#just leaning over him breathing down his neck letting him feel the breadth of his chest against his shoulders type shit

[izzystizzys]

obsessed with the izzy vs everyone height difference, but esp steddyhands coded

like. izzy, who‘s still so deeply caught in fighting all these battles against parts of him the world deems unworthy. for whom his stature and bearing were hardwon battles fought over years, who can’t shake the echo of bigger, stronger men always zeroing in on him as the easy target - for any number of things, height, weight, voice, a thousand others - and who’s always fought these battles violently and relentlessly

and the only person he’s ever had anything approximating positive feelings about being bigger than him was ed, who used to say it was cute the way he could wrap himself around all of izzy and then some, and rest his chin atop his head to annoy him out of doing work, and who stopped touching him at all somewhere along the line (they’re working on that, these days)

who has all of this rushing in to bite him squarely in the ass when he finds himself one day dragged away and hefted up into stede bonnet’s toned???? arms away from a barfight, mind suddenly empty and frozen mid-calling someone a cunt, just.

well, ed used to do stuff like this, sometimes, before he fucked his knee. stuff that never failed to get izzy’s blood pumping and them both nearly stabbed with distraction, and stede fucking bonnet, gentleman pirate is quite frankly the last person izzy thought he’d be having this second revelation with this late in life, is all

but. oh. he’s staring up at the ponce, going on about something or other how smashing bottles over people’s heads isn’t a civilized way of solving disputes, and if izzy was thinking clearly he might say that it’s a sight more civilized than gutting them which he might’ve done instead, but is he ever not

because he’s been summarily deposited on the small brick wall outside, and bonnet is looming over him with both hands braced either side of izzy’s hips, and his brain is receiving exactly none of the words stede is sending, cause-

well. apparently he really fucking likes this

#steddyhands #kind of stizzy #a bit of edizzy but mostly in a failmarriage way #stede when he realizes there‘s nothing behind izzy‘s eyes but blown pupils and a gaping void: are you even listening to me izzy??? #izzy: hm #but once he realizes he becomes absolutely unhinged with it #just all broad palm fanned out fingers against the small of izzy‘s back tilting him gently into his grip with warm fingers around his chin #just leaning over him breathing down his neck letting him feel the breadth of his chest against his shoulders type shit #ed misses out on the weird tension for precisely three days before he catches the way stede always steps too close making izzy tilt his head #back up to look at him and thinks to intervene #‘thats nice’ stede says sweating ‘but uh i promise he’s… into it?’ #izzy in the corner is having a religious experience and currently ten astral planes removed judging by how hard he’s blushing #ed goes huh. he lets someone else do that? he likes stede throwing him around? #and is instantly and unreasonably jealous of this but unable to do anything without looking insanse but up the ante #izzy caught in the middle is having an insanely and embarrassingly good time #ofmd fic idea #back at it again (shouting my insane takes into the void)

[tasteracha]

let me see you

a/n: just you watching minho jerk himself off. <1k. SMUT - MINORS DNI

it’s a game the two of you play - riling each other up and pushing the other out of their comfort zone, always testing the limits in a way that leaves the both of you feeling out of control in the best possible way. 

you of course had days where you’d fall into each other’s arms and fuck slow and sweet, whispering declarations of love into each others’ ears. you had days where you both fell asleep tangled together on the couch, warm and fully clothed and comfortable just being near each other. there’s days where you have to spend them apart, him traveling or you visiting your family, and you’d fall asleep to the sound of each other’s slow breathing over the phone. 

this was not one of those days. 

this was a day where you won the unspoken game, you got the upper hand, you’re calling the shots. a day where you can do whatever you want with him, have him do whatever you wanted him to do with you, soft and pliant under you as he holds on to your every word. 

except, you didn’t want that. what you wanted was the image of him in front of you as he is right now, fully stripped and naked and vulnerable on the bed with you standing at the foot of it, clothed and so, so turned on. he had taken off his clothes in record time, flopping on the bed as he eagerly stared at you, waiting for you to touch him. 

“touch yourself,” you say instead of doing that. he looks at you with his eyes wide in shock while his cock twitches a little at your command. it’s hard and flushed against his stomach, has been since before you even made it to the room. you raise an eyebrow at him when he doesn’t move, as threatening as you can manage while admiring the smooth planes and curves of his body. 

“really?” he says, voice incredulous as his hand travels tentatively down his body, stopping a hair's breadth from his swollen cock. you nod, a breath escaping you as his hand finally fists his cock and his head angles back against the pillows. 

“look at me,” you say sharply, gripping one of his ankles, the only part of him that you’re going to touch for a while. he tilts his head back down, slightly kiltered off to the side as he slowly strokes himself. his eyes are hooded and dark, and he takes in a sharp breath when he curves his wrist a bit. 

you squeeze his ankle, tightening your fingers around his skin, and he speeds up without you having to ask. good boy, you don’t say out loud. he doesn’t need it, or deserve it, not yet. 

he bites his lip as he works himself, his chest and neck flushing red as his breaths turn shallow and quick. his cock looks so pretty in his hand, his graceful fingers curving around himself so well as he jerks himself off with a familiarity only he can have. no matter how hard you try, you’re never going to know his body as well as he does, and it’s worth it just for moments like this where you see sides of him you can’t pull out of him yourself. 

“let me hear you,” you breathe out when you see him biting his lip to hold back a moan. you’re almost as out of breath as he is just from watching him, he looks gorgeous laid out in front of you like this. he lets out a drawn out groan, tapering into a whimper when your hand trails up a bit to stroke his calf. you’re leaned over him now, watching his hand intently, your eyes don’t stray other than to look into his own. 

he’s letting out harsh pants in between moans as his hand loses it’s rhythm, little ah-ah-ah’s escaping his plush lips; he’s close, and you can’t stop yourself from climbing over him as his face contorts in pleasure. you kiss him, taking advantage of the way his mouth is slack and open by dipping your tongue inside, sliding along his teeth before pulling away. 

“come for me,” you say against his lips, smiling when he chokes out a cry and his entire body tenses, thighs trembling. he arches up into his hand as he releases onto his stomach, his body following your command like he’s possessed. you keep your eyes on his and he doesn’t look away, not even to blink as a haze takes over and he’s left dazed and slumped into the bed underneath you. 

you look down to see his cum painting his stomach and you slide your finger through it, marveling at how he coats your skin. you bring it to his mouth and he opens obediently, sucking the digit in and hallowing his cheeks as he continues to stare at you with half lidded eyes. 

he’s perfect. 

“my good boy,” you marvel, eyes fond as you smile at him before settling against his side, your cheek squished to his shoulder. 

“clean?” he asks, voice soft and brow furrowed. 

“later,” you hum against him. 

“mmkay,” he says, eyes slipping closed as he drifts off. 

#stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #lee know imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids hard hours #lee know x reader #lee minho smut

[luveline]

ARE YOU TAKING REQUESTS FOR HOTCH????? I-OH MY please write super fluffy domestic vibes with hotch? Just the reader being super tired late at night waiting for him and still taking care of him when he gets home? Like taking his coat and shoes off and offering him a hot bath?

Maybe he just can't help but melt and get all soft around her?

You can ignore this if you wish to! Dw! Love your writing<3

thank you for your request!! hotch x tired fem!reader

Your head feels cloudy and heavy as a bowling ball when you hear the apartment door creak open. You lift your head, your neck protesting its soreness, and wipe the little line of dribble from your chin as Aaron turns the gentle corner into the lounge. 

"You're still up," he says. 

"Can't let my man come home to nothing," you say, or try to say, rubbing your eyes as you stand on wobbly footing. 

He swoops in for a hug. You love this part of being with him. You'd thought it was the drunkenness of a new relationship at first, but it never went away. When it's you and him alone, Aaron adores you unapologetically. 

"You're so tired," he says, his voice tipping gently into teasing. 

"I'm not," you argue. 

He doesn't believe you, clearly, a light behind his eyes that says, Yeah, right. You don't need him to believe you to take care of him, unfortunately for him. You lean back in the circle of his arms and give his neck a light, loving scratch, fingertips curving down his throat to the snug collar of his t-shirt. You work your way into his perfectly knotted tie and ease it loose. 

His hand does some unworking all its own, kneading into the rigid line of your aching back with care. "You're tense," he says. 

"I'm a bit sore," you admit. 

"Sleeping sitting up does that to you." Profiler. 

"Stop, stop cheating," you say, pulling the tie from his neck and laying it over your shoulder. "I hate this button. I don't know how you get it undone without me, it's always snug." 

"Good thing you're here to do it for me," he says. Trust him to guard his secrets. 

You pop his first button, then his second, and rub the red indent the starched collar has pressed into his neck with over-exaggerated concern. 

"You might be better at pretending than I am, but I can still tell when you're tired, Hotchner." 

He tightens his hold around your waist. "What did we say about Hotchner?" he asks, his voice rough and warm at once. He sounds as though he could tip into salaciousness if you only did it first. 

"I don't remember," you say. 

"I'm sure you don't." 

He grabs your cheek. Grab is too cruel a word, but cup is too soft. He takes your face into his hand, the breadth of his palm drowning your face, warm and solid and breathtakingly tender as he turns your face and leans in. He kisses the corner of your mouth.

Your breath catches as he kisses lower. His lips trail to your jaw, just under it, the skin beneath your ear. 

"I made you dinner," you say, pulling him back carefully, your hand in his hair. He doesn't fight it. "I know you're hungry." 

"I'm trying to seduce you," he says, clear entertainment in his tone. You love this Aaron most of all, much better than his dominant work personality, or his quieter seductions. Playful, loving Aaron is his sweetest mode. 

"I know, and I'm trying to make sure you don't keel over and die before you reach fifty." 

