what his subtle facial expressions meant.

You risked it and placed a hand on his arm.

"Wouldn't it be nice if you had something that wasn't Vought's as well?"

Something in his gaze changed when you said that. He stared at you with almost a note of astonishment, before those piercing blue eyes softened marginally. He reached out, fingertips touching your cheek.

"What did you have in mind?" he asked.

Fast forward to now, and somehow, Homelander has agreed to coming here. For a date. With you.

Sometimes you're not sure you actually survived that shooting - you're convinced you're in some fucked up purgatory. Or maybe a coma dream. It would explain an awful lot of the sight of Homelander was the last thing you saw and imprinted on your mind somehow. No - this is a date with The Homelander. You need something stronger.

You go grab the bottle of tequila that's wedged between the fridge and microwave. Getting the lid off is tricky, it's sticky thanks to pouring it before when you were already drunk and your palm chafes against the plastic, but you manage. You don't have any limes, so you just throw it back straight, gagging. It burns your throat and threatens to come back up, so you chug some coke as well to balance out the taste. The bubbles fizzed down your throat, refreshingly cool.

Shit.

“What the fuck am I doing?” you ask your reflection. She doesn’t answer you and you sigh and stuff the tequila bottle away where you got it, lest you accidentally drink all that’s left in it.

The thud is unmistakable and you have to ready yourself before you turn around.

Homelander is standing there, cape billowing in the wind, holding something in one fist - an enormous bouquet of white roses. You couldn't be more surprised if he'd turned up holding a tiger shark.

He...brought you flowers?

You hurry over to the door and open it up – you haven’t gotten around to asking anybody to fix the lock yet, since you suspect that it would just get broken again.

“Hey there,” Homelander says brightly, handing over the bouquet, the wrapping paper crinkling. The scent of roses is almost overpowering, and you lean in to smell them – they’re so fresh it’s like they’ve been cut from a garden and brought right here.

"Hi, wow." you say, stunned – they’re enormous, probably about fifty bucks’ worth of roses. Or more, depending on where he got them from. "These are beautiful, thank you."

He looks pleased with himself, and steps over the threshold, hands behind his back.

“Come in, I’ll just put these in water.” You say, as you carry the roses over to the kitchen.

You don’t have any fancy vases, but you do find a suitably large glass that should fit them all in. You sprinkle a pinch of sugar into the water before you plop the roses in, shifting them about so all of the heads have their own space. Something about them immediately brightens up the room, the petals so white they remind you of snow.

"Why the sugar?" Homelander's voice comes from behind you, and you try not to jump.

"It helps them last longer." you explain, turning around to see his eyebrow quirk up.

"Huh. Well, aren't you just full of surprises?” he said.

“So are you.” You reply, with a little smile. “I didn’t think you were a flowers and chocolates kind of guy.”

“Well, it’s what you do on a date, isn’t it?” Homelander says with one of those megawatt TV smiles he sometimes does, and your eyes stray to his pointed incisors. He sweeps his gaze around the living room – you’d tried to tidy it up before he came, thinking that it’s probably a little annoying for someone with such heightened senses to be in messy spaces.

"No Vince today?" Homelander says, and it's amazing how much scorn he can pack into a single syllable word.

"Don't worry, he won't be back until tomorrow. I told him to fuck off, and off he fucked." you say casually, with a smile. "He's nice and low maintenance like that."

Vince had acquiesced to your instruction with total laissez faire, like his roomie having a date with the World's Greatest Superhero was just another Tuesday. Before he left, though, he'd helpfully informed you he'd rolled a couple of joints, and that they were in a box under his bed should you fancy indulging for some reason.

Honestly, you were tempted.

“So! I thought we could watch a movie.” You say brightly, keen not to linger on your roommate. You know Homelander doesn’t approve of you sharing a space with Vince – not that it’s any of his business – and though you’ve assured him nothing has or will ever happen with him, you don’t want to start the evening off on the wrong foot.

Homelander opens his mouth, closes it again, and then stares at you.

“What…here?” he says, gesturing around your apartment in apparent disbelief. You can’t help smirking a bit at his reaction. He can be such a snob, but you wouldn’t expect anything less from anybody who works for Vought.

“I know it’s no multiplex, state-of-the-art set up, but if we go out anywhere, we’ll get followed around by people with cameras.” You point out, adding quickly before he decides to point out that he can fly away from any paparazzi; “I bought snacks for the occasion and everything!”

He looks a little confused, but a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, almost despite himself.

“Snacks, huh?” he says and a knot in your stomach eases – you can tell by his tone he’s decided to humour you. “Well, can’t let those go to waste, now can we?”

“Exactly.” You say, then pause. “You don’t drink, right? What do you want to go with the popcorn?”

“Milk.” Homelander responds promptly, hands behind his back. “Please.”

You’re baffled but you’re not going to question his choice – if he wants milk, you don’t see why you shouldn’t give him some. And he did say please. You just hope he isn’t picky about what kind because you only have semi-skimmed. You take out a bag of popcorn and stick it in the microwave. You can feel him watching you and it makes you self-conscious, like you’re acting in a play for an audience of one.

“Why don’t you sit down and find something for us to watch?” you say, careful to phrase it so it isn’t an order. “I’ll just be a second.”

He eyes the carton of milk in your hand, but he nods agreeably enough and approaches the sofa, and you notice he twirls his cape up and out of the way before he sits down and you get a glimpse of his firm, toned ass as he does it. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling and pour the drinks, deciding not to pour yourself anything alcoholic, in the interest in trying to keep things running as smoothly as possible without having Homelander complaining about being able to smell it on your breath.

“Christ, how can you watch anything with a TV this small?” Homelander comments, though his tone is teasing rather than annoyed.

“It’s not small!” you protest, laughing a bit despite yourself. He’s so ridiculous sometimes. “It’s perfectly normal-sized, thank you. Anyway, there’s no way I’m buying a bigger one and trying to carry up all the stairs.”

The lift in your place does work, but it’s sometimes a little temperamental and you don’t really have the money to just go throwing around at a new TV whenever you want. You approach Homelander where he’s sprawled on the sofa, carrying the drinks in your hands and popcorn wedged in the crook of your elbow, when you spot what he has queued up on the TV.

“No, absolutely not, we’re not watching one of the Seven movies.” You roll your eyes - of course he was going to put something on starring himself.

“And why not?” Homelander protests, shooting you a raised eyebrow. “I do all my own stunts, you know. You think fucking Arnold Schwarzenegger or Bruce Willis can actually lift a truck over his head? Fuck no. I can.”

“Yes, but it kind of defeats the purpose of enjoying a movie if you’re going to sit there thinking about how you look onscreen and talking about what happened on set.” You point out, setting the drinks on the coffee table, along with a bowl of popcorn. “This is meant to be relaxing.”

You were going to sit down next to him, but apparently, Homelander had other ideas. No sooner had you gotten in range of him, he moved, so suddenly you didn't even have time to respond, and his hands fastened around your hips as he drew you down as nonchalantly as you'd pick up a cat. Next thing you know, you're perched on his lap, a startled look painted across your face.

Oh, okay.

"So, what were you thinking, since you've vetoed my suggestion?" Homelander says, flattening his palm on your breastbone and easing you back so you're no longer perched stiffly on his knee but instead you're now fully seated on his lap. It takes you a second to respond, too busy reeling over the fact that Homelander just casually pulled you onto his lap like it's no big deal and you just use the face of America as a chair all the damn time.

"Uh, maybe a... drama? Or a comedy, maybe?" you suggest, stumbling over your words, since he probably would find action movies boring - what can possibly happen in an action movie he doesn't do on a daily basis? "You pick one."

You hand him the remote and Homelander hums, beginning to flick through the menu - he seems less put out about watching one of the Seven movies shot down now that you've given him control over the final pick. To be honest, suddenly it doesn't seem that important - you hate yourself for thinking this and being such a slave to a little bit of physical contact, but it's the comfiest lap you've ever sat on. The padding of his suit means his thighs are nice and plush, but you can feel muscle underneath it too. And he smells nice – he probably has some specially-made cologne that normal plebians can’t buy. Plus, he's pleasantly warm and-

Oh god.

