#the distinct sensation of the left side of my body melting

[wormsdyke]

just watched a tiktok zac oyama posted of the intrepid heroes gang in a casino and i had a seizure - which is not abnormal, i have epilepsy - but there was a moment there were my brain was going haywire and this was all i could see

[id: a photo of ally beardsley and zac oyama posing together. ally is wearing a navy blue adidas tracksuit, and zac is wearing a matching green tracksuit with sunglasses. end id]

#imaging if you will. intense audio distortion that sounds like a garbage disposal #literally glitchcore visual effects #the distinct sensation of the left side of my body melting #and this masterpiece of a photo. all at once #their power was simply too much for my brain to handle #tw: seizure #d20 #zac oyama #ally beardsley #intrepid heroes #orating!

[darklinsblog]

Neglect | Sandman Imagine

Summary: You and your husband Morpheus were never a conventional couple, but as the king returns from his imprisonment he seems to want to mend your relationship.

Pairing: Morpheus x Goddess! Reader

Requested: Yes

Morpheus and you were betrothed for millenniums, he didn’t agree to this marriage and he made that perfectly clear to you over and over. You were the Nordic Goddess of marriage and childbirth, Frea.

Which almost seemed like a cruel joke as your spouse would have mistresses left and right, he wouldn’t dream of touching you, you slept in separate rooms and in his you would hear and endless parade of women screaming your husband’s name.

It was hell, but you endured it because you were married and you could not disrespect your arrangement, even though Morpheus did at every chance he got.

Marriage actually meant something to you.

But it was as if he would act to deliberately disrespect you, to make you hate him, he wanted to break you, but you didn’t budge, you simply accepted him for who he was and did your best to fulfill your duties as queen.

The dynamics went on for 9,000 years, for most people it would be unthinkable, but the disrespect and hatred that your husband depicted had become so normalized in your brain it did not bother you anymore.

Against all odds you never had a lover, so you remained completely pure and honest to your oath, you were this clear, loving goddess as your husband succumbed to pleasure.

But everything changed as Morpheus disappeared for a hundred years, at first it didn’t worry you, it was very common in the King of Dreams to leave for days in seeking of a new mistress, but as years went by, you did fear the worst.

The kingdom slowly began to crumble at its core, feeling the notorious absence of the king. You continued to take care of the realm even as it was destroyed, you gave your subjects hope, and most of the people from the Dreaming decided to stay for you.

Because unlike Morpheus, his people did have a deep care and respect for you, and they were glad you were left as regent because you would take good care of them, even in times of need.

To be honest you lived that whole century in peace, at last you didn’t have to put up with constant abuses, you didn’t feel like you were unworthy, you did not spend countless nights wondering what had you done wrong, you slept in the peace and quiet of The Endless’ absence.

Until one day, he returned. You felt him again, it was one of the many things that you shared, you could perceive one another.

Yet, you didn’t run to encounter him, you simply went on with your activities as if nothing was happening, quietly programming yourself to hear his constant insults or intense stares.

You were working on the library, subconsciously hiding from Dream, you got completely caught up in your activities.

“Y/N?” You heard his distinctive voice behind you, you took a deep breath before meeting his gaze, prepared for the worst.

But you were greeted by an unknown image, Dream was looking down at you with tenderness and a glimpse of shame. What he did next, was unthinkable for the Endless you thought you knew.

He grabbed his arms around you and embraced you fully, he was holding you as close to his body as he was physically able. He took in your scent, burring his nose in the crock of your neck, causing goosebumps to rise in your skin at the unknown sensation.

Your body was rigid under his touch, while Morpheus seemed to melt at the mere contact of your skin.

He pulled away from you, still holding you by your waist, you rested your hands at either side of his forearms.

“I’m so happy to see you, Frea” you raised your brows, not being able to contain your surprise “I’m deeply sorry for my absence, but I was held captive… I could only think of you in the coldness of my isolation” he confessed, having you at the loss of words, his absence was explained but you could not make up the brutal chance in the man you wed.

“I know I have being the most disgusting and disrespectful spouse to you and I want to mend all the damage I inflicted on you. I wish to be the husband you deserved from the very start”

You blinked, taking in his words, you could tell he was speaking truthfully, you always had a way to know if he was lying or not. But all of this was a lot to take in.

“Say something, please…” he begged, you could see he was suffering with your silence, you did not want to punish him, it was just that this new version of Dream was everything you ever dreamt of, it was disruptive to have him standing in front of you, saying all this.

“I don’t know what to say Morpheus” you sincerely spoke. “I mean, just think of how we have lived this past 9,000 years… How do I know you are true and you would not run back to your old ways” he looked down, embarrassed.

You had all right to distrust him, in your place he wouldn’t know what to do.

“Because you were the only thing I was certain of during my imprisonment. I mean you kept our people here, you took care of the realm when you could have left”

He cupped your face in his hands, looking at you intensely, you had many chances to leave him and you did not.

“Tell me not even a part of you wishes that we fix this. That we live happily married like we were supposed to” you laughed, out of nervousness.

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted, Dream” you said, he wasted no more time and for the first time in history, Morpheus kissed his wife out of love and not obligation.