"That won't happen. You're keeping me young." 

"Oh, really?" You squeeze his bicep. "How am I doing that?" 

"I'd tell you, but I don't think you're in the mood," he says, still playful. 

He really does sound younger when he's with you. You've heard him sometimes down the phone giving orders or correcting his colleagues, and it's different to this. He lives for his job, but he's happier when he's with you. It's not something you take lightly. 

"I could be in the mood," you say. 

He chuckles and kisses your cheek. "Not tonight. You're falling asleep on your feet, and I'm not far behind you." 

"You'll eat dinner though, won't you?" 

"If you eat with me." 

Aaron absolutely won't let you take his shoes off, which is a disappointment but unsurprising. He does, however, allow you to flit around him at the kitchen table, warming his plate and pouring him a small glass of scotch. By some miracle he eats all of it, and only drinks a sip of the scotch by another. He trades his short glass for a bottle of water, and his dark suit for freshly washed pyjamas, trailing after you in the dimly lit hallway to your shared bedroom with his fingers woven in yours obligingly. 

You wonder if he'd let you brush his teeth for him. Weirdly, you know if you asked him to, he'd brush your teeth for you. You can imagine it, your chin pinched in one hand as he looks down at you, his other guiding gentle circles. You file the daydream away for another night and get through this one easily enough, you and Aaron hip to hip, his elbow on your shoulder.

Aaron lifts his hand, drawing a circle around your ear absentmindedly. After what seems to be an internal debate, he takes your ear lobe between his index and middle fingertips and gives it a soft tug. 

You glare at him, toothbrush between your lips, toothpaste foaming at the corners of your mouth. His returning grin makes you feel like the prettiest girl on Earth. 

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

[lovrily]

hi :) could you do steve x shy reader at like a party or something and steve is her boyfriend who is super flirty but she's never had a boyfriend before so she's nervous bc he's being flirty?? i hope this makes sense 😭 thank you!!

it makes so much sense! i hope this is good! fem!reader | 2000 words | suggestive but no smut

"we should leave."

you look up from the fire, a marshmallow melting on the metal skewer you're holding. "really? why?"

steve shrugs. "let's do it."

"why?" you laugh. you're not disappointed; you wouldn't mind going back to his place and getting in pajamas, where it's quiet and familiar. but it had taken a lot of convincing on steve's part to get you to come to the bonfire in the first place, so you're surprised he would want to leave so early. he'd even convinced you to wear your bathing suit, although you'd worn his shirt over it for most of the night.

he hasn't answered.

"are you upset?" you ask quietly.

"no, it's not that." he smiles at you, a little crookedly. "sorry, babe."

"it's okay," you laugh. when you flip your skewer around and bite into the marshmallow, he inhales- bending down to pick up your purse. when you bite the rest of it off the tip of your thumb, his nostrils flare.

your eyes flash wide. "what?"

"nothing. you wanna go? we don't have to."

"yeah, but-"

"i got you, then. my car's out front. did you know that?"

he's murmuring and grinning like a fool. yeah, he jokes again, this time in your ear. let me take you home. you can't help but laugh.

there's a small chorus of friendly but mostly unfamiliar girls around the fire who whine various lines like, no, don't take her yet! or, leave her with us! and while you're flattered that so many people have taken a liking to you in one night, you're perfectly relieved to go home.

steve puts his hand on your back while you weave through the small crowd. his friends holler at him, trying to say goodbye, and he waves back at them, every gesture noncommittal. the sky is a murky, midnight blue, the sun completely gone. you're gawking at him by the time you've hiked back to the empty section of the field where you parked, a handful of other empty cars around you.

"are you sure nothing's wrong?"

"wrong?" he scoffs. "no, nothing's wrong."

"you're scaring me."

he opens the passenger's door and leans on it, smiling. "you're ridiculous."

"what!"

once you're inside, he shuts the door and hauls around to the driver's seat, shutting it and locking it behind him. the breadth of his shoulders blocks the moon, his hair fluffy and dark, mostly towel-dried after swimming. you lean away and he's watching you- so you're tempted to lean back over and just let him do whatever it is he's planning to do. but you're genuinely rather confused, so you hold your ground against the seat. it's cold against your back, even in the dead of summer.

"your hair is still wet," steve murmurs.

"i know. sorry, i'm getting it on your seats."

he reaches over and takes a section of your hair in his fingers. "babe, you know i don't care."

"i know."

he's still smiling.

"what is your problem?" you nearly shriek.

then you're laughing, and he's laughing even harder, and then he kisses you, and you're very, very quiet.

he's still grinning. his fingertips rake against the back of your neck, at your hairline, careful not to yank at the wet strands there. his thumb skids over your cheek, your face still slightly damp, your skin too-clean and sensitive and a little cold.

"are you cold?" he says suddenly.

"no," you breathe. not now.

you pull away, dizzy. he breathes hard, beaming at you, but he doesn't look nervous. he's steve. he doesn't get nervous doing stuff like this. especially not with you.

why would he, with you? he's your first boyfriend. he doesn't have to impress you, if he doesn't want to. maybe you're not very impressive, either. every time he kisses you, you feel like you're going to pass out. that's not very cool girl of you.

now is not the time to be feeling insecure, but the feeling has already set in- even after he wraps his right arm around your waist and hauls you over to the driver's seat. you squeal as he sits you on his lap, grabbing his keys from the console and putting them in the ignition behind you. the heat comes on in a dull wave.

he's about to kiss you again, and then he stops, pulling wet, knotted strands of hair away from your eyes as you loom over him, not fully settled.

"you okay?" he asks.

"yeah," you try to say confidently. it's more of a wheeze.

"yeah?"

"yeah."

he smirks, and it might look a little evil if he wasn't so sweet.

"can i kiss you?"

it's the stupidest question you've ever heard. he's practically gloating.

"again?"

he gawks at you, laughing. "again, yeah."

"you want to?"

you're not even sure why you say it. but you do, and at first, steve just snickers quietly. then his smile goes a little crooked and his brows knit together. and he says-

"of course i do."

you swallow. "okay." be cool. "do it."

that was not cool in the slightest.

steve watches you, leaning back a little bit, like you're something to examine. you fight the urge to wrench your eyes shut. one of his hands lands softly on your hip, and the other comes up to rub your arm, warm over the thin tan sleeve of his waffle shirt.

"are you okay?" he asks. this time, he really means it.

"yeah," you nod. "i'm okay."

"but you're hovering."

"i'm what?"

"sweetheart," steve laughs softly, letting go of you for a moment. you droop a bit, and realize he's right. "you're not sitting."

"you can't just ask a girl to sit on you, harrington."

he looks like he might laugh, but he doesn't- his expression oddly serious for the night. "did i do something?"

"no!"

you finally lock eyes with him, and he looks so worried that guilt blooms in your gut. just be honest.

"i don't know, sometimes...i just get nervous. when we're together."

your words seem to wound him, but he's listening intently. "okay."

he brings his hand back to your arm, tracing lines on your skin over the fabric of his shirt.

"i...haven't had a boyfriend before," you say. it's not a shock- he knows. "you're my first. for everything."

he nods. "my luck is crazy."

"sure," you scoff, but his face is gravely serious. "i just worry sometimes that you're going to realize i'm not worth it. sometimes, when you...when you kiss me, or...touch me, i just get scared you're going to realize i'm not what you want. you could have someone who's less nervous. or who's been with other people before."

someone who isn't me.

you're a little horrified once you've said all of it. steve just watches you, crickets chirping outside the car, the heater blowing by your waist and over your elbows. his hands go still, and his face crumples, like he'd cut himself on something sharp. his mouth falls open a little bit.

"honey," he laments.

"i know. sorry-"

steve leans forward and wraps his arms around you, pinning your biceps to your sides at first, not weaving your limbs with his. you both inhale. he squeezes you, your head drooping onto his shoulder, and then he pulls you away and loops his hands through your sides; where you finally sit on his lap, thighs brushing against the console and the door. he holds you around your stomach and puts one hand on the back of your head, holding you to his neck. the scent of sunscreen and bug spray laundry detergent make it more real; his hands warm and dry from swimming, his neck tan from being in the sun. the entanglement of you both is a heavy weight on the seat.

you breath in again and exhale. he's real, and he loves you, even when it's hard to believe it.

"are you kidding me, sweetheart? are you joking?"

"no," you laugh, voice muffled at his neck, but he doesn't in return.

"you should have told me that before. i feel like i'm gonna be sick."

"steve!"

he squeezes you once more and plants a kiss to the top of your head, then one on your forehead. his palms meet your cheeks and he tilts your head back, your arms wrapped around his neck.

"i don't want anyone but you," he says earnestly. "there is no one i want to be with but you. it doesn't even cross my mind. it's not an option."

you might cry. he wipes his thumb over your cheek, now hot as an iron.

"you're it for me," he says plainly. "okay?"

"okay."

"do you believe me?"

"yes," you nod, embarrassed.

he shakes his head at you, expression still pained. it's almost comedic how awful he feels, but you feel even worse for bringing it up.

"i'm sorry."

"don't," he retorts. "no. don't be. c'mere."

you lean forward and kiss him this time, and he's happy about it; the palms on your cheeks sliding back into your hair and over your ears, drowning out the sounds of the field like a fishbowl. all you hear is him. all you feel is him.

"i love you," he murmurs, kissing your lips- and then the tip of your nose, and then your chin and the crook of your neck. "you're my girl. i love you. there's no one else."

you melt like ice cream, slumped in his hands. what else can you do?

"steve..." you whisper.

"mhm?"

"let's go home."

his response is delayed. he kisses the crook of your neck again, then closer to your collarbone. when you inhale sharply, he leans back, screwing his eyes shut.

"but we have to drive all the way there."