Yep. So that's...Homelander's dick. you think, stunned, as something nudges insistently against your ass. You're glad you're facing away from him, because you know you're blushing, and you know he knows you can feel it. Feel him. Fuck, he can probably hear your heartbeat increasing light the frightened thumping of a rabbit's, but you’d argue that it’s not really your fault because jesus christ, he's big. It's been a while since you've had a fuck, you can only imagine how much stretching-

Whoa there friend, you might need to slow down! You think, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, the little pinprick of pain to try and stabilise you and your wandering thoughts.

“Hm…are you wearing perfume?” you hear Homelander say, his voice becoming a velvety drawl, no doubt taking immense enjoyment at getting you flustered so easily.

His breath fans across your neck as he moves a little closer. His nose gently butts against the back of your head as he breaths in and a shiver crawls down the length of your spine. Somehow it feels wildly erotic to have him scenting your perfume, appreciating the way it smells as it lingers on your skin.

“Just a little bit.” you reply in an unfortunately breathy voice.

Actually, this is one of your favourite perfumes – you always think of sitting in a fancy French café with little cakes whenever you wear it, and your friends always ask you where you got it from. Homelander liking it too makes you feel light-headed, but in a good way. You’re stupidly pleased he likes your choice – that he approves of it.

“Smells good.” He all but purrs and oh, that’s not fair…

“Thank you.” You say, shivering as his teeth gently graze your neck.

It's not the first time he’s kissed you, but this is different. It’s not a frantic moment fuelled by panic in an emergency, it’s not a desperate kiss made in an attempt to communicate something words can’t say. No, this time, he’s doing it simply because he feels like it. His mouth is hot, and you can’t stop thinking about how those sharp canines of his are so close to you, he could break the skin with all the effort normal people use to tear paper. Yet he’s pressing hot, lazy kisses to your neck instead. You shift on his lap, the movie becoming nonsensical babbling in the background.

He doesn’t leave his hands idle, either. He can tell you’re enjoying the kissing, so he thinks nothing about sliding a hand around to your chest and taking a handful of your breasts. You gasp a bit with how nonchalantly he does it, but it’s hard to start any belated protesting now when it feels so good – even with the gloves on it feels nice, the friction of fabric sending glorious tingles rocketing across your skin. He slides his fingers between the cups of your bra to play with your nipple, rolling it between thumb and index finger. You let out a hiss of pleasure, the sensation of it blooming through your chest. Clearly, he’s no novice when it comes to some titty-fondling.

“Fuck…” you say in a whisper, but he can hear you just as well as if you were yelling it.

His fingers cup your jaw and gently, so gently – he turns your head so he can get at your mouth as well. The burning blue of his eyes is so fucking intense that it’s a relief to close your eyes and melt into the touch. When he’s like this, it’s easy to forget what he can really do, that he isn’t just a guy you’re kissing but a Supe. The Supe. The Strongest Man in the World. That he wants this, with you, is intoxicating. Like a potent shot of validation and lust straight to the vein.

His hand pops the fly on your jeans with no effort and the next moment his hand is creeping over your groin, index finger teasing at the entrance of your cunt. A breathy sigh leaves your mouth and suddenly you can't even absorb a single word of the movie.

"Homelander-"

"Mmhmm?" he hums, just the hint of a gravel in his voice, and he tilts his hips a bit, so his crotch rubs against your ass as the pad of his finger slides up and nudges against your clit. You'd think that the thickness of the gloves would be a hindrance in him even finding it, let alone it feeling any good when he- when he-

Oh, fuck.

His finger sinks deeper into you, and you can’t help it when you mewl in pleasure. Shit, this not what you had planned for tonight, there are still so many factors outside of your control to consider, but logic and reasoning have clearly left the building. Your stupid, primal brain likes the sensation and has no intention of letting you put the brakes on. You want this so much you feel like you’re burning up from the inside with it. You’ve wanted it for a long time, you think – you just didn’t want to let yourself give in to it.

"I think," Homelander mutters in your ear and you can feel the heat of his breath, the rumble in his throat hitting some primal part of your brain that makes you shiver. "We should take this to your room. Don't you?"

#The Boys (2019) #Homelander #Homelander x Reader #The Boys (2019) x Reader #fanfiction #Writings

[sunymar]

⟰ "the crinkle of blankets when being tucked in extra good" for Damen/Laurent, perhaps being tucked in with a bit of force when Laurent Does Not want to go to bed but really needs to do so?

hurt/comfort prompts - your ideas are always so delicious 🥹🥹❤️

The last thing Damen feels like doing at the moment is arguing with Laurent. Yet that's exactly what he finds himself doing all the way to their chambers, and what he finds himself doing now, as he struggles to hold Laurent down on the bed with a single hand on his thigh while he tries to pull each of his boots off with the other.

Laurent isn't making the task easy, just as he hadn't made it easy for Damen to drag him all the way here, despite of his weakened state. Maybe it wouldn't have been as challenging if Damen hadn't been too busy fretting over how much Laurent was struggling to breathe, but as things were, he hadn't had an option.

"You're only working yourself up," Damen chides, softly, once he's finally managed to get rid of Laurent's muddy riding boots. He replaces them with a pair of thick woolen socks. Laurent has finally gone still, but it's probably not going to last for long. "Save your breath. I don't want you to get a headache again."

Lauren'ts chest is heaving with effort, even though Damen carried him all the way here. All he's been doing is complain, call Damen names, and complain more; but that's been enough to wear out his poor lungs.

It's barely early autumn in Vere, but Paschal had been right: the evening air is already too cold for the king to ride in this condition.

"I don't even have a fever anymore," Laurent protests, though Damen begs to disagree, because Laurent's cheeks are ruddy, and he can't be sure yet if it's only due to the lack of breath. While Laurent may have woken up that morning without a temperature, that doesn't mean he can't have one now. "I was busy. I have already lost enough time in bed the past few days."

"Paschal said you'd still need bed rest for a couple of days after your fever went away. You pushed yourself too hard today," Damen says, cautiously, "and I'm pretty sure you'll have to stay here for a bit longer than initially intended because of that."

That's very clearly not what Laurent wants to hear. He tries to get on his feet, but a small, gentle push from Damen is enough to make him lose his balance and fall back on the mattress. He's dizzy, Damen knows. A lack of air will do that to you. And Laurent has clearly already ran out of his.

Damen climbs onto the bed to take a closer look at Laurent's lips, to make sure they're still pink and not blue, and the sight of his closed eyes and his parted lips makes his heart ache. There's small droplets of sweat trailing down Laurent's face, and he's panting like he felt very hot, but he's shivering.

Damen brushes the sweat off with his thumbs and confirms his suspicions: Laurent's skin is warm again.

"Just go to sleep," he begs. "Please. You're clearly tired."

He lifts Laurent's legs onto the bed and starts tucking him in, taking advantage of this small moment of weakness, while Laurent tries very hard to catch his breath. Laurent squirms a little when Damen covers him with the blanket, but it takes him nowhere.

Damen is about to pull the quilt over him when Laurent tries to push himself up on his elbows, his breath whistling with effort. Damen's hands move on their own, one pushes Laurent down firmly and rolls him onto his side, the other comes down sharply against his backside.

Laurent starts. Damen's palm barely made any sound, cushioned both by the blanket and Laurent's pants, but it obviously still caused an impression, because Laurent tries to reach back to place a hand over the affected site. Damen grabs his wrist before he can and nudges him onto his back again, smiling at the small glare directed his way.

"Let it sting. It'll hopefully remind you to behave yourself."

Laurent blushes, his brow furrowing in offense, but Damen doesn't give him the chance to complain before wrapping him tightly in the quilt as well, hoping its weight and warmth will help keeping him there.

#captive prince #prompt #damen x laurent #laurent of vere #damen of akielos

[lolly-dolli]

I was a little four-year-old kid in my dad's old car with the crank-windows and no AC, on my way back from one grandma's house to the other during the summer that we were between houses and he'd play Bat Outta Hell || and the "Wasted Youth" monologue would come on about halfway through and it used to scare the shit out of me but I'd just sit there, like, enthralled by some emotion I didn't know yet.

But as an adult in my mid twenties I can listen to people making guitars sound like motorcycles ripping through Hell or human screams or Miku or any number of things that sound almost supernatural when juxtaposed against the instrument that produced them and I just Get It.