You fully gave in, melting in his touch at last, he sneaked his hands all over your body, stopping at your butt, his kiss became more and more intense, he squeezed your ass with both hands making you gasp at the feeling.

Morpheus had never touched you like this, with such urgency and lust, not even in your wildest dreams did you imagine your husband could be able of wanting you so badly.

It was addicting to feel wanted like this, to be handled with such expertise. You pulled away from his lips but Morpheus would not have it as he kissed your neck instead.

“Morpheus… we’re at the library”you breathlessly reminded him, you did not feel in the mood of being walked on a compromising situation.

Your husband groaned, understanding that he needed to stop. He smiled at you, taking your hand in his and practically dragging you out of the place.

“Morpheus, where are we going? You need to rebuild the Dreaming” you went on as you were dragged into the throne room, the doors closing behind you.

He pulled you into his chest, smirking as his hands went down your body painfully slow, this time lifting the fabric of your dress, exposing your skin.

Morpheus pulled your hair aside, kissing your shoulder blade up to your neck, stopping at your ear.

“We have a marriage to consummate first, my queen”

Shivers ran down your spine in excitement of the unknown, the only thing you had for certain was that you had a long night ahead of yourselves.

#the sandman comics #sandman imagine #sandman netflix #dream of the endless #morpheus dream #sandman x reader #tom sturridge x reader #tom sturridge #sandman shitpost #morpheus sandman #sandman smut #dark morpheus #morpheus smut #morpheus imagines #morpheus #sandman comics #the sandman #dream of the endless x reader

[pennylanewrites]

could you do 12 with goth!mikasa?

“I’m going to fucking ruin you.” + Mikasa Ackerman

cw: mean dom!mikasa, some biting, choking, clit slapping, public sex (no one sees), Mikasa has a strap-on, humiliation.

~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~

“I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

When you heard those words come out of her mouth, you didn’t think it would mean she would be dragging you all the way to the changing rooms. You thought it was something more along the lines of ‘I’ll punch you till your nose is broken.’ Truth be told, you were always really mean to Mikasa. The cliche of the popular mean girl and the goth chick.

Well, right now that goth chick is locking the door to the locker room and taking off your posh private college’s green and black tie. You would be lying if you said you didn’t have a huge crush on Mikasa, but it would harm your popularity, so you remained silent about it.

“You think you’re all that, don’t you?” She grins as she unbuttons your white collared shirt, letting it drop to the floor. She leans down, shimmying your skirt down your hips, lifting each of your legs so you can step out of it.

“Answer me.” She says through gritted teeth, hand wrapping around your throat, black fingernails digging into your skin.

“I-I don’t.”

“Who would have thought, the great queen bee would be at my mercy?”

“Shut up!” You blurt out, eyes growing wide as realization hits. Mikasa looks up at you with a surprised smile before she unclasped your bra, throwing it to the pile of discarded clothes.

“I’ve had enough of your shit for a long time,” she says, grip on your hair tight to pull you closer to her, “it’s time for you to get punished for it.”

“Wait-wait! What do you mean?” You gulp. Mikasa leans closer to you, making sure there isn’t a single centimeter between the two of you, and kisses your lips softly. You melt into the kiss immediately, hands wrapping around her neck before she slips her tongue in your mouth and you just let her. What would people think of you if they saw? Disgusting. Yet there you are, taking her college sweatshirt off, unclasping her bra, wasting no time.

“Okay, you had your fun. But I made a promise before, didn’t I?” She grins and turns around, opening what you assumed was her locker. She took her skirt off and you almost whine at her beautiful curves and the sight of her bare ass. You can’t believe she was going around with no panties on, even the mere thought brings a wet stain on your own underwear.

“What’s that?” Your eyes grow wide. You’re not stupid, you know it’s a strap-on. The only problem was that it was huge.

“Shh. No talking.” She orders as she ties the belt around her waist, coming over you to kiss your lips again. Her hands take off your underwear, letting the fabric fall on the floor. You shiver at the contact of her hand with your clit, but it feels oh-so-good, the way she’s so rough, doesn’t even care if you like it or if it hurts; spoiler alert, you love it.

Mikasa still has a hold around your throat as two of her fingers work their way into your tight hole, making your moans echo in the empty room. Her hold tightens, she wants to make sure there are some marks that your expensive concealer won’t cover. Black-stained lips meet your neck and collarbones, no space left without a red mark.

“Mikasa, fuck, I’m-”

“No, you’re not. Hold it.” She orders as her fingers pick up the pace with which she was thrusting them in you. The squelching sounds of your pussy fill the room, until she stops and releases them with a distinct ‘pop’. She probs your bottom lip with them before forcing them in your mouth, making you lick them clean. Which you do, sucking so desperately in two fingers, the way she gags you with them making you squirm.

“I can’t wait to see how you take my cock.” She giggles in your ear and flips you over, breasts pressing against the cold surface as she spreads your ass cheeks wide, taking in the sight.

“I don’t think I can take it.” You mumble, embarrassed at the way your body reacts at every touch of her. Mikasa wraps an arm around your stomach, bringing it down to your clit. The little slaps have you moaning again, hole fluttering around nothing.