"you're the one who wanted to go home in the first place!" you beam, amused at his grimace.

"home is far," steve utters. "you're here. right now."

you're going to die if he keeps talking like that. so you climb off of him and drop ungracefully into the passenger's seat, clicking your seatbelt into place. steve groans.

"oh, that's evil."

"take me home, harrington."

he sits there for a second, and then shakes his head; running his hands over his eyes and his hair, black against the night. his laughter is a quiet rumble.

"you're killing me. you don't even get it."

"what'd i do?"

his head is still in his hands. "you don't even have to do anything. you're just sitting there, and you're driving me insane. it's embarrassing. it's bad for my reputation."

"take me home, steve."

you're trying to be firm, but you're smiling. it's impossible not to. steve sighs once, then sits up, putting the car in reverse.

"you need to watch for cops, at this point, sweetheart, because i'm going to go fifty over until we get home."

you consider saying something snide in return, but honestly, you'd be perfectly happy if he did.

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #stranger things fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader

[neopuppy]

preview: boys like u

pairing. Jeno x female reader

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

“I’m here for you Jaemin.”

A smile finally appears, ducking his face as he chuckles softly and reaches for your hand hanging by your hip. “You’ve been too good to me ever since the breakup.. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for anything, I’m your friend.”

He pauses for a minute, thumb rubbing the back of your hand as he zones out and nods. “You are my friend. She never really liked that, said I’d call this a boys trip just to come here and flirt with Chenle’s cousin..”

A swell of hope crashes through your chest when his eyes lift to yours and he smiles large enough for the top row of his teeth to fully show. “Friends aren’t supposed to flirt, right?”

“I wouldn’t even know how to flirt.” You pout, exaggerating your blinks. “How would I flirt? Can you show me?”

A clear tinge of red rises up his neck, dropping his head back to let out a howling laugh, inadvertently squeezing your hand tightly. “The idea of you, of all people, not knowing how to flirt is too funny.”

“I don’t know what’s funny about that.” You smirk, leaning in to sway closer for your face to only stand a couple of inches apart. “Can’t you teach me how to flirt? I bet you’re good at it.”

Jaemin staggers for a moment, smile falling slowly as he takes in your curious gaze. “You really want me to show you?”

“Mhmm.” You nod, biting down a grin.

Clearing his throat, he straightens, releasing your hand to rest his arm above your head against the door frame to your room. “Say we just wrapped up a first date..” He hums, painting a scenario out for you without breaking eye-contact. “I walk you home, thank you for gracing me with your presence.” He huffs, lip lifting at one side. “And then I stop to look you up and down, just like this.”

Slowly, long dark eyelashes take their time to fan down over his cheeks, tucking his lower lip in beneath his teeth as he passes over your breasts. “And I lean in close enough to feel your breath quickening, to watch your chest rise faster. Making it obvious that I can’t stop staring at you, can’t get enough of your beauty.”

His voice deepens, re-enacting everything he says until your backs pressed flat against the door, breathing shallowly, gone silent in awe.

“I don’t have to say much..” he pouts slightly, hand lifting to move a loose strand of hair behind away from your face, intentionally grazing the shell of your ear. Pleased by the obvious shiver that passes down your body. “I just..”

Taking one more step forward he meets you at eye level, dragging his fingers down your jawline to your chin to pinch, focusing on your lips naturally parting open for him, so inviting.

“Lick my lips,” and he does, dragging his tongue from one side to the other, gaze more sultry and hooded now. “And whisper right here like this..” only a hair’s breadth away, he whispers less than an inch away from your mouth. “When do I get to see you again?”

Fuck. 

Ready to scream, you have to bite down on your tongue when he abruptly pulls away and shrugs, standing up straight. “Works every time.”

“Uhm,” sucking down a dry gulp, you nod, patting for the doorknob behind you. “I’ll definitely have to try that out sometime.”

Jaemin backs away, stepping backwards with a wink. “You’ll have to let me know if it works. Now get some rest, we have a long day by the pool tomorrow.” 

You’d swear he hasn’t stopped flirting given the way he spins around and watches you from over his shoulder still stuck in place against your door as if you’ve been hot glued there. May as well be, clenching your thighs in a deathgrip out of fear that the sticky heat pooling your underwear could trickle free. 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” You whine once he’s disappeared to the other side of the house. Letting out a long exhausted sigh, you quickly make to enter your room, reaching for the light switch as the door shuts behind you covering everything in darkness.

“You can’t be fucking serious.” 

A roar of anger charges at you, rasping deep before colliding with your chest, crashing your back against the opposite side of the door you were just fighting to free yourself from.

“Ah, fuck!” You hiss, reaching to rub the back of your head surely to have a walnut sized bump by morning. “Jeno?? Is that you?!?”

“Who the fuck else would it be Sherlock.” He rasps directly in your face, lodging one of his forearms under your chin until you cough from lack of air.

“Wh-what the hell are you doing?!” You manage to squeak out, slapping his elbow. “Get off me!”

“What the hell am I doing?!” He roars, nose digging into your forehead. “What the hell are you doing!!”

“Huh??”

“My best friend?!” Jeno’s screaming, crackling the louder he gets, jerking his arm against your neck to congest your air flow. “Please be fucking serious.”

“Wh-what?!” You cough, clutching onto his thick forearm with both hands, sucking large intakes of oxygen in. “Get off me!”

“God you won’t be satisfied until you fuck literally everyone.” Dropping his arm, he gives you no time to recover, manhandling you around to slam you chest first against the door. He scoots up behind you, slotting his covered lower half against yours. The familiar addictive warmth you’ve hungered for since last spring break throbs against your bottom, having to grind your teeth to control an onslaught of whimpers from giving away your arousal. 

“You’re such a whore, fucking open up your legs for anyone.” Strong hands grip the backs of your thighs, slowly climbing up higher to cup the roundness of your ass. “I don’t give a fuck who you fuck.”

Pressing in, he flattens to your back, shoving his arm around your neck from behind, cupping your chin to turn your face to the side. “But you will not,” Jeno breathes heavily against your cheek, licking down to the corner of your mouth. “Fuck him.”

You know by now it’s better to stay silent judging by how riled up he is already, rutting against your ass like some starved beast desperate to feed. 

But you both know the real reason you sneak around, fight in front of everyone else, taunt and torment each other.

The real reason you glare at him from the corner of your eye and slide your tongue out to lap at his finger.

“Oh yeah? And who’s going to stop me?”

#WIP #if u love me u will vote this one LMAOOO🤭 #bc maybe i crave some hate fucking rn ok!!!! #will post poll tomorrow to give these time to absorb #😤😤😤

[apocalypse-shuffle]

EDDIE MUNSON (stranger things)

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“Say It” (Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader)

| You, Eddie, and the back of his van.

| NSFW, 18+, minors dni, penetrative vaginal sex, dirty talk(I guess?)

| 800+ words

“C’mon, you can take it, can’t you pretty girl?”

You moan, breath punching out of you from the way Eddie’s pistoling his hips. His thrusts are relentless, only seeming to change when he picks up pace every few minutes.

“Yea-” you choke out.

Your head’s rolling all over the place on the soft fabric of the blanket Eddie layed out for you in the van as you're taken in the back of it. Eddie makes a low noise, voice hoarse as he bends towards you. Your bodies press more firmly together and your tongue practically lolls out of your mouth.

“You love it, don’t you? Say you love this cock.”

You whine and subconsciously clench harder around your boyfriend.

“Ah fuck -shit- baby I love your cock,” your eyes squeeze shut as Eddie moans and his periodic burst of energy comes back. “I-I love how you feel inside me, stretching me out so g-”

As you talk Eddie puts his hand at the base of your stomach, making sure he’s above where the imprint of his length is carving a path through you, and you wheeze as he pushes down.

“J-Jesus fuck,” you gasp.

Eddie chuckles in your ear and then starts nipping at your throat. The few strands of hair that are too short to stay in the messy ponytail he put it in tickles at your face and makes short little giggles of air puff out of you.

He lifts up from your mahogany skin only far enough to speak, lips brushing over your neck.

“Tell me something else then. Who’s my pretty girl?”

“I am,” you moan as one of his hands grabs your hips and manually slams you down onto him.

Eddie hums roughly and cants his hips to meet yours. You let out a high pitched mewl.

“Say it right or I’ll stop, Y/n,” he leans up on his unoccupied forearm so he can look you steadily in the eye. “Tell me who’s my pretty girl.”

You choke, the thought of him stopping when you’re so close -when he’s been giving you his all this whole time- has you scrambling to appease him over your own latent insecurities.

“I’m your-” you gasp on a hiccup and Eddie’s eyes narrow at your apparent stalling. You start shaking your head but he’s already reacting before you can get a word out edgewise. You whine at the loss.

He pulls almost all the way out till just his tip is in you and shifts himself up on his knees. He’s effectively looming over you as those hands from earlier thwart any attempt your hips make at searching for release. Both now securing you.

“Eddie please,” you gasp trying to coax him back in by squeezing down on his head.

He groans roughly for a breath, eyes slamming shut as he rides the wave of pleasure, but otherwise doesn’t do a thing except smirk down at you with a brow raised as his grip on you gets that much stronger. Still catching your breath you roll your eyes with a little huff and settle down. Eddie’s grip eases and he rubs at your thighs gently.

“We both know I’ll come without you if you don’t say it, Y/n.”

Easy delivery, challenging quirk of his eyebrows, his ass really wasn’t going to move. Goddamnit. You gape up at him from the floor. A few seconds ago the need to reach climax had made the words seem like nothing. Now though…

“Come on,” you add a whine to your voice. “You can’t expect me to-”

One of the hands Eddie’s running up your side stops and pats at the meat of your thigh to quiet you.