And I'm baking a cake here, not quite seven-into-July, far too hot for my liking and sweet flinging off me as I dance around the kitchen to "Everything Louder than Everything Else," and "I'd Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That)" and all the other songs on the album I knew the melodies to but not the names for until a few years back. My father's cropped his hair short for the past ten or so years and mine, up in a bun because lord knows my I'm sticky with sweat as it is, falls past where his used to if it's let loose. My stepmother stops by with her friend to paint the walls upstairs eggshell-white and I regret not taking him up on his offer to put the AC into the living room (the sills are still not-yet-eggshell cream and need sanding) and in two weeks' time I'll be at my grandmother's, a half-summer this time, spent searching for jobs and making the room my parents stayed in my-own-for-a-bit between houses and learning Fusion 360 instead of petting bees and gorging on wild raspberries but still spinning around in flowery dresses to Meatloaf until I get dizzy when I find the time.

My father can't speak so clearly sometimes anymore - the stroke last year took part of his speech and he's still relearning words that aren't curses, but his hands are sketching again and his paintings will decorate my room when I leave and he still sings "Everything Louder than Everything Else" just as clear as ever (slightly slurred where he forgets the words, just like we all do) and despite the fear I'm moving forward and we're both still alive and I can listen to Meatloaf and tear up at the fact that I'm twenty-six when I couldn't see past twenty-five or twenty-two or next month five years and four years and ten-months-ago when the stroke happened.

Despite it all I feel more like myself than I have in maybe seventeen years, late-youth lost to the too-much-lexapro I shouldn't have been prescribed and wasted in bed. Slowly, surely, I'm waking up to the magic of guitar shreds that sound like hellfire in the best way and carrot cake when it's too hot to move and lost-boy-summers at my grandma's and the world being full of light I haven't seen since four-or-five-or-six.

Life isn't perfect, but I'm still alive to see it, and I'm thankful to live in a world where I can Feel music.

#lolly's writing #poetry #(i guess) #you ever listen to childhood music and weep at its sound after a long time in the dark? you should try it it's a good feeling #writing #my art #this started as a shitpost in my head but I Felt Too Hard so there ya go #more a feeling and strewam of consciousness than anything but it Felt Good. i'm gonna go frost thwt cake it's probably cool by now

[kitsunes-multiverse]

Sweet Symptoms

Chapter 19: Not So Sweet Symptoms

A few nights had passed since Kitsune and Jesse arrived... And quite frankly, Jesse wasn't doing all that well.

He was sitting at the small table on a laptop, searching for houses. Him and Kitsune pulled together a decent amount of money together, but so far none of the houses seemed good enough. They were either too expensive or too rundown. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Kitsune was out getting dinner, so it was just him and Boo in the motel room. The small kitten was just playing with one of his toys, eventually picking up on Jesse's stress. He walked over to the man, putting his two front paws on his leg as he let out a trill.

Jesse sighed once more, leaning over and picking him up. "I'm fine, Boo. I'm just stressed..." He stated.

"I can't believe Kitsune and I are in this mess.." He huffed. "I wish things could just- be normal. Then I wouldn't have the blood of god knows how many people on my hands.." He shuddered, hating the memory more than anything right now.

The blood staining the walls. The screams of pain as he killed them, one by one. The hot, boiling anger that surged through his veins as he committed the crime- Kitsune basically passed out in his arms. Did she even remember the full act? He wasn't even certain- she seemed rather out of it.

If she did remember... Would she still want to be around him?

Jesse shook his head, forcing the thought away. No, no, that's ridiculous. She wouldn't just abandon him after that. She said it herself- they were in this together. She's expressed gratitude for him saving her numerous times, and she's been doing everything she can to help him in these tough times.

Of course though, he didn't bother her about his night terrors and episodes of sleep paralysis. They've been rather frequent- so much so that he can hardly differentiate the difference between them anymore. They'd always consist of the pained and enraged screams of his seemingly countless victims. Needless to say, he wasn't getting much sleep as of late.

As he continued thinking about all of these events, he suddenly felt... Off. The more his hidden regrets came rising back into his head, the more uncomfortable he grew. His heart raced faster and faster. His shaking hands gripped onto the table. He felt cold, yet sweat still dripped down his face. He took small gasps for breath, as though he couldn't breathe properly.

Was this... a panic attack?

He felt somewhat dizzy by the overwhelming feeling, feeling nauseous and confused, yet also really scared. Terrified, even. He shakily got out of the chair, gripping the top of his shirt. He had never had a panic attack before- he wasn't sure what to do. He needed something to ground him, but Kitsune wasn't here. And as attached to Boo as he was, he doubted the small kitten would be much help.

He sat down on the bed, panting and taking shaking breaths every so often. He felt alone. Isolated. Powerless. He curled up, as though trying to hide from the world.

Before long, the door opened- Kitsune walking in with a plastic bag on her arm. "Heyyy, I'm back with Chinese food. Sorry I took so long, the line was a fuckin' nightmare-" She looked at her boyfriend, gasping as she saw his poor state. "Oh my god, Jesse!!"

She slammed the food down on the table, quickly sitting beside Jesse as she placed a hand on his back. "Hey, hey.." She softly spoke up, prompting Jesse to gasp. "It's ok, I'm right here... You're safe..." She soothed, reaching her arm up slightly and hugging him. "You're gonna be ok, I've got you... Take a deep breath.."

Jesse clung onto her, shaking like a leaf in the wind. He tried to control his breathing, but it was somewhat difficult. His chest hurt. It was like his heart was trying to kill him. "It- It hurts.." He mumbled. "I can- I can still hear them!! Every night, I can- they're in my dreams!" He stuttered, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Oh, Jess..." Kitsune rubbed his back. "I'm so sorry, I had no idea..." She frowned a bit, her partner letting out a distraught cry as he buried into her. She'd seen him cry before, but never like this.

"Breathe for me, ok? Please, you're going to pass out.." She gripped his quivering hand, rubbing his knuckles with her thumb. "I'm right here with you- we're gonna get through this. I promise."

It took a few minutes, but Jesse had managed to calm down. He slumped against Kitsune, wrapping his arms around her. "I... I'm sorry... I know you came back with food, but I... I don't have an appetite right now..." He apologized.

"It's alright, Jess... We'll eat em for breakfast tomorrow. They're better as leftovers anyway." Kitsune reassured, kissing his head. "Feel better?"

"A little..." Jesse responded, flopping back onto the bed with a sigh. "I'm tired..." He muttered.

Kitsune chuckled a little, standing from the bed and grabbing the bag of food. "I know you are, sweetheart." She responded, putting the food away. Jesse's face went slightly red at hearing the pet name. He didn't mind it, but it still caught him off guard.

The young woman returned, laying down beside him as she turned the light off. She smiled, nestling into his chest. "Let's go to sleep, yeah?"

Jesse nodded, holding onto her. His heartbeat slowed a little, feeling much more at ease. He yawned, running his hand through Kitsune's silky red hair. "I love you.." Was all he said.

The redhead giggled slightly. "I love you too, Jess... Sleep well.." She responded. Jesse smiled finally, closing his eyes.

It may take them a minute to get back on their feet, but they'd get there eventually. They were sure of it.

(Tag list: @arc-carnes @drsweetnana @tessathepeanut @sarahthebookdragon )

[darthhope999]

I am only making this so I can keep track of which ones I have already written for. If you want to re-blog please re-blog the original by @anonyony1 here

Feel free to send me a number!

1. "I don't know what the hell is wrong with me... I was fine this morning."

2. "Leave me alone."

3. "Don't touch me again unless you want me to puke on you."

4. "Can you shut up? My head is killing me."

5. "I told you I didn't feel good, and you made me come here anyway."

6. "This is ridiculous, how are you not sick and I am?"

Sad Sickies:

7. "Please don't leave me in here alone."

8. "It hurts so bad... please make it stop."

9. "I think I need to throw up..

10. "Is there any Pepto left?"

11. "Can you just sit with me until it's over?"

12. "My stomach really hurts, I don't think I can make it tonight.."

In-Denial Sickies:

13. "I don't get sick."

14. "I have a stomach of steel."

15. "It's not a fever, l've been in the sun.."

16. "I'm not going to throw up, for the last time."

17. "I don't think it's food poisoning. We ate the same thing, and I don't feel bad at all."

18. "It's just allergies."

19. "I don't get sick on rides/in the car/on boats (specify)"

Tactile Sickies:

20. "Will you rub my back?"