“I wasn’t asking.” She bites your shoulder one last time before straightening her stance again.

“N-no, wait-oh, fuck!” The tip of her cock slowly stretches you open, the sensation overbearing. Her hand finds your hair, always in that perfectly tight preppy ponytail, which she grabs for leverage. Slowly, more and more of her strap-on fits inside you and you can swear you can feel every single one of the resin veins as your walls clench around the length of it.

“Mikasa, fuck! I’m-I’m coming, God, let me...let me come!” Your nonsense makes Mikasa laugh at you, her hand meeting with your sensitive clit to slap it again. Her rough thrusts send your head to hit against a locker, the dizzy feeling only making you want more.

Your orgasm sends you over the edge, legs shaking uncontrollably, mouth left agape for some drool to run from the side and you could swear some of your cum dripped down to the pile of clothes.

“You ruined my shirt, bitch.” The hold she has on your hips is too tight, her cock is milking your orgasm in a painfully, unbelievably good way and everything feels sore.

“I’m sorry!” You exclaim, eyes blurry and burning as another orgasm slowly builds up. Mikasa leans back, now not even the tip inside you, before she rams into you unexpectedly, tip reaching your cervix to make you scream her name.

“Come on, I’m not doing all the work here.” She grins and sits on the bench. You straddle her lap, cock slipping into your hole easily, as you set a slow pace. Mikasa pays more attention to your breasts, fondling with one as the other is in her mouth, teeth grazing against your nipple as her other hand comes to your clit. “Faster.” She mumbles, leaving more marks on your body, making sure you would be humiliating yourself at some point soon.

“I said faster, bitch. Can’t you do one thing right?” She looks up at you through her eyelids, smoky eyeliner slightly smudged, yet she still looks incredibly hot.

“So-sorry .” You mumble, but your thighs are burning and it’s so hard, but it feels so good. You want to please her, make her feel good.

“Get up.” She orders and you do so, watching her remove the belt around her and setting the strap-on to the side. Legs spreading wide, she leans back a little and looks down at her pussy, then back at you. You get on your knees, hands wrapped around her pillowy thighs, before you look up at her.

“I’ve never have...”

“Well, better make it good then.” She shrugs, hand pushing your head down until your face meets with her clit. Her hand guides you to the right spots, and you’re licking, sucking around her folds, taking your time to explore her. You can hear her moaning softly, deciding to help a bit more, you slip a finger inside her wet hole, the way she sucks you in almost intoxicating.

“F-fuck!” She whines, her sweet release leaving you messy and wet. You look up at her, wondering what her next move is. Will she leave and never say anything of it?

You didn’t expect her to just ram you against the lockers and start fingering you again, as her other hand groped your breasts.

“Too much, please! Mikasa, ‘s too much!” You whine, moaning desperately. The third finger that she adds has you creaming around them, gasping for breath as she kisses your neck.

“This is what you get for being the biggest bitch on campus.” She whispers in your ear before removing herself completely off you, having you trying to catch your breath desperately. Mikasa gets dressed quickly and hides the strap-on back where she took it from. With one smirk thrown your way, she throws your bra and panties at you, leaving you to wonder why she’s holding on to your clothes.

“Let’s see how you get out of here. I told you I’d ruin you.” She laughs as she leaves with your clothes shoved in her backpack.

~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~

request a prompt !

#mikasa ackerman smut #mikasa x you #mikasa smut #mikasa ackerman x reader #mikasa x reader #mikasa x reader smut #anime smut #aot smut #aot x reader smut #snk smut #snk lemons #snk x reader smut #attack on titan smut #attack on titan x reader smut #mikasa aot #minors dni

[miyaagis]

demon lover

+ pairing. incubus! oikawa / fem reader / incubus! kuroo

+ genre. dark, smut

+ word c. 2,378

+ warnings. snuff, dub/non con, implied somnophilia and stalking, facial, choking, fellatio, creampie

+ author n. part 2 of monster. there are some references from it, but u should be able to understand the story even if u didn’t read that one before :)

it has been around five weeks since your encounter with oikawa and you’ve felt restless ever since.

it doesn’t matter where you are —on the streets, at uni, even in your own bathroom— there’s always an unsettling feeling of being watched.

but the nights are worse.

as soon as you close your eyes, images of him smirking down at you plague your mind and dreams. he’s repeatedly having his way with you, fucking you and making you come over and over again until you wake up. leaving you sore and wide awake for the rest of the night.

the days go by and it’s as if your energy is being sucked out of you, not even coffee nor energy drinks are able to keep you awake and away from the haunting dreams.

your body feels weak, you are weak. your fragile-looking body, covered in bruises and dull, sunken eyes easily attract looks of concern from your friends and family. but what’s most concerning it’s the fact that even if you’re restless, you keep thinking about that night.

your body and soul ache for him and you wonder if it’ll take another year until you can see him again.

it’s not until you’re at your weakest, delirious, and on the verge of insanity when he shows up. or at least that’s what you hope, being unable to distinguish your dreams from reality anymore.