“I do,” he murmurs voice getting soft. “I really really do.”

He leans down now, capturing your plush lips in a kiss. It’s slow and makes your eyes flutter closed as you sigh. When Eddie lets up for air there’s only a hair's breadth between your mouths.

“I promise I’ll show you how much it means to me. All you gotta do is say it. Just for the two of us, Baby. Please?”

The deceptively tender tone coupled with the feel of his lips upturning cheekily against your own, like he didn’t just promise to rearrange your guts for four words, is what does you in. You know he knows it too cause the second you inhale to sigh out an affirmative the hand not holding himself up is already braced on your hips.

He rises just enough that he can look you in the eyes without going crosseyed and then nods for you to go.

The “I’m your pretty girl,” comes out quiet in the charged air but Eddie’s responding groan of “Fuck yeah, you are,” has electricity sparking across your skin.

He slams home a millisecond later and both of your moans intertwine.

“Again,” he grunts and you desperately gasp the words out as he fucks into you; the two of you drunk on your combined energy.

#eddie munson #black!reader #black y/n #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #the van is basically fanon but whatever #18+

[love-toxin]

#the merchant not being IN the shooting range like he is in re4 gives me thots abt being bent over the counter too-//SHOT #luis promising u a prize if u beat his high score (its him he's the prize)

so u just gonna spoonfeed us some ideas then leave us hungry ⁉️⁉️⁉️ smh my head get to work /j

>:)

(cws: gn!reader, semi-public sex, jealousy, mutual pining, teasing)

You know Luis isn't gonna keep quiet while you're shooting away--honestly he has to stop himself from shifting around or adjusting himself because just the sight of you with a gun in your hands turns him on. He loves the way your shoulders tense when he gives you a compliment, how you glance over your shoulder and your grip goes slack when he flashes you a wink and a grin, because you just can't help being cute. You can act tough all you want, but you're adorable and he thinks you know that. If not, well, he's here to remind you.

"How about some pointers, mi vida?"

"I know how to shoot, Luis."

You huff and puff but you don't reject his approach, you don't shove him off when his chest meets your back and certainly not when his hands clasp gently over yours. You let him lead you, guide your hands up to aim the sights down at the target, and slowly squeeze the trigger-

"You're good at this, mi amor." His murmuring voice trickles into your ear, resonating louder in the aftermath of the enormous bang of the gun firing and the target blasting into pieces. His fingertips drawing down your arm leave shivers in their place, his warmth bleeding into every inch of skin....it's no wonder you lay the gun down and turn to face him, eyes gleaming with something akin to need that your hands convey so much clearer as they drift up his chest. Luis doesn't even have to speak, you can feel his intentions in the way he reaches around to grab for fistfuls of your cheeks, and lifts you up to sit you on the counter so you can look down on him.

"Oh, don't let me stop you. I'm just admiring the view." Such a tease. He's swift in feeling behind you for the gun and raising it up, his free hand coming round to shelter your head in the crook of his neck and cover your ears as he shoots off a few quick rounds. Looking back, you're met with a smoking gun and an empty chamber, plus six new holes in the last six targets you've spent twenty minutes trying not to miss. You roll your eyes and he tucks the gun away in your case lying just off to the side, but even though he's bracing the small of your back as he does so he never lets go of you completely.

"Alright, Sera. You win."

"I win, mmh? Win what?" He purrs into your skin, nosing your cheek just until you turn your head and find your lips barely a hair's breadth from one another. You really have no idea what your voice alone does to him--nor how lost he could get in your eyes and your warm breath on his skin.

"You win....twenty minutes. You can do whatever you want with me for twenty minutes." You whisper back, quiet and soft like you're afraid people will hear you. All your secrets are safe with him, though. They might be the only ones he can keep.

"Anything?"

"I'm all yours, Luis."

Those words could very well be a siren song to him, they're almost toxic in the way they singe their way through his veins and blur any sound thoughts from his conscience. But even poison would taste sweet if he drank it from you, and when he closes that distance to kiss you, that's all he tastes on your tongue. Sweetness.

"I could do damage in ten. You're generous, amor."

His heart soars as you lean in for him again, lips chasing his like that one kiss wasn't enough for you. Usually it's him that's doing the chasing, that's begging not to be let go, praying he's going to be held for longer than a second--you fill that need like it's as easy as breathing, so maybe you're not quite as poisonous as he might've thought. Loving anyone is dangerous for him...especially when he's so quick to realize it's really love, and not just lust.

Time stands still in those heated presses of mouth to mouth, breathing fresh life into his lungs, yet every other moment seems to blur together before he can try to hold it in place. Your clothing spills over your shoulders and down your thighs, bare skin meeting his palms as he vainly tries to consume as much of you as he can. How desperate he is to lower his head and fall to his knees before you, but you pull his face closer to share another kiss instead--and how could he deny you? This prize is meant to be his, but he gets so much more out of allowing you total control over his body.

Luis wouldn't have thought you could get cuter than that, but the desperate paw of your hands at his belt and the strain for more kisses blows that assumption right away. This clearly isn't a one-way street, you've been craving him just as much as he has you. Maybe this is what you were hoping for. Maybe this is what you've been building up to all this time, and why you've made him spend so much time here just to watch your hands fiddle with the trigger of your gun. He'd like to imagine you were envisioning it was him, and based on the confident way you grab hold of him under his jeans, he was right.

"We're short on time, Luis. Let's make this quick." Your lips against his ear as you stroke him feels like a rebirth, his knees buckling and his eyes halfway to rolling back in his head. How can you make him so weak? There's part of him that wishes it wasn't so, but another part shines through in his wobbly grin, one that whispers out 'I want more of you'.

The tips of his fingers part your kiss and dip into your mouth, your tongue like velvet as you suck down on each one. He just needs them wet but you go further; you lap up every ounce of him so all that remains is you. Your scent, your taste, your touch--much like what you do to him each time you brush by, your presence like golden light he can't help himself from basking in, and himself a heathen that craves your glow over salvation.

And as he pushes each one inside, your nails bite into his bare shoulders at the ache, the stretch ripping a gasp out of your lungs that soon dulls into the sweetest whines Luis has ever heard. You're so eager in your touch yet overwhelmed every time he indulges you, so he expects as much when his hand retracts and he replaces it by guiding the tip to your center. Were you really just pretending to be annoyed by him all this time?

Maybe some of it was real, surely, he knows himself well enough to anticipate it. But all of it is called into question when you grab his hips forward, forcing him to yield to your heat when he's entering you too slow for your taste. Now it's his turn to cry out, each breath stumbling on its way out while you pant and press your lips to his throat, his hips sunk all the way down to meet flush with yours. He must be so deep you can feel him in your stomach, and your crooning voice gasping about how big he is reassures him so. Moving feels almost impossible now, and yes, now that he's gotten this far he'd adore nothing more than to just stay in place and bask in your warmth forever. But you're so needy for him it seems, and the last thing he'll do is disappoint you--and that's what draws him back and pushes his hips forwards, your squeaky moans of ecstasy dragging out that animalistic pace he's been keeping locked up for ages.

"Imagine how much trouble we'd get in if Leon found out," He pants with a chuckle, hurrying his thrusts as the urgency of time finally settles on his shoulders.

"I really don't wanna think about Leon right now," You breathe right back, keening out a whine as your body adjusts to both the intrusion and the force of Luis slamming you back against the wood-grain countertop ad nauseum. As childish a thought as it is, he feels a smirk return as he thinks "good". As great as he is, there's a few things Luis would rather not share with that criminally handsome American if he can help it--and you're one of them.

"How's that feel, mi vida?" The sloppy, thumping rhythm of his belt buckle hitting the counter and your body clinging to every drag drowns out any half-whimper of an answer you give, your breathing peppered by echoes of his name and curses that would even make himself blush. Luis brushes a bit of your hair from your cheek and cups it with a ginger firmness, the gesture melting you in his palms as you meet his eyes and think of nothing else but him. Whatever the answer is, he can't imagine a string of flowery words as good as seeing you come undone in front of him. "Feels like a victory to me."

Your groan follows his smug comment either out of indignation or lust, if it even matters. But he's already getting close and he's praying you are too, if for no better reason than his own desire to feel you grip him so hard he bruises as you meet your end. That would be quite the way to show off. And when that blinding pleasure soon overcomes both of you and culminates in a kiss, one so much deeper that means more than either of you are willing to admit, that's when a fresh feeling of pride surges inside Luis as he hears the elevator doors swish open behind him--along with a low, soft inhale of breath being sucked through one's teeth in shock.

#luis serra #luis serra navarro #luis serra x reader #luis serra navarro x reader #gn!reader #spicy writing #re4make #resident evil #ellie writes #anons

[denaliwrites]

Night of Long Fangs

Peter Vincent x Fem!Reader

Summary: (18+) You accidentally get sprayed with (fake) blood during rehearsals and Vincent has a... reaction.

Soundtrack: The Night of Long Fangs by Mikolai Stroinski

Warnings: Blood, in a vampire way, but then also in a kinky way. Smut Adjacent. Not really a Virgin Kink, but like. Mentions of it. Light choking. The absolute devastation that is the fact that I couldn't find a gif of Peter Vincent saying "I'm gonna pop your cherry."

Requests: Open!

You shouldn't have even been in range of the damned spray -- you'd been carefully placed on the stage specifically to avoid it. You were meant to be the virginal sacrifice, pure and dressed in pristine, glowing white. It wasn't meant to be tarnished until the end of the second act, and only by incredibly specific dyes designed not to stain.

"Cut!" you heard the sharp yell, but it was hard to focus when you could feel and see that you looked like a victim of Michael Myers.