21. "Can you feel my head to see if I have a fever?"

22. "Will you play with my hair?"

23. "I'm freezin', can we cuddle?"

Don't Touch Me Sickies

24. "Don't touch my stomach right now."

25 "Please stop touching me... I'm so gross."

26. "You're making me hot, I can't sleep..."

27. "Your hands are freezing, don't touch me."

Queasy Sickies

28. "I don't know what I was thinking... I shouldn't have ordered that."

29. "Um... I think I need a bin."

30. "I think l'm going to be sick soon."

31. "Something's messing with my stomach."

32. "My stomach's bothering me."

33. "I don't feel so hot."

34. "Ugh, I think I should probably get to a bathroom."

Sniffly Sickies

35. "Can we get actual tissues instead of these paper towels? My nose hurts."

36. "I can't breathe."

37. "I'm freezing and sweating at the same time...

38. "Please don't look at me."

39. "My head's killing me..

40. "My throat hurts so bad I can't even drink water."

41. "Do you have a cough drop?"

My Fav Drunk Sickies

42. "Um, I think... I think I had too much."

43. "What was in that? I don't feel great.."

44. " think I need'ta sit "

45. "I need to get out of here, l'm gonna throw up."

46. "I just need to eat something and I'lI be ok."

47. "It's not fun anymore, l'm dizzy...

Caretakers!

48. "Just relax, you're going to be fine...

49. "Calm down, you're going to make it worse."

50. "Well, just take care of yourself then, if you don't want me touching you."

51. "Do you think you can stomach some water?"

52. "We need to get this fever down."

53. "Do you want me to rub your back/stomach?"

54. "Don't cry. Where do you hurt?"

55. "Keep your head in the trashcan until you're done."

56. "If you don't stop soon, we're going to the ER."

#NOT MINE #ask me about my ocs #open to requests #ask game #do not reblog

[justasecretwriter]

The Short Straw (Bucky x Y/N)

Title | The Short Straw

Summary | Bucky drinks an unknown substance which turns out to be sex pollen. The only problem is its strong enough to bring out the Winter Soldier, and he's got his eyes trained on Y/N.

Pairings | Bucky x Y/N, Winter Soldier x Y/N

Story Warnings/Tags | Cursing, Bullying (maybe), Verbal Fighting, Sex, Dubious Consent, Non-Consent (maybe), brain washing, the Winter Soldier

Author's Note | If you are sensitive to non-con, dub-con, or violence, please skip this story. If you're not, please enjoy, you filthy whore ;)

Also, sorry for so much Russian, I got carried away.

Words | 1,946

This was a bad idea. This was such a bad idea.

After we'd found some unknown substances at a Hydra base, we'd been able to identify all but one of them. This one was a bright red, glittering dust. Sealed in a box with the words DO NOT OPEN on the front, it was a bad idea.

Tony's brilliant idea was that the only way to identify it was to open it. So, we were pulling straws for who got to be the lucky bastard. And as we all looked around, we realized Bucky was staring down at a short red straw. The shortest straw.

"No. Nope. Not a chance." Steve announced loudly, taking the straw away from him. "I'll do it."

"Nope," Tony said. "He pulled the short straw. He's gotta do it."

"What if it brings out the Winter Soldier, Tony? What then, huh?" Steve yelled angrily.

"He'll be contained anyway, so what's it matter?"

"What's it matter? Are you seriously that cruel?!" Steve shouted, and I started trying to help Nat get between them before it became physical.

"Boys! Boys!" Nat yelled, to no avail.

"He's a big boy, Steve. He doesn't need you to make decisions for him anymore."

"I volunteered, Tony, so what's the big deal?"

"You don't always get to play the hero, dumbass!" He screamed, and we finally got them apart.

"Quit it!" I cried. "You're acting like children."

"Where's Bucky?" Steve said suddenly, worry laced with his tongue as he spun around. We all looked around and gasped when we saw he was in the lab, already holding the container of neon red dust.

"Bucky, no!" Steve ran towards the lab doors, but he'd already locked them from the inside. Steve pounded on the door. "Bucky, stop!"

He opened the container, and everyone was quiet.

The dust bounded into the air quickly, surrounding Bucky's head, making him cough and swat at it wildly. Steve was still trying to get the door opened, and now, as Bucky was choking on the dust, I was pounding on it too.

It couldn't hurt Bucky. Not our Bucky.

And then the dust went away, and Bucky coughed a few more times before he seemed all right. Shaken up, but all right. He went to the fridge and drank some water before sitting down.

He looked at us and gave us a thumbs up.

"I feel fine." He said through the microphone on the wall, walking over to the door. "A little dizzy, but fine."

We all watched him as he walked around, fiddling with things to keep himself occupied, but he was right. He seemed fine. After a while, he took off his jacket.

The next to go was his boots. He also seemed to be drinking more water, making us tilt our heads.

"You all right, Buck?" I asked.

He nodded. "Just a little hot."

Tony walked over to a small panel on the wall, and his brows creased. "It's seventy-two in there pal, you should be cool as a cucumber."

Bucky fanned himself, pulling his hair up into a bun and wiping sweat off his forehead. He sat down, and we all watched.

Fuck, he was drenched in sweat.

"Yeah, I um, I don't feel so good, guys." He murmured as his eyes clouded over, and he grabbed the counter before hitting the floor.

I perked up quickly, trying again to get the door open.

"Bucky? Bucky!" I looked at the passcode panel. "Jarvis, let me in."

"I cannot do that, Ms. Y/L/N. He has entered the red code."

"Tony, what's the red code?" I asked as he cursed.

"It's the code we have for the building in case there's ever a chance of the Winter Soldier. If he's locked the lab down with that, we can't get in. And Jarvis can't override it."

"Well, we have to get in there. What if Bucky's hurt?!" I yelled, and then I heard Bucky groan and whipped around.

He was standing up slowly. Once he got to his feet, I gasped, recognizing the stance he took and the way his eyes darted around the room.

The Winter Soldier.

"No," Nat gasped.

"Bucky," I said into the intercom, and his eyes immediately looked to us. He took a defensive position, and I held out my hands. "It's okay, Bucky."

"Я не знаю Баки. (I don't know Bucky.)"

I took a deep breath, trying to think about how to get him back. I turned to Steve, knowing he wouldn't be happy with me after the stunt I had in mind.

"Trust me."

He immediately looked wary.

"What are you going to do?"

I turned back to Bucky.

"Тоска, ржавчина, печь, рассвет, семнадцать, доброкачественная, девятая, возвращение домой, одна, грузовой автомобиль."

(Those are the Winter Soldier's trigger words.)

Everyone around me gasped as Bucky's head bowed and his entire body relaxed.

"Я готов отвечить. (Ready to comply.)"

"I don't think the pollen is solely to bring him back to the Soldier," I said to Steve. "Or it would have been faster. I think it's for something else, but it also triggers the Soldier."

"So, we have to find out what it is," Tony murmured, and I nodded.

"Get back," I said to them, and thankfully for once, they listened.

"Впусти меня, солдат. (Let me in, Soldier.)"

"Y/N, no!" Nat said, but I pushed her back as Bucky punched in the code and allowed me in. He shut the door and put the code back in.

I gulped, almost scared to turn around and face him, though I knew he wouldn't hurt me since he was in command of me.

"Скажи мне, что ты чувствуешь. (Tell me what you feel.)"

"Головокружение, лихорадка, учащенное сердцебиение, сексуальные расстройства. (Dizziness, fever, heart palpitations, sexual frustration.)"

I raised a brow.

I heard Natasha translating for the rest of the team, and I turned around.

"Sex pollen?" Tony asked.

"Possibly."

"Y/N, if that's the case, you have like ten minutes to get out of there," Bruce announced. "Before it fully sets in."

"Well, that depends," Tony said. "Most sex pollen only makes them want the one they love."

"She still has to get out," Steve announced, making my eyes go wide. "He's been in love with you forever."

"Fuck." Bruce cursed. "Get out of there, Y/N."

"No. I can't just leave him in here, not like this."

Suddenly, Bucky sat down, and that's when I knew he was in pain. He wouldn't have moved without a command. He was sweating again too.

"солдат? (Soldier?)" He looked up. "насколько все плохо? (How bad is it?)"

"тебе лучше уйти. (I think you should leave.)"