“you’ve been such a good girl,” he coos in your ear, stroking your hair out of your face and leaning closer, “have you been waiting for me?”

you nod frantically, whimpering when his lips touch your cheek. he shuts you up with his mouth, his thumbs grazing the skin of your cheekbones and making you melt.

the blissful state you’re in vanishes when an unknown pair of hands start removing your clothes.

your eyes widen, trying to get a look at the intruder but oikawa keeps your face fixed on him with a strong grip on your jaw.

“i brought a friend, hope you don’t mind.”

you take a peek over his shoulder, and your eyes meet a pair of menacing ones. you recognize him immediately as oikawa’s friend from the party —another demon.

“hello, kitten. don’t mind me; i just had to see with my own eyes the pretty pussy that he has been bragging about.”

the dark-haired demon’s lips curl up in a smirk when he sees the troubled look on your face. but it’s true, oikawa hasn’t shut up about you so it's reasonable kuroo asked him to share.

his hands roam over your legs, forcing them open and keeping a firm grip on them when you try resisting him. he takes his cock out of his pants with one hand and lines it up with your entrance, marveling at the sight of your folds.

“oh and you can call me master too.”

he slides in without warning nor prepping you, the burn of your walls stretching as they make room for his cock bringing tears to your eyes.

you don’t want him. it should be oikawa, not him.

“s-stop, please,” you whine, looking at oikawa when kuroo refuses to acknowledge your pleas. but his eyes harden, a dark look taking over his features.

“don’t be rude to our guest and shut up.”

his words break your heart, tears now falling freely down your cheeks as you keep being fucked by the other demon.

“shit, kitten. i can barely fit inside your pussy. let me stretch you out, yeah?” kuroo groans as he keeps forcing his way inside your walls, his girth finally sheathing in and causing him to breath out in relief, “that’s it, sweetheart.”

“isn’t she amazing?” oikawa smiles brightly at his friend, craning his neck to the side to observe your pussy being abused by kuroo’s cock, “the neediest cunt i’ve ever had.”

you clench involuntarily at oikawa’s words which make kuroo groan.

his hand slaps your thigh only to grab a handful of it and squeeze it, “i knew you’d love my cock.”

you’re about to protest when kuroo places your legs over his shoulders and leans forward, resting his upper weight on top of you.

“no! wait– please. too much! ‘s too much, please!” you try to push him away, your nails digging into the skin of his forearms but your desperate wails fall on deaf ears.

kuroo’s pace is relentless, every graze of his cock against your snug walls feels like fire.

your eyes lock with oikawa’s, he looks pleased —much to your dismay— and you feel your heart drop when he catches you staring and smiles.

“enjoying yourself?”

a cry escapes from your lips when kuroo picks up his pace, the distinctive sound of his cock thrusting inside your pussy taking over the bedroom.

“fuck, shut up. you’re getting annoying,” kuroo groans but you’re way too preoccupied with the pain to register his words.

you keep sobbing your heart out, your desperate cries getting louder as he continues his assault on you.

his large hand suddenly covers your mouth, concealing your sounds and making your eyes widen.

“i told you to shut the fuck up, stupid whore!”

“can you control yourself and not kill her before i get a turn?” oikawa’s irritated tone reaches your ears, “you always do this.”

the tears refuse to stop, kuroo’s actions plus oikawa’s words wounding you both physically and emotionally.

“i’m close, fuck– so close,” kuroo’s grunts in your ear, the snap of his hips picking up its pace as he draws to his end. 

a few thrusts later and he’s finally reaching his high, emptying himself inside of you. his cock pulses as it pumps his cum inside your raw walls, moaning in relief at the way they wrap around him.

once he lets go of you, you curl up around yourself. your soft cries are the only audible thing in your bedroom, pain tugging at your heartstrings as the weight of what just happened falls on you. you’re so lost in your own suffering that you miss the quiet sound of clothes rustling.

it’s not until oikawa’s familiar scent reaches your nose that you look up —teary-eyed and with your eyelashes wet with tears— and observe as he crawls up his way on top of you.

“will you be good to your master?” he asks while wiping your tears away, pouting at you mockingly.

“please,” you don’t even know what you’re asking for, your mind too hazy and your body too weak to comprehend what's going on around you. 

but he goes in anyway.

his hard cock enters you easily, sliding in thanks to kuroo’s cum still coating your insides and bottoms out almost instantly.

“shit, it feels way better when you’re awake.” 

he starts a slow pace, basking in the feeling. his hands start kneading your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh under his fingers, and then running the pads of his thumbs over your nipples.

the sensation has you involuntarily gushing around his cock, wet sounds starting to echo around the room and prompting kuroo to lazily stroke his hardening cock again.

“naughty kitten, you want more don’t you?” a devious look takes over kuroo’s features, but he instantly dismisses your presence by turning to oikawa instead, “does she give good head?”