Vincent walked over to you, looking... well, you couldn't quite decipher the expression he wore. He looked annoyed, somewhat, but you knew it wasn't at you. You'd done nothing wrong. He may have a sharp temper, but even he had to know it wasn't your fault, right?

Even through your attempts to convince yourself, you were surprised when he spoke and it wasn't filled with frustration or worse.

"Are you okay?" he asked instead, and you noted that his voice seemed oddly... choked? Strained?

"I... yeah. It's... it's, y'know, harmless... but thanks for asking." You gave him a smile that you hoped wasn't too obviously dismissive, while still trying to hint that he could leave now if he wanted.

Instead, his hands came up to your shoulders, brushing red-soaked strands of hair back to fall limply down your back. Those hands hovered, little more than a hair's breadth away from touching you. You could feel their heat, warming your mostly bare skin.

"M-Mister Vincent," you stammered.

He shushed you gently. "Just Vincent is fine."

"Vincent," you tried again.

He shushed you again. "May I?"

"May you what?" you asked him, staring up at him with wide eyes.

"Do this." Without another word, he carefully ushered you behind the stage, away from any wandering eyes. You realized very quickly that he'd herded you to a quiet corner, where the two of you were utterly alone. You couldn't hear anything from the stage, or from backstage, or outside. It was like you were in a bubble.

"Vincent..." you gasped, as his hands sought out your breasts, made fuller by the pushup bra you were forced to wear with your costume. You didn't stop him, and the moment his hands made blessed contact you whimpered.

"You look so beautiful," he moaned, leaning forward, effectively pinning you to the wall. He nuzzled into your throat, breathing deep before his tongue struck out, leaving a long smear of red where a big globule of the fake blood had landed and half-dried.

A shiver ran down your spine, and a quaking moan escaped your lips.

"Oh, make that sound for me again, love," he purred, his hands circling your neck and spreading the red all over. You moaned again as he squeezed, ever so slightly, and he let out a breathy chuckle in delight. "Oh, does the pretty little 'virgin' like being choked?"

You couldn't respond -- not verbally, anyway -- because one of his hands wrapped so snugly around your throat, while the other trailed ever downwards, pausing to give your breast a squeeze before it made its way under your dress, finding your cunt like a bloodhound on the trail. His fingers met your heat, eliciting a whimper that you could see Vincent found beautiful.

"Like music," he chuckled, leaning in to roughly kiss your bloodstained lips, his own working eagerly to smear the blood still on your face. "Sing for me again, angel."

And sing for him you did, for the next half hour while he ravaged you, blood-soaked as you were.

#peter vincent x reader #peter vincent x you #peter vincent fanfic #fright night #fright night fanfic #david tennant

[imarvelatthestars]

I saw you reblogged some prompts. Could I be so bold as to request:

❛ you're mine. you've always been mine. ❜ with Tai please 🥰

my husband my husband my husband, sev i love you so dearly for requesting this

instead of doing homework, i am writing a lil drabble for my man & you can't stop me

18+ Tai filth below the cut

He must feel lonely sometimes, you realize. He once had so many brothers, now there's really only you, and Cody if you're being generous. Perhaps that's why he does this, why he buries himself in your warmth, in your arms, nuzzles his nose into your pulse point, and takes whatever you will give him.

"That's it," he grunts into your neck, his hips slowly and steadily rocking into yours. "Ngh, you're so, so good t' me, sweetheart."

You secretly love it when he gets like this, when he rolls you onto your side and props your knee upon his waist, and goes so slow, so strong, always giving and taking and lavishing you with his affection. A tongue across your collarbone, his teeth at your throat, his heavy exhalations on your skin as he rocks and moans and, sometimes, even begs.

You choke on your own breath when his fingers slip between you and catch on your clit, the broad, rough pads of his fingers always stimulate you just right.

"Say it again," he asks. "Please."

And you've never been able to deny him anything.

You want to whisper it in his ear, but the position isn't right for it, so you settle instead for resting your forehead on his, inhaling the very air that stirs in his lungs. And you smile.

"You're mine, baby." His moan turns into a wail and in an instant, he's thrusting into you harder and faster than before, and you can hardly catch your breath. "Always. Always been, been mine! Fuck!"

He's so close, and he's dragging you over the edge with him, desperate and hot and all-encompassing.

"Tai, Tai, baby, so close."

He rolls you onto your back now, and takes your other leg in hand so he can spread it as far as you can stretch, so you'll make room for all of him, those big, wide shoulders, the hefty weight of his stomach, the breadth of his thighs.

"Again," he says, and it's something between a demand and a request.

Your legs are beginning to shake. A scream is building up beneath your sternum, taking all its energy from the coil of interstellar pleasure pooling between your legs. You can barely keep your eyes open. "Tai-"

"Again. C'mon."

Fingers tangle in the sleep shirt rucked halfway up his torso, wrap around the back of his neck to drag him even closer, to egg him on. "You'vealwaysbeenmine, fuckfuckfuck, Tai, please!"

He comes first. He punches himself so deep inside you that it takes your breath away, and then he's everywhere, hot and wet, shaking so hard you're half convinced he'll keel over in a second. It takes him a moment to compose himself and recover, but when he does, he looks down at you with those big, kaf brown eyes, and he smiles that smile that always makes your heart skip a beat. You can see the unshed tears caught in his lashes.

Even as he softens inside you, he still rocks his hips forward, still tries to give you what you need even when his body is spent. He runs his hands up the backs of your thighs and keeps you spread apart for him as he leans down and captures your mouth in perhaps the most chaste, but most romantic kiss he's ever given you.

"You love me?"

You nod eagerly. "You know I do."

Your body spasms when his thumb passes through your lips and rubs a perfect circle around your clit. Tai smiles, but it's mischievous now, sparkling with that bit of confidence he didn't have earlier. "Then let me take care of you, my love."

And he does.

tai taglist: @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @multi-fan-dom-madness @deejadabbles @moodymisty @rain-on-kamino @temple-elder @wanderer-six @jambolska-grozdova @bambambunny @andrakass2 @wings-and-beskar @arandomnerdsblog578 @roadara23 @wizardofrozz @kakashibabe02 @sev-on-kamino

#well. back at it again at the krispy kreme #tai x reader #clone trooper tai x reader #yes this is part of the tai saga. probably somewhere between the 4th and 6th chapters? loosely? #anyways thinking about big boy tai again. that's probably the mantra of 2023 tbh #this also was not edited. it just kinda came out of me (lol)

[certifiedskywalker]

Aōhon - Daemon Targaryen

Eventually he tells you what "jaelan ao bisa ñāqatubis se tolvie ñāqatubis" means. "I want you this morning and every morning."

Teeth nipped at the lobe of your ear, soft in the sharpness. Pleasure in the pain. You hummed at the tingling that traveled down your spine and the sound encouraged your biter. His teeth pulled then, and your hum grew louder.

“I woke this morning just a little younger,” he murmured, voice low, weighted with intention.

“A tourney win will do that to you,” you replied, turning from your side to your back. 

The sheets, rumpled and lightly warmed beneath you, bunched further about your bare body as you moved. Daemon cared little for the extra fabric, pushing it aside with an eager hand. He replaced its weak heat with the flames of his flesh. With his hand set beside your head, he held himself up, smiling face peering down at you, eyes aglow with mischief.

You felt the corners of your mouth quirk up at the sight. “What is it?”

“Iksā gevie,” he replied, “jaelan ao bisa ñāqatubis se tolvie ñāqatubis.”

The language sounded like a song falling from his lips. A perfect melody when paired with the tenderness that lightened his dark eyes. You reached a lazy hand up and grazed your fingertips along his hairline, the high peak of his cheek. His skin was warm to the touch, the fire in his blood. Your fingers gave pause only at the flush of pink at his mouth.

“I do not know High Valyrian as you do, but I think I grasp the sentiment.” You ran your thumb over the curve of his bottom lip, as if tracing the edge of a flower petal. Daemon did not miss a moment. He tilted his head forward and his teeth caught the tip of your thumb.

His tongue licked at it before he released you. “Nyke could bodmagho ao. I could teach you.”

“Ao,” you echoed the word, “ao is 'you,' yes?”

“See,” he leaned in close, his breath tickling your neck, “you’re already learning.”

Daemon lingered a moment, eyes flicking across your face, before he leaned down further to capture your lips with his. The arm he used to brace himself sunk slightly, so his chest pressed against yours. Heat surrounded you then, all Daemon and all delicious. To hold it and him closer, you let your hands wander.

Eager fingers pressed and pulled, dancing along Daemon’s muscled form. His taut neck was first before you pushed down to his shoulders, earning a soft gasp. He tilted his head up, which left your lips lonely and caused you to open your eyes.

“Sorry, my love,” you pardoned, retracting your hands as Daemon moved to sit up. His pale back was to you then. As was the large, achingly purple bruise spanning the breadth of his shoulders. You cocked your head to the side to study its shape. “It looks like a sideways Westeros.”

Daemon laughed, then promptly winced. “It’s better than before.”

“Before,” you hummed, sitting up alongside him with your hand brushing down his spine. “Last night, you mean?”

A brow raised and crooked smile on his lips, Daemon turned his head to look at you. There was knowing in his eyes and you could see him remembering the evening past, the tourney, that post-victory fervor. He could barely keep his hands off of you on the ride back to Dragonstone. Luckily, Caraxes was a steady flier.

“Last night was better in other ways.”

He leaned towards you and pressed his lips to your forehead. You drew in a long, contented breath at the feeling and the heat. When he pulled away, you pushed back, hands reaching again. They stopped only when your fingers found his. You watched them intertwine, flesh against flesh, in a softer way than they did last night.

Your eyes lifted from your joined hands to Daemon’s face. “Do you still feel younger or has the ache stolen that from you?”