I shook my head.

"Мне нужен Баки обратно. (I need Bucky back.)"

He shook his head no.

He squirmed for a long time, pulling at his pants, and doubling over in pain. Bruce reminded me that once the serum took control, I wouldn't be able to stop him.

I sat in the corner and waited, dismissing the others. They left unwillingly, and I faced Bucky in the cold silence by myself.

"Я не буду осуждать тебя, ты же знаешь. (I won't judge you; you know.)"

He looked at me, holding his crouch tightly.

"И если нужно потрогать, я не буду смотреть. (And if you need to touch, I won't look.)"

"Вы должны уйти, пока у вас есть шанс. (You should leave while you've got a chance.)"

I shook my head and stood, coming close to him. He leaned away from me, whining, but let me touch his hair.

"солдат. (Soldier.) Позвольте мне позаботиться о вас. (Let me take care of you.)"

He didn't say anything but looked hesitant as I reached for his hands. He let me pull them away, revealing the painfully hard outline in his pants.

I looked at his face and started reaching for the buttons of his pants, but he stopped me and stood up and reached for the buttons of my shirt.

He began undoing them and pealed it off my shoulders, ever so gently, his face calm, almost bored, but his eyes ablaze.

He gulped as he stared at my cleavage, and I reached behind me to unclasp my bra. He made a throaty noise when it hit the floor. This time he didn't stop me when I pulled his shirt off.

His bare chest was beautiful, it always had been, but now it glistened with sweat. I ran my fingers down in between his abs and grinned when he shivered.

Glimpsing up at his face, he had his eyes closed and was nearly panting.

I kissed him, taking him by surprise, and wrapped my arms around his neck to grab his hair.

He moaned and was no longer that gentle giant he was just moments before. He grabbed my hips with bruise-inducing strength and hauled me onto the lab counter, pushing files and beakers to the floor, only smiling when they burst.

His fingers were quick to rip my pants off my hips, pulling the underwear with them in one rough motion.

He growled and started kissing my neck, biting along the way as he unbuttoned his pants and pulled his cock out.

He spread my legs fast. Thankfully, I was already wet from how rough he was with me because he wasted no time plunging himself into me. Making me scream his name into the air for all the tower to hear; my legs shook. Hopefully, they wouldn't think he was hurting me, because truthfully, I'd never felt more on cloud nine.

His hands gripped my hips, and I clawed into his back. I felt the blood underneath my fingertips but couldn't help it.

The way his dick felt inside of me was like nothing I'd ever felt before.

He growled into my ears, and it went straight to my pussy, making me clench around him, leading to more groans.

I bit into his shoulder to keep from screaming out again. It was no use. When I wrapped my legs around his waist, I was right back to shouting his name. The new position led to his tip hitting my cervix and his groin pressing against my clit, forming some holy trinity of pleasure.

"Harder!" I screamed, and he rammed into me, making my legs shake.

"Я рядом, красавица. (I'm close, beautiful.)"

I moaned and squeezed tighter, feeling that coil in my belly react to his words. I tried to hold it so that we could cum together, but when his thrusts became uncontrolled, the orgasm washed over me like holy water.

I shook and screamed, feeling like I was floating. Feeling the cum inside me, that was just the cherry on top of it all.

We lay there panting for a few minutes, and when I looked at his face, I realized the Soldier was gone, and I was holding onto Bucky.

"Buck?"

"Yeah, it's me, doll."

He laid his forehead in the crook of my neck, and I smiled, hugging him tightly. I felt him grin.

"I love you, doll."

"I love you too, Buck."

#bucky x y/n #bucy barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #bucky #the winter solider #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #dubcon/noncon #cw dubcon #sex pollen

[nakedmossy]

Cruel Summer - Part 1 [JJ x Reader]

[A/N: Hi again. I've missed you. It was time for something new. I found this story in a dream. Prepare for a mental trip, it's indicative of the year i've had. This is gonna go in a million different directions and I can't say i'm surprised. Ive written two chapters and i'm already like ...well, fuck it i'm posting it...I needed to get back into writing and this is what I got so enjoy. I have a playlist I used while writing, comment if you want it shared. As always, not that any of us need the reminder....but there will be adult content (whatever that means) and language and NSFW content so...keep me off your screen at the dinner table. Love y'all ...Mossy x]

You ease your car into park, your hand resting on the gear shift, the tires slowly rocking back and forth on the soft ground as the engine dies. Sunlight streams through your windshield as a cloud of dust and sand settles around the car, and you feel a trapped breath release from deep in your chest. The quiet, melodic hum of music relaxes your shoulders and through the trees you can see the water rhythmically hitting the shore.

You haven’t been here in a few weeks and you're starting to feel it; the tight and uncomfortable tensing in your muscles, the locked jaw, the flat expressions. The closer it gets to the anniversary the more you feel the need to visit. But the frequency of your visits is dictated by Her, and She keeps tabs on your whereabouts a lot these days. ‘Its not healthy to spend so much time there’ She would say to you, while pulling a Valium out of her bag to slide towards you. She has your therapist on speed dial on the landline. And she blames you for living in the past. Ironic.

You pull your keys out of the ignition, unbuckle your seatbelt, and let your muscle memory guide you out of the car and through the trees to the edge of the embankment where the sand and the sea grass take over. Flashes of Lacey running down the beach in front of you, looking back over her shoulder and laughing, are burned into your eyelids when you blink. She was everywhere here, every corner of this beach belonged to her. Her towel spread out on the sand at your feet, books with water damaged pages scattered across it, her bag tossed lazily to the side. Her board perched against the log you used to dry out your wetsuits. Her camera.

You close your eyes and listen to the wind move through the grass, her laugh echoing off the rocks. Come on! She would laugh with an outstretched arm. Come take a picture with me.

Her lips were supple and her nose was sun kissed, her hair bleached and tousled from the saltwater. She would motion for you to come over and you would go, because you always did, to fit into the frame next to her, cramming yourself in wherever you could after she found her best angle. She would hold up the camera and wrap her arm around you tightly, the smell of her tanning oil and sweat floating around you in a heady cloud, and at the last moment she would press her lips to your cheek and whisper cheese.

You blink and look at the water again, a seagull squawking as it flies over the empty beach. Reaching into your jeans pocket and feeling for the photo, you pull it out and look down, the moment she clicked the button frozen in time on the paper in your hand. Her side profile was radiant, the wind blowing her hair around her lips which were pressed to your face, you looked straight at the camera with a shy smile, a hidden smile, a quiet smile. An honest smile.

You run your thumb across the picture reflexively before sighing and putting the picture back in your pocket, it was one of the last photos you had together and it was one of the only ones you could clearly make out your own face. That always bothered you. Now you’ll never forget how happy we were today. I love you. She shook the polaroid until it was developed, then pressed it into your chest and winked, waiting for you to grab ahold of it, before turning on her heal and running towards the water.

Your chest burns for a moment before you straighten up and set your jaw. You feel good today, closer to her than usual. Today might be the day. You follow the path through the dunes towards the water and concentrate on the tide, watching the foam and the water snake along the shoreline. It’s windy, but not as windy as it usually is this time of day. The sky, clear and clean of any clouds, is the colour of blue that reminds you what happiness is. Or was, you know, before all the shit happened. When life was something you had the ability to process, sometimes even enjoy.

Now or never. Your head whips up at the sound of her voice and you see her, standing in the water. You feel the blood rush to your face, your core warming. There she is, running a hand up her stomach towards her chest and smiling at you, the kind of smile that would get good people into bad situations.

Slowly you slide your sneakers off and kick them aside, wiggling the sand between your toes. You’re not wearing a bikini but the beach is empty, so you close your eyes and listen to Lacey laughing from the water, come on scaredy cat, nobodies looking, as you peel your top off and drop it into the sand beside your shoes. You unbutton your shorts next and let them slide down your legs, stepping out of them hesitantly.

Lacey walks out of the water, so you keep your eyes closed, knowing if you open them she will be gone, and you wait for her to bite her lip and smile at you. There. Look at your body. You’re beautiful. Come on. She guides you towards the water with nothing but her own bare skin and confidence, nothing could ever touch her. You know its only a few steps until your feet are in the water, you should open your eyes and look around to make sure nobody is watching, but you don’t get to see her often anymore between the Valium and the other stuff, so you forgo it for a few more seconds. Today is the day, you have to do it. Time is running out. She’s all but told you as much.