“why don’t you–hah, see for yourself,” oikawa struggles through his words, brows furrowing in pleasure as his hips collide against yours.

kuroo wastes no time, making his way next to your head while his hand keeps pumping at his now fully erect cock. the weight of it falls on your parted lips, running the leaking head over them and coating them with pre-cum.

you’re not given a warning, kuroo’s fingers get a tight hold on your jaw and force it open so he can slide in, the head poking at your inner cheek and making it bulge out in an obscene way.

“there you go, kitten. you are way better when you shut up,” he smirks down at you, thrusting up into your mouth, “all you needed was my fat cock.”

drool leaks out of your mouth but at this point, you don’t care anymore. you are drained, basically a corpse for them to fuck and fill with their semen.

you have a hard time trying to focus your vision on the demons before you, your head throbbing at the lack of energy. but it only gets worse when you feel a pair of hands fumbling around your throat.

“if only you could see how fucking gorgeous you look right now,” oikawa praises you as his hands wrap a collar around your neck, almost moaning at the sight underneath him, “my good girl, do you like your master’s cock?”

the leather fabric tightens around your neck, the leash allowing oikawa to jerk your head up and making kuroo’s cock slide out of your mouth in the process.

“oi! don’t hog her!”

your groggy brain barely registers them arguing over who gets to control you.

“shut the fuck up. i found her first,” oikawa tries to get his point across by lifting your legs over his shoulders and pounding even harder, your whimpers turning louder at the new position. 

“but you’re fucking her cunt! at least give me control over her head!”

oikawa’s too busy thrusting his cock inside your plush walls that he eventually gives in. once the leash falls on kuroo’s hands, he wastes no time and pulls your face towards him, making you gag around his cock.

your muscles contract at the intrusion which only heightens the blissful feeling, transmitting waves of pleasure through his body.

“ah fuck, i can feel her trying to suck my cum out of me. such a cum-thirsty whore.”

what both demons miss, it's the way your face starts to turn purple. the tight grip of the collar plus kuroo’s tugging at the leash preventing the air from reaching your lungs.

with the last bits of energy you've left, you try to rip the collar off of you. your hands desperately claw at the material as your eyes widen in realization of what will come next if you’re unable to free yourself from their grip.

but your actions seem to anger kuroo, who growls and drops the leash only to grab you by your head and shove your face all the way down his length.

you start to choke, his thick girth taking so much space in your mouth and when you try to take a deep breath through your nose, he pushes in even more. coughs erupt from your chest, his pre-cum and your saliva reaching your lungs while dark spots start to cloud your vision. their voices sound far away, numbness taking over your body as you start growing dizzy and a violaceous hue tints the skin of your face at the lack of oxygen.

both demons pay no mind, too busy chasing their ends to notice how you’ve stopped fighting them. their moans echo freely all over the room, the lewd sounds of their cocks abusing your holes bringing a sense of hunger to them.

“shit, baby you feel so good. i’m gonna cum in your sweet, needy cunt and fill you with it m’kay?” oikawa announces, his orgasm rapidly approaching and inciting him to thrust harder, getting lost in the way your walls rub against his twitching cock.

kuroo lets out a low groan as he finally cums in your mouth, pulling out just enough to paint your face with it and smear it all over your lips. he sighs in relief, smiling at the sight of your pretty face covered in his sticky cum. the way it sticks to your eyelashes and drips down your face to your parted lips etching itself on his mind.

he can’t remember the last time he had such an erotic sight. 

but when he notices a lack of movement from you after a minute, he couldn't help but curse out loud. thankfully, it goes unnoticed by oikawa since his moans got louder, his own orgasm sending shivers down his body and causing him to lose focus on his surroundings for a while.

“ngh– fuck,” oikawa spills inside your pussy, his cock throbbing as load after load pumps out of him and fills you to the brim.

his eyes are closed, breaths ragged as he basks in the afterglow of his orgasm. it’s not until he opens them to admire your fucked out face when he finally finds out.

he’s confused for a moment before it dawns on him. he slaps your thigh gently, calling out your name in a futile attempt to get you to answer him back.

“sweetheart, this isn’t funny.”

but as he turns to face kuroo in search of an explanation, one look at him is enough to answer his question. 

“i swear i didn’t mean to!”

a nervous-looking kuroo, fully clothed by now, stands awkwardly by the door. he’s well aware he fucked up—big time.

“fucking hell!” oikawa rakes his fingers through his hair in exasperation, “did i not tell you to control yourself?!”

he can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness since he did grow a liking to you thanks to his nocturn visits. but the sentiment quickly fades away when his eyes fall on your form once again. a pleased smile appears on his handsome face as he takes in the sight of your legs spread wide open, his cum seeping out of your pussy.

“she remembered how much i like this,” he coos to himself, plunging one finger between your folds and smearing the fluids.

he’s so lost on you that he doesn’t notice kuroo disappearing from your room and leaving him behind—not like he cares. his hands reach out to smooth out your hair, traveling down the side of your face and stroking the skin of your cheeks with his long fingers. 

you look so peaceful, so pretty, covered in their fluids, and with the choker still adorning your neck.

the nostalgic feeling returns, tugging at his heart and prompting a gentle smile to take over his lips. with a kiss on your forehead and then one on your lips, oikawa finally bids his goodbyes.