Daemon hummed as you brushed stray strands away from his face with your free hand. He leaned into the touch before he moved quickly towards you, hand still holding yours. He led and leaned you back towards the head of the bed. Pillows greeted your guided fall and Daemon held himself above you once more, pinning your clasped hand by the side of your face. He stooped down and nipped at your lip.

“Ñuha jorrāelagon, nothing could steal it from me,” he kissed you, hard and fast, “as part of it comes from you.”

He pursed his lips lightly as he watched you react to his words. You gave him a closed-lip smile and let your love for him pour out of your eyes. It felt like you were crying, but your cheeks remained dry. Though, as if he saw some phantom tears, Daemon leaned down to kiss them clear. His lips pressed to both of your cheeks before he claimed your neck.

“Ao,” you breathed, “what is 'yours' in Valyrian?”

Daemon pulled his face from the junction of your neck and shoulder to smile down at you.

“Aōhon.”

“Aōhon,” you echoed, holding his gaze with yours. You tipped your chin up towards his, a silence ask. Daemon answered with a kiss.

#High Valyrian #is Daemon's love language #fight me #daemon targaryen #daemon #targaryen #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen imagines #daemon targaryen fic #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen x reader #bed sharing #morning after #morning after fluff #sharing a bed #the house of the dragon #house of the dragon #hotd #got #game of thrones #house targaryen #caraxes #dragons #game of thrones fanfiction #got fanfiction #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction

[ragingdumpsterfire]

Delsin Rowe x Juno Moore | infamous Second Son OC | 18+ ish, implied smut

____________________

Juno gazed for a moment out over the city, as lights began to twinkle in the rosy sheen of the sunset, sounds of busy people heading home in the distance. Delsin happily worked on his burrito, foil wrapper crinkling with each bite, feet swinging over the edge of the billboard ledge. Juno was too enraptured with the sunset to notice the way Delsin’s gaze darted to her, then back to the sunset. She sighed happily as she leaned back, resting her arms behind her head.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?”

“Yeah”, came the reply, soft, hardly above a whisper.

Juno glanced over, meeting Delsin’s gaze directly. Somewhere deep inside ignited as she fell into the way his eyes burned in deepest shades of chestnut and cinnamon, shades of home. They were the first tinges of autumn wind after the heat of a never ending summer sun, the warmth of a cup of her favorite tea, the way his touches trailed waves of heat wherever his skin met hers, something raging and burning behind it. The way he was touching her now, shoulder brushing against her, body heat mixing.

“You’re staring,” Delsin murmurs, the corner of his mouth betraying the beginnings of a grin.

“So are you.”

His gaze falters, and he turns to look at the sunset, smiling to himself. There was something devious in that smile, something dangerous. The way he glanced over at her from the corner of his gaze, eyebrow cocked as he mindlessly ran his tongue over his pointed canine.

“So, you see something you like?”

Juno rolled her eyes, resting her hands on the billboard’s ledge and leaning forward to look down on the city, trying to hide the creeping flush on her face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy.”

There was a stillness punctuated by a car horn or the passing train, people strolling along to a restaurant, seagulls off in the distance somewhere, a dog barking in some park. Quiet enough to hear an amused snort from Delsin.

“Yeah, actually, I would.”

Juno glanced back at Delsin, and that gnawing, glowing feeling returned. He was so close to her, right there, leaning in towards her, just a breadth away. His eyes darted down to her lips, back to her eyes, dark and fully blown, anticipation written in his gaze.

“I think,” he breathed out, eyes narrowing, “that you like it when I stare at you.”

There was no denying it, it filled Juno with a burning thrill knowing that his eyes followed her as she walked away, putting away the memories of her curves for later, or the way she’d catch him softly staring across the coffee shop as she chatted with customers. She knew those brown eyes would be always be there, a constant in the flowing pass of time. And now he was here in front of her, fingertips brushing against hers,

the only thing holding him back a thin, wavering sense of hesitancy. And that was rapidly washing away. She could see it in his eyes, the temptation of the feelings burning between them proving to be too much to bear.

“And what if I do like it?”

Her reply was soft, barely a whisper, but it was more than enough for Delsin. Lips crashed into lips, his kisses needy and hungry as he gave in to the game of chase that they had been playing. Juno ran her hands up Delsin’s neck, fingers tangling in the hair sticking out from under his beanie, pulling him into her.

A growl rose through Delsin, and he pulled away for air, leaving Juno panting, foreheads touching as they let their hands wander each other’s bodies. Delsin moved his hands to her waist, fingers brushing up under the back of her shirt, eliciting a soft gasp from Juno, her back arching under his touch.

“Then…maybe we should do something about that.”

Delsin moved his lips to her neck, planting slow, tortuous kisses around the point where her pulse raced, where streaks of pinks, reds, and lavender blossomed, an unconscious side effect of her conduit abilities. She didn’t care, at least not right now. She softly moaned out an affirmation, lost in the way his hands burned hot against her back, the way he always smelled like he had spent the night at a bonfire. It was intoxicating, clouding Juno’s mind and flooding her senses.

Delsin murmured something soft, something about his apartment being nearby, lips pressed under her jawbone, fingers reaching upwards, causing her shirt to ride up with them. The contrast of the chilly Seattle evening and his warmth caused her skin to prickle, and she wanted him closer. She wanted him all over her now.

Delsin’s fingers move dangerously close to slipping underneath her bra, sliding forward over her ribcage. Hesitation, or maybe the need to torture her slowly, was keeping him from moving further, and she needed him, she needed so much more.

“What about—what about right here, on the roof?”

Juno’s words come out like a gasp, pleading and needy. Those dark eyes pull back to look at her, a flicker of understanding passes, and he grins—that crooked, knowing smile that would get him anything or anyone in the world, anything he wanted, and here he was with her, all hers for tonight, all hers—and without a moment lost, Delsin has Juno in his arms, her legs wrapped around him, hands holding her up by her thighs as they melt into one another again, mouths frantic to forever write the taste of the other into memory, as they lose clothing to the night, and themselves in each other.

#man this beat me up #did not have a good day yesterday and it just wasn’t working #today is better and I feel better about this now #anyway here’s wonderwall #Juno Moore #infamous second son #infamous oc #Delsin x Juno #my writing #this is canonically after the last thing I wrote about them flirting in the coffee shop 😂 #they never made it to the apartment

[thedarkestgreys]

"don't go. stay" FEXI 🥺

“Baby, yo’ moms is gon’ murk my ass if she finds me here,” her boyfriend whispers as Lexi helps him climb in through her bedroom window.

It’s just after two o’clock in the morning, Suze is asleep in her bedroom down the hall and Lexi is taking advantage of Cassie still being off at college. Deep down she knows Fezco has a point - her moms really taken to him over the last year but that doesn’t mean she’d be too keen on Lexi sneaking him in through her window.

Despite the fact she’s dating a drug dealer, Lexi’s never really done anything bad. Always a good girl, always following the rules and with the end of her Senior year of high school on the horizon, she feels justified in throwing some caution to the wind. It’s not like she’ll get grounded for this - her mom knows they’re having sex, she’s the one that made sure Lexi got on birth control pretty much as soon she walked back in the house after their first date last year, all heart eyes and giddy excitement over a boy for the first time ever.

“Only if we get caught,” she murmurs, sliding the window pane back down and flicking the lock.

Fezco sits on her little loveseat in order to take his Jordan’s off, untying the shoes before carefully placing them beside the end of her bed. His black beanie comes off next, tossed carelessly on to the seat beside him as he slips the heavy chain he wears outside his hoodie off, before removing that item as well. Lexi leans back against the metal baseboard of her twin sized bed, her sheep printed sleep set exposing her long legs and midriff to her boyfriend's hungry gaze.

He can’t seriously be concerned about being caught when he’s looking at her like that, now can he?

“Guess I was wrong,” Fez gruffs a little laugh. “You gon’ kill me first Lex. How you out here lookin’ like a fuckin’ snack in sheep pajamas?”

Lexi looks down at her favorite night clothes and shrugs. Honestly, they’re probably due for retirement, since she’s been wearing them since seventh grade.

“They’re old,” she mutters, tugging the shorts down a little to cover her ass better. “If I had known you were coming over, I would have picked something different.”

Fezco quirks an eyebrow. “You the one that invited me up shorty.”

She feels her face flush. “Well yeah, after you said you were done working and nearby.”

Fezco hefts himself off the loveseat and closes the short gap between them swiftly, something almost predatory in his eyes as he presses her into the cool metal of her bed frame. His eyes stare down at her with a look that's equal parts lust and love and Lexi feels her knees grow weak.

“Just wanted to see you for a moment ma,” Fez rasps, voice hitting his lower register and instantly making her turn into goo. “Figured you’d sneak out the front door for a few minutes. Didn’t really think you’d have my ass climbin’ through yo’ window.”

Lexi gulps, Fezco’s mouth a hair's breadth away from hers. All she’d need to do is push up just slightly from where he has her caged against her bed in order to finally meet her mouth with his. Instead she remains frozen as her boyfriend lifts his hand to push her hair off her cheek, his large hand coming to rest firmly against the side of her neck.

“There a reason you invited me up, Lex?” he murmurs, lips barely brushing against hers.

Her reasoning hadn’t been all innocent, to be frank. Her uncomfortably wet panties were proof enough.

“I think you know,” she finally manages to whisper back, finding the strength to press herself up on her toes ever so slightly in order to capture his mouth with hers.

The hand resting against her neck instantly moves to grip to back of it, hauling her all the way up against him. Fezco parts her mouth with his tongue, Lexi allowing him to swallow down the moan she lets out.

He parts them with a harsh breath. “Gotta be a good girl and keep it quiet baby, or Imma have to go. I don’t wanna get you in trouble with Suze.”