“I miss you” You say, but your voice sounds foreign and it breaks and scatters into the wind.

Im right here. Lacey smiles at you like she always did, her crooked dimpled grin, her perfectly straight white teeth, her eyes shining. Now shut up and get in the water.

You feel the warm dry sand turn to wet firm sand beneath your feet, you know you’re close. It’s ours, all of it. The water. Just let go and let the Ocean carry you. You’re weightless. Isn’t it perfect?

Your breathing is shallow and your palms are clammy. There’s a tingling sensation in your thighs and you feel dizzy. You have to open your eyes. No, don’t. Not yet. Stay with me.

The water touches your toes and your eyes shoot open, you recoil and lose your footing, falling backwards. You crab crawl away from the water until the tide retreats and you feel your vision tunnelling as Lacey fades into the sunbeam above the water.

You scramble back to your clothes and pull your shorts above your sand stained underwear, your shirt smoothing your hair down as it settles back over your shoulders. You take a few deep breaths until your heart rate slows down. A tear springs up and sits in your eye for a few moments before falling and drying on your cheek. The beach is the best place to cry. The ocean is loud so nobody hears you, and the sun is hot so the tears dry fast.

You don’t want to turn around and look back at the water, you know she won’t be there. You’re alone, properly alone, just like she said you would be, psychic bitch. If she hadn’t been so charismatic and beautiful and conveniently wealthy, people would have outcasted her for being a freak a long time ago. What with all the tealeaves and palm readings and ‘gut feelings’. But they never did, her family had more money than the Kennedys and she looked like she walked runways for fun on the weekends, so she was untouchable. Your stomach starts to turn as you think about it so you blink the ground in front of you back into focus and start walking.

You have a few minutes of freedom left before She starts calling and asking where you are, so you walk slow to savour it. Who knows when you would be allowed out long enough again to go back.

You emerge from the tree cover into the parking area, pondering how many different routes you can take to get home to elongate the drive, when you hear a car door close. You look up, pulled from your thoughts, and squint to see through the bright sun.

“‘Scuse me!” A voice says, deep and friendly. A silhouette is moving towards you, so you bring your hand up to block the sun from your eyes. “Hey, sorry, do you live around here?”

You blink a few times as the silhouette gets closer and make out the figure of a tall man with wispy hair and baggy shorts.

“Sorry?” You reply, still trying to get a clear image.

“Im just trying to find the Marina but I have taken at least 5 of these side roads and all I keep finding is empty damn parking lots.” The man stops a few feet from you, close enough that you can make out a tan face with a toothy grin, and blonde hair. “First one with a pretty girl though, so I must be going the right way.” He smiles at you confidently, shielding his own eyes from the sun, but still squinting.

You look back over your shoulder to the beach, confirming Lacey is gone. You turn and look at the man who is watching you intently, hopefully, and smile quietly.

“Yeah, it’s uh…its just back on the main road, go 3 clicks south and take a right at the fork. You’ll see a fancy sign for a beach club, it’s just past that.” You look past him to the old Ford truck with rusted wheel wells and smile to yourself. “Assuming you’re not going to the beach club.”

The man laughs and smiles, looking over your shoulder at the beach before his eyes settle back on you. “Nope. Never been to one of those…legally.” He winks and backs up a few steps, then nods and says “Thanks” before turning and walking back towards his truck. He slows as he reaches it and stops, then turns back and pivots before jogging back to you.

You wait and watch, curious. He stops a few steps away and stretches out his hand.

“Sorry. That was rude of me. Im JJ.”

#jj maybank #jj x reader #rudy pankow #obx fanfiction #obxedit #nakedmossywrites #cruel summer

[lilacyennefer]

Just Can't Get Enough

Anon asked: hello! i’m a huge fan of your writing and i was wondering if you could write another dirty king arthur fanfic please??💖

A/N: Thank you so so much! I had a lot of fun writing this so I hope you guys like it! Feedback is always appreciated. 

TW:SMUT, language

“Art?” You call for Arthur when you step into the chambers that you share with him. It’s been a year since he defeated Vortigern and became a King, and it’s been 8 months since the two of you got married. 

Your story with Arthur started way before he pulled the sword out of the stone, you met with him when you were teenagers. You started out as friends, but eventually the two of you fell in love. So here you are now, being Arthur’s wife and his Queen, and the Queen of England. 

“I’m here.” He walks out of the bathroom area of your chambers and you smile when you see him, immediately running towards him. Arthur smiles at the view of you running towards him, he spreads his arms as you crush against his strong body in a hug. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to himself as he hides his face in the crook of your neck, smiling. You're together for many years now,  and your love and passion for each other only got deeper and deeper, and it wasn’t fading as people told you it would. 

“I’ve been looking for you.” You look up at him, still smiling.

“Well, I’m here now.” He whispers. 

“Yes, yes you are.” You brush your nose against his, both of you are still smiling at each other. 

“Why were you looking for me?” Arthur asks. You place your hands on his chest, running them over his pecs.

“I have a small problem and only my husband can take care of it.” You say teasingly. Arthur raises his eyebrows and he pulls you closer by your hips. 

“Is that so?” He leans his face incredibly close to yours “And what is that?” 

“I have an ache between my legs and only you can handle that.” You grab his face between your hands and pull him even closer. Arthur groaned from your words and smashed his lips against yours in a heated kiss. 

“You.” He shakes his head “You’re gonna be the death of me, woman.” Arthur says and pushes you closer to the bed, and he stops when you reach the edge. His face is dangerously close again, so close that he brushes his lips against yours as he asks:

“And where is that ache exactly?” you take one of his hands and guide them between your legs, you can feel his fingers close to your core.

“Right here.” you purred. Arthur slowly sank down to his knees in front of you, his eyes never left yours. He lifted your skirt and ran his hands over your legs, making you shiver from his touch. With his eyes still locked with yours, he leans forward and places a kiss on the side of your knee.

“Here?” his lips are still touching your skin and as he spoke, his cold breath over your heated, wet skin gave you goosebumps. 

You shake your head and swallow hard.”A bit more upwards.” you breathed, and Arthur moves to place another kiss on your thigh. His tongue, barely, but it touched your skin, and the intoxicating feeling of Arthur’s beard and velvet tongue on your skin never failed to make you feel dizzy from the excitement. You sigh loudly and close your eyes for a second before you look back down to Arthur who’s watching your every little move eagerly, drinking in your pleasure. 

“Right here?” he asks again, and you shake your head, again, and lick your lips before you answer. 

“A little bit more.” you whispered, and Arthur moved, he laid several kisses on your thigh, until he was face to face with your wetness. He wasn’t touching you yet, he just breathed in your scent and he was waiting for your reaction.

“Right there, please.” you almost begged at this point, you were so turned on just by his simple touches. Arthur obligates and he runs his hot tongue over your wet slit with a long, and slow lick. You threw your head back with a loud moan, and you slipped your fingers into his blonde locks.

“So, right here?” Arthur teases, and you gently push his head closer to yourself.

“Yes, right there.” you moan. Arthur seeing how turned on you are, he decided to not tease you anymore, so he parted your lips and ran his tongue over your clit. Your body jerked from the sensation, and you moan his name. Arthur took one of your legs and threw it over his shoulder, opening you up more for him and he immediately delved his tongue into your fleshy pink folds, his agile tongue lapping your wetness, and his soft lips sucking your clit and skin. Fire pooling low in your abdomen, and it gets stronger and stronger with every lick, every touch. Your legs start shaking from your orgams what’s getting closer, and Arthur takes your cheeks in his hands, pulling you closer to his face, but also holding you as he’s sucking and licking every part of you faster and a little bit stronger, so you can explode in his mouth. 

“Arthur!” you scream as your vision is fading black as an earth shattering orgams runs all over your body. 

You’re still drowning in your pleasure when you feel Arthur lifting you up and placing you down on the bed, crawling on the top of you to kiss you passionately on the mouth. You sigh into the kiss, enjoying the mix of yours and Arthur’s taste on your tongue. 