“don’t worry, baby girl. i have a spot in hell saved just for you.”

#yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere haikyuu x reader #yandere kuroo #tw.snuff #tw.dubcon #tw.noncon #tw.somnophilia

[bex-la-get]

Sunday Mornings (Ethan x f!MC)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Natalie Cusack

Special Appearance: The Ramsack Kids

Word count: 1945

Summary: Nat and Ethan enjoy their Sunday mornings. Told over several years.

Rating: T (All the fluff)

Author’s Note: Literally wrote this in the span of an hour and it’s currently 1am here so apologies in advance for any mistakes. Enjoy!

Sundays were for them.

Every Sunday, Nat and Ethan had the day off from the hospital, something Ethan had negotiated with Naveen and the Board early into their relationship. And, as a result, every Sunday was theirs for the taking. If they wanted to be lazy, they would be lazy. If they wanted to run errands and prepare for the week, then that’s what they would do. If they wanted to turn off their phones and focus only on each other, then that’s what they would do too. Regardless of their plans, their Sundays were always sure to be full of one thing: each other.

On a particular rainy Sunday morning, Nat woke to the sound of thunder rumbling outside her window. She groaned in protest at the sound and snuggled deeper into the mattress, burying herself beneath the covers. Within moments, she felt a strong pair of arms snake around her body and hold her tightly, the feel of Ethan’s bare chest against her back, as they breathed in sync with one another.

“Mm, good morning,” Ethan muttered into Nat’s ear.

She groaned in response. “No.”

Ethan chuckled. “No to me or to the morning?”

“To the morning,” she mumbled, her eyes still closed. “Too early.”

Ethan glanced at the clock on his bedside table, noting it was rather early for a Sunday; 7:15 to be exact. He turned back to Nat and pulled her closer in his embrace, placing a soft kiss behind her ear. “I love you,” he said, quietly.

“Mm, love you too,” she replied. Her eyes were still closed and her voice was still sleep laden. He smiled and placed another kiss on her shoulder, laying his head back on the pillow and intending to fall back asleep, only to feel Nat shift in his arms until she was facing him. She began to gently run her fingers up and down the bridge of his nose and he opened his eyes to find her blue-green ones staring back at him. “Hi,” she whispered.

“Hi.”

“Let’s stay in today,” she suggested. She snuggled closer to him as she spoke, their noses almost touching. 

“Mm, didn’t you want to go grocery shopping?” he asked.

She shook her head. “We can have them delivered. Today, I just want you and me. And Jenner.” The aforementioned pup perked his head up at his name, his tail gently wagging.

Ethan smiled. “Okay; you, me, and Jenner then. Anything in particular you want to do?”

“Mhm, this.” Cupping the back of his head with her hand, she kissed him firmly. He melted into the kiss instantly, his hands gripping her hips as he pulled her impossibly closer. But just as the kiss was growing in intensity, Nat pulled back and bit her lip. “I just realized, I have morning breath,” she giggled. “I’ll be right back.”

She moved to make her way out of the bed but Ethan held her down tightly, readjusting the two of them so he was laying on top of her. “Oh no, you don’t.”

Nat fell back onto the mattress and laughed. “E, I’m just going to brush my teeth. I’ll be right back.”

“Nope, don’t care,” he said, peppering kisses along her neck and jaw. “I’ll kiss you with any kind of breath. Morning breath, coffee breath, garlic breath; I don’t care. I want to kiss you always.” He kissed her lips softly to emphasize his point and Natalie smiled when he pulled away.

“That’s quite a declaration, Dr. Ramsey. Are you sure you want to stick with it?” she teased.

He grinned and kissed her more firmly this time, eliciting a soft moan from Nat. “Always,” he repeated, when he broke the kiss. Natalie returned his smile and kissed him again, this one full of love and passion. Soon, their kisses led to roaming hands, stripped clothing, and moans of pleasure filling up the room. On this particular Sunday, they never left the bedroom.

-------------------------------

Two Years Later

Ethan was the first to wake, the sounds of crying filling his ears. Quickly getting out of bed, he made his way to the nursery, finding baby Noah wriggling around in his crib, crying for his parents. Ethan smiled at his son and gently picked him up, the crying stopping almost instantly. “Good morning, Noah,” Ethan whispered quietly, looking into the bright blue eyes of his son. “There’s no need to cry, Daddy’s here. I’ve got you.”

Taking his son to the changing table and giving Noah a clean diaper, Ethan made his way to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle from the fridge before returning to the bedroom. Settling Noah comfortably in his arms, he gave Noah the bottle and watched as his tiny hands grabbed for the container. Ethan smiled at the sight.

Halfway through his son’s feeding, Natalie began to stir next to him. Opening her eyes, she smiled at the sight of Ethan and Noah in front of her. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, my love,” Ethan replied, smiling at her. “Happy Sunday.”

“Mm, happy Sunday, indeed.” Natalie stretched her arms above her head before sitting up to watch her feeding son. “How’s our little Bear this morning?”