Frantically Lexi shakes her head. “I’ll be a good girl,” she nearly begs, almost delirious with want. Lexi can feel the way Fezco’s hard cock is pressing into her lower stomach, and more than anything she’d like to feel it pressing into something else. “Don’t go. Stay. I can be quiet.”

Her boyfriend smirks down at her. “Doubt that girl, you get loud as fuck. But I’m down to give it a try if yo’ ass is.”

#bex writes things #Fexi #thank u nonny sry for the wait!

[findmeinasunshower]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 3: 𝑫𝒊𝒏 𝑫𝒋𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏

word-count: 1.6k

summary: Din Djarin x senator!Reader. this is purely fluff.

warnings: small mentions of past injury. 

Part 1   ~    Part 2

You’re pulled into consciousness the next morning by the feel of Din’s warm arms wrapped around you. His breath ghosts over your ear in soft puffs with his every breath and a feeling of safety washes over you at the sensation. You’ve never shared a bed with anyone before — it’s a testament to the love and trust you hold for Din that you don’t wake up in a panic.

As if sensing you awaken, Din’s arms tighten around you and he presses a kiss to the shell of your ear. “Good morning, senator.”

You smack his arm where it’s banded across your stomach. “Rude.”

“Mm, sorry.” Din presses closer until you can feel the unarmored breadth of him flatten against your back. He breathes in your ear: “Good morning, orar.” You shudder as he presses another kiss to your ear, then to your jaw below it.

You curl your fingers around his forearm in an attempt to ground yourself, but can’t stop yourself from arching back into his touch. “How’s your neck?” you manage to gasp out.

“No pain,” he breathes between the kisses he lays down your neck. “Thank you.”

You flip over so you’re facing him, and are immediately filled with a bubbling glee to see Din’s face again. “Well, I am a pretty good nurse,” you tease and flick the edge of the bacta patch on his neck with your finger. Din smiles down at you, crooked yet sincere, and reaches out to interlace your fingers with his. You snuggle closer, lips turning up at the state of his hair, looking like a bird’s nest after a good night’s sleep.

After making sure Din wasn’t going to bleed out in the hull, you dragged yourself up to the cockpit and plotted the journey back to Coruscant. You then forced the Mandalorian into a well-deserved fifteen minutes in the refresher before the two of you collapsed into bed in the captain’s quarters.

Now, feeling much more alive than you did twelve hours ago, you reach out and begin to reorder his hair with his hands. Din sits still and allows you to separate the soft curls with your fingers before letting them fall back into place...and after everything you’ve been through with him, this moment, laying in bed with him while he watches you fix his bedhead, feels much more intimate than anything you’ve ever experienced before.

“I knew you were handsome,” you whisper. “But I didn’t realize just how much.” You watch with pleasure as Din’s cheeks flush at the comment. “A blushing Mandalorian?” you tease. “I’m pretty sure that’s against your Creed.”

“Not with my riduur, it isn’t,” Din rumbles, and your heart warms at the title. “Besides, it’s not something I usually have to worry about.”

“You’re not used to someone seeing you,” you say. “What other kind of faces do you make?”

Din raises his eyebrows he thinks, and you smile and file away the fact that he has smile lines away for later. “I...bite my lip a lot when I think.”

You laugh and cuddle closer to him, pressing your forehead against his. “Show me.” Din scowls even as he goes to comply, but you lean in and catch his lips with yours before he can close his mouth. You kiss him lazily and he responds in turn, no intention behind where you’re going beyond simply enjoying each other’s company. By the time Din pulls away to rest his chin on the top of your head, you’ve committed the feel and taste of him to memory.

He’s shaking slightly in your arms when you tug him closer, and you press a kiss to his collarbone in thanks for the vulnerability he’s shown you in the past twenty-four hours. For the gift he decided to bestow upon you.

You bury your nose into the front of his tunic and inhale deeply, relaxing at the familiar smell of your detergent and, most distinctly, of Din. Of musk and machine oil, and the taste of copper on your tongue that always coincides with safety.

And just like that, you drift back to sleep.

~*~

You take your time getting back to Coruscant — it’s a full three days before you drop out of hyperspace on approach of the planet’s atmosphere.

You look at Din the second the stars stop warping around you and ask: “How do I look?”

He takes a moment to finish toggling a few dials in preparation for landing before looking at you. Even through the helmet, you can feel the slow drag of his eyes from the top of your head to your toes and back again. He takes his time looking over the traditional robes of your planet, the hint of makeup to cover your split lip, and the carefully done updo you styled in the refresher this morning.

“Beautiful, as always,” is what he settles on before turning his visor back to the incoming planet. A part of you mourns the loss of his natural voice, but hearing a compliment come through Din’s familiar modulator still makes you shift delightedly. “I don’t know why you ask,” he continues.

The first thing you say when you see the planet’s surface approaching is: “Leia’s going to kill me.”

“Not if you show up with me. I’m very intimidating.”

He looks at you when you reach over to pat his beskar chest fondly. “Yes, you are. But you’re cute if you think Leia is intimidated by anything.”

Although you can’t see it, Din blinks once before sighing and turning back to the controls. “Point taken.”

You were right: The second the ship’s ramp is low enough for Senator Leia Organa to step up on, she’s stalking up to you with a look of righteous fury and barely-concealed fear on her face. Din steps aside so your friend can storm into your space, and you shoot him a look of betrayal. He shrugs. Leia grasps your shoulders and looks over you with shrewd brown eyes too quick to catch on the hastily-covered gash below your lip. Her eyes widen at the sight, and you stumble a little when she pulls you into a tight embrace.

You reach up and pat her immaculate braids reassuringly. “I’m okay.”

“Liar.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.”

“She is.”

You and Leia pull apart when Din chimes into the conversation, and he shifts his feet under both of your stares. “Senator (l/n) was very brave and managed to escape her attackers multiple times before I got there. The split lip is from where she collided with my armor when I stopped too quickly.”

Leia straightens her spine and nods. “And you, Mandalorian? Are you alright?”

Din dips his head in a nod. “Nothing I can’t survive in order to keep the Senator safe.”

You fight the blush that wants to come up at the double meaning in his words but manage to school your face back into neutrality when Leia looks back at you. “Thank you very much, Mandalorian. You’ve lived up to my brother’s words well.” Din nods once again. Leia looks back at you and takes your hand. “Now, it’s about time you—”

“—If you don’t mind, Senator Organa, I’d like a moment with Senator (l/n),” Din interrupts, nodding his head toward you.

Leia blinks. “Of course.” She shoots you a suspicious look before letting go of your hands. “I’ll meet you at the speeders, okay?” You nod and squeeze her fingers once more before watching her glide back down the ramp, much more graceful now than she was on her approach.

Din turns away the second Leia’s feet touch the landing pad, and you’re quick to follow after him. He’s silent as he leads you out of the hull and past the cockpit before turning the corner into the captain’s quarters.

You frown and follow him into the small room. “What—” You’re cut off when Din suddenly yanks off his helmet and pulls you in for a deep, deep kiss. He traps you back against the refresher door and kisses the air out of your lungs until your legs are so weak the only reason you’re still standing is because of your tight grip around his neck. Your Mandalorian has definitely learned a lot in the last few days, and you hum in satisfaction when you realize he’s making sure that you won’t forget the feel of him. The taste of him.

All you can do is hold on.

After not long enough, but too long not to be suspicious, Din pulls away. You cling to his broad shoulders as you catch your breath, reveling in the feel of the warm air between your two faces. Din licks his lips and gives you one last heated look before extracting himself from your arms and putting his helmet back on.

You find yourself trying to remember how to breathe.

You just manage to find your feet again when Din presses a small cloth bag into your hand, and you realize it’s the dirty clothes you’d been kidnapped in—his excuse for wanting a word with you. He dips his helmet to rest against your forehead once more before promising: “I’ll see you tonight for evening check.”

You nod, and you swear you can feel electricity spark from where his cool helmet touched your skin. “See you tonight,” you repeat.

You do not look back as he opens the door and walks with you off of the ship, handing the bag to one of your assistants before making sure you’re safe with Leia in the back of the covered speeder. Your friend gives him a knowing look just before the speeder pulls away, and Din finds himself swallowing down the intimidation.

That night, he doesn’t emerge from your quarters after evening check.

#findmeinasunshower #sunshowerimagines #the mandalorian #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars fanfiction #leia organa #leia organa fanfiction #princess leia #princess leia fanfiction #fandom imagine #imagine #x reader #x you #fanfiction

[luveline]

can we pls get some more soft remus with just tooth rotting fluff??

basically baby fever universe ♡ fem!reader | 0.6k words

You hold your breath as Remus' arm hugs behind your shoulders, his hand coming to rest above your heart loosely. 

It's new to you for him to be so close. For anyone. You want it so badly it aches, like you're mourning that he's going to pull away before he does.

He draws shapes into your skin. It doesn't tickle but it gives that same feeling, a lightness that has you suppressing a giggle. Your exhale sounds pretty blissful as a consequence, and Remus hears it. 

"What?" he asks, brown eyes dark in the sunlight streaming in through the open window. 

Your legs are pulled up where his are kicked out. You let your thigh drop onto his lap and move that tiny bit closer, gazing up into his face with a small smile playing over your lips. 

"What's that look mean?" he asks, insistent. 

"This is nice." Your hair rubs against his clothed shoulder. 

"What? The movie?"

"No… Us. This is nice," you emphasise. You wrap both hands around his bicep tucked between your bodies and hug it to you. 

Remus looks very fond, suddenly. He's usually a short fall from unreadable, his impassive expressions both nerve-wracking an enchanting, so to see his affection so clearly is a heart-rending thing. You try not to blink as you take him in. 