“Turn around.” Arthur groans. You turn and lay down on your stomach, your legs are hanging down to the floor. You look behind yourself to see Arthur unbuttoning his leather pants, what you are so fond of, freeing his throbbing, hard member what’s standing proudly. You run your tongue over your bottom lip from the view, but before you could move to kneel down in front of Art to suck him, he already moved behind you and lifted your skirt up. You wiggle your naked bottom to tease him a little, and his answering loud groan tells you what you deep down already suspected: this won’t be your usual, soft lovemaking. And the way how he grabbed your hips to pull you closer to himself confirmed this. Arthur stepped between your legs and pushed them further apart with his, meanwhile his hand is on his cock, moving up and down, squeezing lightly, just the way he likes it. You push your ass out to him even more, so now you’re spread wide open for him. You feel Arthur place his throbbing erection to your opening, and before he slid into you he said:

“Better grab those sheets, love.” and he slammed into you hard before you had the opportunity to do as he said. You let out a yelp from the sudden feeling of being so stretched out, and in this position it’s even more intense as his cock is directly hitting your g-spot. Arthur pulled out of you, leaving only his tip inside of you, and before he slammed into you heard you grabbed the sheets to try to keep yourself in place, and you needed it since Arthur slammed into you even harder than before.

“Oh God!” you moan, and hide your face in the white beddings under you, but Arthur is having none of that, and he takes a fistfull of your hair, pulling your head back. You’re completely at his mercy as his legs keeps yours spread, one of his hands is grabbing your hips, keeping you in place, and his other hand is in your hair, keeping your head in place. And he started to move inside of you, hard and fast, the sound of his hips slapping against yours and your moans and his groans fill the room as the two of you move together. With every thrust of his, yours meets, as you’re pushing your hips out to meet with his, moving together. 

“Oh god, just like that!!” you sob from the pleasure, and you grab the sheets so hard that your knuckles turn white. 

“You feel you fucking good around me.” Arhur groans, and you throb furiously around him. He moves his hand from your hips and hair, and he pulls you closer to himself, your back is pressing against his chest, his arms are wrapped around you, one under your breasts, and the other is around your shoulder, hugging you close. Arthur presses his face to yours while his hips are still crashing against yours in an eager rhythm, pushing both of you towards your pleasure. He keeps you pressed against himself, holding you up, and you’re grateful since you don’t know you could do the same from the intense pleasure you’re feeling. 

‘Arthur!” you whine, and you grab his forearm, digging your nails into his skin. He bites your neck hard, then licks the skin to sooth the bite mark.

“Art, please!” you sob again, you’re so close, so god damn close to cum. You don’t need to specify what you want, Arthur knows, so he slips a hand between your legs, finding your clit and massaging it. You open your mouth in a silent moan as you cum hard around him suddenly, your whole body is shaking from your orgasm. Arthur slowed down a bit, letting you ride your orgasm out and catch your breath, and while you did that, he placed soft kisses all over your face and shoulder.

“Lay back down.” he whispers into your ear, his breath tickling your skin. You, so lazily, layed back down on the bed, and Arthur started moving again, a lot more genty this time, knowing that you’re sensitive now from your orgasm. No matter how gentle he was, in this position his cock was still directly hitting your g-spot, making you shake in your whole body from the overstimulation. You know he’s close as he starts moving a little faster, you hide your face in the sheets and bite down. It didn’t take you long until you could feel the familiar burning feeling between your legs and you let out a whine.

“I think I’m gonna cum again.” you say desperately, Arthur just groaned and started moving faster. 

“Oh, god!!!” you cry as your third, and most intense orgasm ripped through you, taking Arthur with you as he spilled himself into you with a loud groan. He pulls out of you and crashes his body down on the bed, covered in sweat and breathing hard.

“You now.” he says after a while “You can come to me anytime with this problem, no matter what I’m doing.” 

“Hhmm, hopefully next time I’ll catch you around that round table of yours.” you kiss his shoulder lightly. “I wanted to do it on that table since I saw it.” 

“Deal.” Arthur groans and kisses you on the mouth.

Tag list: @innerpaperexpertcloud @lady-evans @agirllovespasta @claudiahxrdy

@mheart27 @oldstuffnewstuff @keithseabrook27 @alexa-rae-dreamz

#charlie hunnam #king arthur #king arthur legend of the sword #king arthur legend of the sword fanfiction #king arthur x reader

[ardentmuse]

Congrats!!!!!!! I can't wait to read all the wonderful pics you write!!!!! This looks like so much fun!!! 39 for charlie Weasley please and thank you!!!

One More Month

Harry Potter - Charlie Weasley x fem!Reader

39. But then I remembered that I’m a naughty bitch.

Wordcount: 2.7k

Warnings: smut under the break, swearing, injuries, hurt/comfort, also, unprotected sex because they are wizards in a long-term relationship and we can assume magical birth control, right? Also, I’m married and so it is almost impossible for me to remember what pausing for the condom was like anymore. But you all should use protection. Super important. ☺ 

Masterlist

A/N: Did someone ask for Charlie Weasley smut? No?? Am I giving it to you anyway? Yes. Are you going to like it? Probably not, but it is what it is. The first half of the story could be general reader but the smutty part is written with a vagina-owner in mind, hence the fem!reader. But if you wish to ignore the smut, you can just stop at the little breaker line I put it. 

“Y/N, what are you doing here,” Charlie whispered as you lifted the blankets to his cot in the hospital wing in the wee hours of the morning. You pressed your finger to his mouth just as he started his final word. And soon you were hidden up to your neck in your boyfriend’s temporary covers.

A rogue bludger had decided Charlie’s shoulder looked like a nice place to collide during that afternoon’s friendly. That alone would have been fine – Charlie was made of tougher stuff – but the hit had toppled him off his broom. Hooch managed to catch him before he fell to the ground but not before his body collided with the opposing team’s left hoop. The sound his leg made as it snapped against the metal still made you cringe, but Charlie seemed unfazed. Some bruising, some healing to the bone, some rest and a few days off the pitch was all that the incident required. But those were Charlie’s injuries. Your injuries – the ones to your brain at the idea that you could lose this sweet man you loved so much so easily – were not so easily cured. 

“Was doing my rounds,” you hummed into his shoulder as you planted light kisses upon the exposed skin. Charlie was sleeping in only his boxer and the feel of his bare skin, hot and smooth against your fingers, was such a welcome feeling, a reminder of his health and virility even in his moment of weakness. “And I thought you could use some company.” 

Charlie smiled, or at least you thought he did. It was hard to tell with your head buried against his chest and your hands roaming the exquisite expanse of toned stomach and ribs that lay before you. He let out a light hiss as your lips moved across a bruise upon his shoulder but it was immediately followed by a sigh as Charlie fell further back into the pillows. His hands found root in your hair, encouraging the kind of healing only you could give him.

“You know you could get in quite a lot of trouble for sneaking in here,” he whispered, but his shallow breaths as your fingers teased at the edge of his boxers made it clear his words were simply platitudes to his future guilty conscience. 

“You know I thought of that,” you hummed, tickling at his earlobe, “But then I remembered that I’m a naughty bitch.” 

Charlie felt you smile against his neck as his hands held tight to your waist, securing you against him. He swallowed.

“Love,” he warned, as your fingers continued their journey southward. At the lightest caress of your fingertips, he closed his eyes and threw his head into the pillow.

Your hand gave a gentle squeeze to the hardened silk of him that only your hands had ever the joy of knowing.

“We only have another month until we’re out of here. Then you’ll move in with me in Romania and we can do this every morning if you want. But, please, love… you know I can’t say no to you.” 

You paused your hand to meet his gaze. His expression made it clear that his mind was waging a war; he clearly desired you but also desired to not get caught. 

You lifted your head to kiss him slow and pure of the mouth. His hands found your hips and held you close as he slowly explored you with his tongue. 

“Every morning then,” you whispered to him. 

“I can’t imagine you’d want me every morning.”

“I can’t imagine that I wouldn’t.” 

Charlie chuckled and held you tight to him. The heat radiating off of his body warmed your heart, just another pleasant reminder of the closeness you two would be able to share so soon. You imagined walking around your new home naked for the majority of your first month together, just in awe of the fact that you got to see him, all of him, whenever you so wished it. 

As his laughter subsided, you rested once more against Charlie’s sternum, allowing your cheek to enjoy the soft scrapping of his chest hair. 

“Whatever you say, love,” he whispered against your hair before planting a kiss upon your brow. And within a minute, you felt his breathing even out and sleep find him, and you fell asleep soon after. 