“Just fine,” Ethan said, proudly. Nat gently ran her hand over Noah’s curly hair and smiled. When Noah finished, Ethan transferred the baby into Nat’s arms for a burping while Ethan got up to make them some coffee. When he returned, two steaming mugs in hand, his heart swelled at the sight of Nat gently rocking Noah in her arms, humming a quiet tune to the small boy. Noah’s bright blue eyes stared back at his mother in awe, as if he were amazed by what he was hearing. Ethan couldn’t blame him; Nat was quite the amazing woman.

He entered the room further and placed the coffee mug on Nat’s nightstand before sitting back in his own place in the bed. “Thanks,” she said, smiling at Ethan.

He returned her smile and placed a chaste kiss against her lips. “You’re welcome, my love. So, what’s on the agenda today?”

Nat thought for a moment. “Brunch with your dad, we need to get some more baby-proofing stuff for the apartment, and… oh, didn’t you want to hit up that new bookstore?”

“If we have time, yes,” Ethan confirmed. 

“We’ll make time,” Nat said, confidently. “I hear their children’s section is really extensive.”

“More books? Nat, he’s already got a shelf full,” Ethan replied, fighting the smile that was growing on his lips.

Nat shook her head, a familiar mischievous look in her eyes. “You can never have too many books, baby. Besides, I want him to be well-read! And, studies show that reading to babies can help them develop their language skills.”

Ethan chuckled. “I should’ve known not to question you on this. But you know we’re going to need another bookshelf at this rate.”

Nat shrugged and smirked. “You say that like it’s a bad thing!” Ethan simply laughed in response.

---------------------------------

Ten Years Later

Little Lydia was the first to wake in the Ramsey household, early one Sunday morning. It was a quiet, snowy morning in December; the Christmas holiday was right around the corner and she’d been dying to know what Santa would be bringing this year. She’d planned on asking him for the new toy doctor set that she’d seen on TV; she really hoped she’d get it. She’d been extra good this year too! If only Christmas wasn’t so far away.

She tiptoed out of her room and glanced down the hallway, only silence and a slight chill greeting her. She shivered and turned to her left, making her way down to her parent’s room. She cracked open the door slightly to find her parents fast asleep, Jenner sleeping on the floor next to her mother’s side of the bed. The only creature in the room that was awake was Louis, their calico cat, who was watching her with mild interest from his perch on the window sill. 

Quietly, Lydia entered the room and made her way to her mother’s side of the bed. Patting her arm gently, she waited as Natalie opened her eyes, sleepily. When she spotted her youngest daughter, Nat perked up slightly. “Hi baby,” she said, quietly.

“Hi Mama,” little Lydia greeted. “Can I sleep with you?”

“Of course, sweetie,” Natalie said. Scooting further into the middle of the bed, she lifted the covers for little Lydia to crawl under, tucking her youngest into her embrace tightly as they snuggled together back into bed. As the two of them settled back into bed and began to fall back asleep, Natalie felt a strong arm wrap around her, stopping when it felt an extra body in the bed. She fought back her smile as she felt Ethan lift his head up from the pillow.

“Why are there two of you?” he asked, groggily.

Nat giggled and turned her head to her husband. “You do know we have three kids, right?”

“Oh, is that who they are? I thought they were just tiny roommates who don’t help pay the mortgage.”

Nat rolled her eyes and placed her cold foot against Ethan’s leg causing him to jump at the sensation. “Now, that’s just cruel,” he joked.

Natalie chuckled. “That’s what you get for being snarky this early in the morning.”

Ethan shook his head, smiling. “Yes, dear.” He nuzzled his nose into her hair and placed a soft kiss on her temple. Just as the two of them settled back into bed, they heard the distinct sound of their bedroom door creaking open. Ethan looked to the source to find Evie sneaking into the room. “Hi honey, everything okay?”

Evie nodded. “It’s cold,” she replied.

“Come here,” Ethan gestured. “We’ll put you right between me and Mama for extra warmth.” Evie followed her father’s instructions and crawled into the middle of the bed, snuggling under the covers between her parents. Ethan wrapped his arm around the three Ramsey women, who now occupied most of his bed, as best he could, his fingertips just resting on little Lydia’s back. His head falling back onto the pillow, he slowly began to drift back to sleep.

Until the door creaked open again. He did his best not to groan; it appeared this would not be the Sunday to lie in. 

This time, Nat was the one to look up at the new occupant of the room, finding Noah groggily looking confused at his parents. “I heard voices,” he explained, “it woke me up.”

“Sorry, Bear,” Nat said. She quickly glanced at Ethan who gave her a small nod before she looked back at her son. “Come on in here, there’s plenty of room.”

“I’m too tall, I won’t fit in with the rest of you,” Noah protested. It was true, he was tall for an eleven-year-old; but neither Nat nor Ethan cared. Their boy would never be too tall for them for anything; especially cuddles. 

“I’m tall too,” Ethan reasoned, “and I still fit. Come on, we’ll make it work.”

“Come on, Noey,” little Lydia encouraged. 