"This is really nice," he agrees, the hand he's wrapped around your neck moving up, his fingers moving carelessly but never cruel over the hill of your cheek.

His touch lightens and your eyes close. It almost feels like the rain, his cool fingertips ghosting down your warm face. 

He stops his touching to lean in and kiss your cheek. He pulls back to take in the invisible mark he's left behind almost thoughtfully, pulling his arms away from you. 

You frown. "Where are you going?" you ask at his movements. 

Remus has back into the corner of the sofa. "Nowhere, baby," he says reassuringly. "Come here."

He opens his arms and makes grabbing hands until you're in reach. He's touching you as you draw closer, your hands and then your arms, your chest and down to your ribs, light and chaste touches until you're half sitting in his lap, your face encouraged into his collar. 

"This is nicer," he says. 

You hum. It's more than that. 

Remus rubs your back. You love how it feels and want him to feel just as treasured as you do, so you bring your hand to the neckline of his shirt and pet the only naked skin avaliable to you. You draw over the suggestion of his collar bones with a careful touch before slipping your hand under his shirt to stroke the nape of his neck, a slow back and forth. Soft hair under your fingers, you push your nails gently against his scalp and scratch delicately. 

He's putty underneath you. Relaxed, his soft abdomen pressed to yours, his hand sluggish where it loves the breadth of your shoulders. He chases a line down your spine and has to stop, shuddering as you card your hand through his hair.

"S'that feel nice?" you whisper. 

He only nods. You grin to yourself and press a smiling kiss to very bottom of his throat. 

"Your hair is so soft," you tell him.

His head tilts back into your hand, following your massaging unconsciously. 

"Don't fall asleep on me, handsome," you say. 

"You're on me," he argues, his voice thick. 

You continue to scratch his scalp lightly until he's dozing and find you can't blame him for it, stroking his lovely hair until your hand grows sloven and you're falling asleep too. 

#marauders era #marauders #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin imagine #x reader #marauder x reader

[frogsmulder]

Place of Worship

This is just me exorcising some demons and trying to break some writers block at the same time; 800 words; rated e; tagging @today-in-fic

Her skin is soft and smooth under his warm hands, gently pulling, pushing, kneading the muscles beneath. Sat at her feet, he has a glorious view of her curves silhouetted in the amber evening light. He starts with her calves, fingers wrapping around her legs with ease, moving upwards to squeeze her thighs before retreating lower like the backwash of a lulling tide. Again, his touch commands her–her response a slight moan or a twitch–and thickly he swallows, an ache swelling at his groin. Seeing with his fingers, he closes his eyes and holds a breath, rolling her thighs apart, anticipating the smell of her arousal. He isn't disappointed.

A quiet plea escapes her lips, the whisper of his name: "Mulder." Again: "Mullderr…"

His palms encasing her hips, he rubs them, caressing her as he slowly shuffles closer, leaning down to nuzzle her stomach. Against his stubble, her body is pliant, giving and tensing, rippling with shaky breath. A hand by her head, he stretches up to breathe in the scent at her neck. Following his lead, she arches beneath him, offering herself to his pleasure. Locking his lips around her clavicle he tastes the saltiness of her sweat, the sweetness of her skin in a way he makes sure she'll never forget. The spot he leaves is red, a sign of his love, a marking of his lust. He swipes his tongue over it, soothing the area and washing away his cardinal sin.

Her chest peaks by the brush of his knuckles around her breasts. Her nipples hardening with the promise of attention, she makes his mouth water more and his brain clouded; his only clear sight is her beauty captured in the curves of her body. With his thumb and forefinger he calls out to her, rolling her nipples, grazing their tops, capturing them between his lips. She replies with a gasp, another whimper; this conversation between them becomes heated. The pillowy weight of her breast lays against his palm, as if he can carefully sculpt her perfection between his bare hands. He presses gently into their cushion, testing, licking and nipping at her all the while. She's like a panacea, melting all of his corporal worries away, yet dangerously addictive, each taste making him hungrier, leaving him wanting more.

Slight fingers weave their way into his hair, at first holding him close, encouraging his appetite with ardour. He hummus as she pulls his hair, blood throbbing through his scalp and rushing to his cock. Against the swell of her chest, he nuzzles, feeling her quick breathing rise and fall. Her impatience growing, she guides him downwards, giving a command he happily obliges. He keeps his nose to her skin as his lips wander down to her mons. In his hands, he grasps again the soft, warm marble of her statue. Clutching and kneading her flesh, he grabs her ass, lifting her up to meet his baited breath.

The plush folds of her centre glisten, flushed and pink. Hovering a hair's breadth away, he takes a deep steadying breath, letting her intoxicating scent pull him under. Wrapping her thighs around his neck, she draws him closer. He spreads her lips with a stroke of his thumb, pressing into the crest of her clit, and then he repeats the motion again. As soon as his tongue touches her centre, she moans and he drowns in ecstasy and the pull of her muscles begging him to sate her. As if he was a blind man seeing only with touch, he follows the trails she creates in the wake of her quivering and pleas.

He watches her brows arch and her forehead crumple, her lips shifting from biting back to quiet "Oh," and "Please," and "Mulder." Flicking his tongue around her clit once more, he grasps her thigh by his head and encourages her with a squeeze.

"Scully, let go," he murmurs, smiling softly and squeezing again for emphasis, "I want to hear you moan."

Opening her eyes, she looks at him with a hint of a smirk, watching him as he lowers his mouth to her sex. Just before he can taste her, she teases, "Make me."

She makes him so hard with just two words, he desperately wants to stroke himself. Instead he settles for sliding up her body and palming her breast. "Like this?"

"More like this." Pulling at his fingers she lifts them to her mouth, closing her lips and sucking. Returning his hand to her breast, she lets the cool wetness coat her sensitive nipples, pinching. He suspects she does it only to toy with him, for his pleasure more than hers but he doesn't care when her breasts are in his hands and her cunt is under his tongue and her moans start filling the air. He builds her and builds her until she arches, clenches around his tongue and her heels dig into his back.

After a deep breath, he sighs. "God, Scully…" He moves up her body to meet her with a kiss. "You are so incredible."

"Yeah," she laughs with a light huff. "You too."

#I write it in two halves so tone might not be consistent but fight me #I was really going through something when I started this huh #msr #dana scully #the x files #fox mulder #xf fanfic #my fic

[jjungkooksthighs]

“You have five seconds to answer to me. I’m going to count, and you are going to obey. Do you understand me?” He bites out. It’s all she do to draw the letters out over his wrist with the fingers she has weakly pawing at it. His fingers twist her nipple in punishment. “I said that you’re going to speak, woman. Has your cunt made you so desperate that you can’t even think?” She fights for breath under his constricting digits around her neck, her airway partially closed under it as she struggles. She can’t even think about the pain in her chest, her mind benumbed by lack of blood flow. Finding thoughts now are second to impossible, and she knows that she’s going to end up on the floor by herself if he doesn’t give her a little bit of aid. Not that she deserved it. She’d taken her antics too far this time, and being edged and denied of him had been all the consequence she needed to open her eyes to that. “One.” He clicks his tongue. He must notice the way that color has begun to drain from her face, because he loosens his clutches around her throat. Though it is minimal, it is enough for her to summon more oxygen between her dried, parted lips. Immediately, the grey that had begun to fill her mind begins to dissipate. As if through a small spile, thoughts return to her. Her alpha watches some of the color return to her cheeks and only then does he go on. “Two.” The word makes her heart hammer in her chest, her lungs still trying to work oxygen through her still failing limbs. “Three,” his irises set in silver of hail as they pelt her with his disdain, his digits tugging mercilessly on her poor, darkened nipple. Pain shoots through her chest, but it is only temporary. The ache his ministration leaves lingers. His hand opens around her neck only so he can grab at the underside of her jaw and tilt it up so she is battered by the cold of his scowl.

“Four,” he vociferates, bringing her close so he can feel her heaving pants against his own skin. “Come on, whore. Run those lips for me. Give me your obedience, and I’ll consider letting you ride my leg while you watch me fuck my hand.”

A whimper leaves her, and she closes her eyes when she feels his breath against her neck, shaky and hot as it tickles her skin, his husky voice sending a tingle down her spine. She shivers, leaning into his touch like a starved pup. A low growl leaves him, his grip growing tighter on her jaw. Just as he's about to draw out the last number that would leave her crying on the floor, the words are out of her mouth. "N-no!" she shrieks. She tries to at least. All it comes out as is a small, weak protest. "n-no, s-sir.. y--you don't have to-" she gasps for air, desperate to try and douse the ire she'd ignited. "-t-tell me.. again. I-" she scooches forward as best as she can, her hands now gripping at the flesh on his thigh, as if doing so would help change or manipulate his thoughts, allowing some room for mercy. "you don't have to, sir.. i'll t-talk. i'll t-try.."

Her negation is oil for the fires of his anger. His fingers curl more forcibly around the flesh of her jaw as he sighs frustratedly, “No? I don’t think so.” He hovers ever nearer to her, her lips but a hair’s breadth away from his as he husks, “You do not get to say no to me after all that you have done. The only thing you should be doing is being obedient for me.”

By now, she had learned what he expected of her. So when the last word leaves his lips, she nods, “Y-yes, master.”

The shards of his eyes pierce hers as he studies her. “You requested me to repeat what I asked you earlier.”

He waits until she nods and gives a stuttered ‘yes.’

After that, he snorts as he answers, “I asked you if you knew how fucking pathetic you looked right now.” His fingers tighten around her jaw. “I told you that you’re afraid to let your other side out in fear that I will enjoy your wolf more than you. You didn’t say shit about either in response. All you can manage is my name. This, I cannot allow.”

#alpha jungkook asks