Your sleep was not nearly as restful as your partners. You had stopped by with the hopes of giving him some comfort and soon he had filled your mind with ideas about all the wonderful ways you might enjoy your freedom and privacy upon your graduation – images of a much more forward Charlie, leading you by the hand to your shared bed, worshipping your body with his own, showering you in kisses upon parts of your skin only he could see, making you come with him as the morning light broke through the trees, leaving you to feel the gentle ache and emptiness between your legs as you recovered throughout the morning. 

And that was the thought you woke to in the darkness of the hospital wing. Charlie’s mouth was buried in your hair and he softly whispered your name, dreamily and slurred. His hips were rocking with a steady rhythm against your thigh in a way that let you know his dreams were not all that different from your own.

“Charlie,” you whispered, rubbing this hair from his eyes, the sweat sticking them to his forehead. 

“Charlie.” 

“Ba-by, that’s… it,” was all he managed as he squeezed tighter to your waist.

“So good. So perf–. Mine.” 

He was fully erect against your rear, his length straining painfully against his boxers. You loved this man who was dreaming of you, whose fantasies were filled with his partner alone, and as your heart swelled, you realized it would be cruel to leave him in such a tortured state. 

“Charles,” you said, hoping your irregular sound would jar him somehow. When he didn’t seem to stop his gentle rocking into you, you turned in his arms pressing your core against him and felt the jolt through your body at the sensual reminder of the kinds of pleasures that wonderful shaft of his could bring you. 

“Ugh,” Charlie groaned, squeezing you more. You leaned forward and captured his lips in a kiss, soft and sweet. He loved you, even in his dreams, and nothing felt more right and pure than that. 

Charlie’s hand squeezed lightly at the flesh of your ass, and somehow, that little movement was enough to rouse him fully. 

“Sweetheart?” he whispered as he rubbed his eyes. 

You didn’t respond with words, instead kissing him once more, though this time with much more tongue, as you ground your body into his. His moans alone had turned you on quite a bit. This man would be your joy and your torture, so it seemed. 

His hands found your hips to help you in your motion. You were straddling him fully now as you lost yourself in your kisses, a sloppy, sleepy make-out, so different from the normal control Charlie maintained. His length ran against you, finding home against your core underneath your school skirts, pressing into your panties and sliding between your folds in a deliciously tempting way. He was like stone for you and your body could do nothing but crave him. 

You pushed yourself down hard on him and he groaned against you mouth, biting at your bottom lip. His breathing was staggered and he was heated all over. You wanted to strip him more to relieve him of his burning but there was nothing more to remove but the thin piece of silky cloth that alone was providing you with any semblance of self-control. 

“Love,” Charlie said against your mouth, encouraging you to pull away from just a second, “Would you still consider yourself a naughty bitch?” 

Charlie didn’t need to clarify. His fingers were dancing low between your thighs, having slid from your hips to tease at the lining of your panties, already soaked for him. 

Holding his gaze, you reached your hand back to grab at his shaft. He bit his lip, suppressing a needy moan. And that was all the encouragement you needed to pull him from the confines of his boxers. His fingers danced against your core as he shifted the small fabric that had hid your entrance from him. Together, looking solely at your other, you each shifted so your bodies would meet. And with a hard push from your hips, Charlie’s tip found home inside of you.

“Fuck,” he whisper-yelled against his pillow. He quickly looked back at you. “So good,” he added, “You’re perfection.” 

Even just his bulbous tip instead of you was enough to begin to relieve that aching need in your core. He stretched you so gently, filled you in a way that only he could, and even though the painful longing was reduced, it was quickly replaced with a rather carnal desire to drain him of everything he had to give you. 

With a wicked smile upon your lips, you held his shoulders and rolled your hips down, taking the length of him into you in a single thrust. You couldn’t suppress the groan as your eyes rolled back with pleasure as he bottomed out inside of you. Part of you seriously mourned that inch of him that never got to know you intimately, that poor little bit of his shaft that simply couldn’t fit, not until his final push where he would bury himself full in you to sputter to orgasm. You wanted all of him. 

Charlie pulled you down so you were chest to chest, taking over the work of the slow and calculated thrusting that left you dizzy. He was making quick work of bringing you to orgasm, strong thrusts the continuously stroked your just right, the soft roll of his hips that rubbed your clit against his pelvic bone, and the gentle nipping of your ear and neck as he breathed you in. You were putty to him, to mold as he so fashioned, to heal his spirit as well as his body from the pain it had so endured. 

As the sounds of his strokes inside of you, wet and persistent, grew louder to your ears, Charlie locked his arms around you and sat upright. You held tight to his shoulder to not lose your position, but Charlie had other plans. He lifted himself up on his strong thighs, holding you tightly to him so your legs had no choice but to fall back behind his back. You were now sitting upon his lap in the way school children might sit for story time, criss-cross apple sauce,  but when he rocked his hips into you, you knew you were far from childish games. 

“Oh, god,” was all you managed as you rested yourself in his arms. The new position was intimate, heavenly, to hold each other so close, the closest two humans could ever be, felt like the sort of promise you hoped you would exchange in much nicer clothes someday. 

“The name’s Charlie, love. So sad you’ve forgotten,” he whispered in your ears as he continued to languidly explore you. You couldn’t help but laugh. He really was his father some days, though you didn’t really want to be thinking about that at the moment. 

With your laughter, he picked up his pace and his hand began working the space in between you. Your nerves were on fire for him and as he touched and stroked that bundle at the top of your folds, you thought you would light up the both of you.

You screamed as you felt your body clenching down on him. Charlie had grown inside of you, so hard and full that you didn’t think you could fit him any more. It was torture so beautiful that nothing could ease your pain but your own release.

Charlie’s mouth captured your own to stifle the moans. His hand caressed your lower back, helping you to rock your hips into his cock and his hand so you might find your release even sooner. And with that movement, you did. You spasmed and clenched against him, enjoying the feel of your body trembling for the man you loved. He held you close and whispered into your ear that he loved you as you whimpered in your release. Waves of electricity rocked through you, each more pleasurable than the last, until your felt that joyous calm that Charlie’s strokes always provided. 

A few more thrusts and Charlie was collapsed back against the pillows, his whole self finally home in your body, his head contracting with each wave of ejaculation that coated your insides. As he softened, you felt the new type of fullness of his seed inside of you, claiming you as his own. As even though you knew children were quite a number of years down the road for you, the idea that part of Charlie might live inside of you, a reminder of your coupling, was unreasonably pleasant. 

“I agree,” Charlie whispered as he lifted your hips off of him, “You are indeed quite naughty.” 

You giggled as Charlie handed you some tissues from his nightstand. He took a few himself and began the gentle process of cleaning up the sore parts of your body. 

“It’s your fault for being so beautiful,” you said. You tossed the tissues off the bed and into the bin, and, after a moment, reached for your wand and transfigured the clump of tissues into a crumpled bit of parchment, eliminating any signs of your nighttime escapades. 

“I’ve got bruises all over my body, I broke a rib, and I have a black eye. I’m not too beautiful at the moment, I’m certain.”

You looked up to assess your lover for the first time since the sun was just beginning to break through the clouds outside. His nose was quite dark, hiding the freckles you loved so much, and his eye was quite swollen and puffy. His hair was a mess of red curls, fallen from their normal ponytail and cascading in uneven segments around his head. He was a bit worse for wear, but he was still your handsome Charlie.

You kissed him once again. “Still beautiful.”

“And you are still delusional.”

You laughed as you lifted yourself from the bed and gathered your robes. 

“Dorm will be waking soon. Gotta get back, love.” 

Charlie began to nestle once more into the covers, the exhaustion of his injuries and of his orgasm coming together all at once. You finished your dressing at kissed him one more on the forehead. As you began to walk away, he caught your wrist. You turned to see his eyes open again, staring at you with all the love you knew you felt for him in return. 

“One more month,” he said before kissing your palm.

“One more month.” 

As you slipped out of the hospital wing, you looked once more upon his bed. Charlie was already sleeping once more, his arms thrown over his head and his broad chest rising and falling in peaceful slumber. Clearly the healing magic your lovemaking gave him was doing its worth. 

You smiled and returned to your dorm, thinking about that simple sight and how lucky you’ll be when you get to see it each and every morning for the rest of your life together. 

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