Smiling, Noah nodded and crawled into his parent’s bed, snuggling next to Nat as Evie snuggled against Ethan. It was tight, with all five of them in the bed at once, but the Ramseys were nothing if not resourceful, and they found a way to make it work. With all of their children tucked safely into their arms, the Ramseys finally fell back asleep, as a light snow fell on the ground outside. As both Ethan and Natalie drifted back into their slumber, they shared one singular thought: Sundays were their favorite days.

A/N: Tagging separately.

#bexwritesstuff #fluff fluff fluff #ethan ramsey #natalie cusack #ethan x natalie #ethan x mc #open heart mc #the ramsack kids #noah ramsey #evie ramsey #lydia ramsey #choices fic writers creations

[huenjin]

attention.

pairing — bang chan x reader

word count — 2.8k words

ratings — 18+

genre — smut, includes thigh riding, groping, hand job, dry humping, dry sex.

note — i needed to post something for my baby's bday but i had none written so i had to post some real old writing and like i love you, channie.

You open the door to the room only to see Chan working hard on his laptop, typing away his time with his eyes fixated on the screen, moving the buttons the way he needed. You sigh and lean against the panel of the door in vain.

Chan is always caught up in his work. And no matter how many times you've asked him to leave his work at the studio and come home to you just as him, it is useless. You come home only to find Chan making music or sleeping because the day is exhaustive. It had been days since Chan had given you any attention. It had been months since your boyfriend had even taken you out on a date.

Beyond everything, you are sexually frustrated.

The purple vibrator that you had bought for occasions such as these helped you to an extent but none comes even close to the effect Chan's cock has on you. You had taken a bite of the sweet apple and it is way too late to go back now.

"Chan," you call out as you walk slowly towards him, taking small strides, praying tonight is going to be a lucky one. Your boyfriend hums in response. His attention is still fixated on his work and you are genuinely getting agitated with every minute that passes by.

"Channie," you whine and lean over his shoulder as you stand behind him. Chan merely smiles and continues his work, pressing the headphones closer to his ear as he taps on a few buttons before pressing the keys on the keyboard before him. You watch the screen for a minute before looking at him, staring at his side profile.

You propel yourself a bit further, letting your hot breath fan over his ears and the side of his face and neck. Chan ignores your presence so obviously and lets you be.

You kiss his neck. Chan stops for an instant, surprised by your sudden action, not expecting it, before continuing with his work. You are slowly getting irked over the fact that Chan is still not giving you enough attention.

You trail kisses up and down his neck before parting your lips slightly and sucking on his neck in an attempt to form a distinct hickey. A sigh escapes from Chan's mouth and that seems to have led him to press on keys only quicker, that is only after a surprised quick press on one of them — the shrill sound echoing off the walls.

You suck, letting slick noises emit from your mouth. You let the free hand roam around your body, trying to grab a feel. You are after all only wearing Chan's shirt with no undergarments underneath. He would not have observed that though. It has been long since Chan has observed you even.

The free hand of yours trails down to the hemline of his shirt before letting it travel underneath, as it touches and caresses every corner and crook of his body.

"Y/N," Chan finally utters. "Stop. I have work to do."

"And I've work to do," you assert. Tongue clicking before pressing it against your inner cheek. "So, let's just stick to what we were doing as you pleased," you snarl at your boyfriend. You stand up straight and begin unbuttoning Chan's shirt that you are wearing before the man himself, who has turned around to see your antics.

You slowly opened the button one after another, taking your own time, letting Chan die in agony internally as he lets out a small groan. He stomps slightly, rocking his leg. You raise your eyebrow and ask, "I thought you had work."

Chan stretches his arms out and catching hold of your hips, he pulls you onto his lap. The impact leads to the half-opened shirt to fall off one of your shoulders showing a lot of your left breast.

With your face ever so close to Chan, you can see the dark circles underneath his eyes. The poor man has been working himself to death. His eyes have lost their spark and you genuinely wish that Chan would let go once in a while and enjoy the present.

However, you can also see how beautiful he is - his rosy lips that are parted and his nose that is sharp. Chan is a beauty carved from the finest and you are glad to call him yours.

"Fuck," Chan swears under his breath. You smile. You lift your hand and stretching your index finger, you poke Chan's head, pushing it back.

"I lead today," you mumble, cupping Chan's face. "I lead and get what I want today because you've been a bad, bad boy these weeks."

Chan gulps, his eyes turning a shade darker. He stretches his hands back to shut his laptop. You lean forward and catch Chan midway for a kiss. You hold his face, guiding and directing the kiss, being forceful and trying to show the dominance you clearly lacked. Chan always led and it is taking you a long time to get used to what you had asked for.

"But, Y/N," Chan protests as you break off the kiss. "What did I do wrong?"

You get off his lap and Chan's eyes widens. You clearly catch sight of Chan's growing hard-on and smile to yourself. You fold your arms and in the process, push your breasts up.

"I want to ride you," you say and Chan smiles, "So be it."

"No," you cut him off. You had intended to be elaborate, even though you shied away. You just did not want to ride him (not that that wasn't a dynamic experience of its own). You wanted to ride his thigh. Every time you see Chan walk in those tight leather jeans with his thighs looking perfect, you could not have helped but wonder how it'd feel like riding it.

"Then?"

"You don't question me, love," you lean forwards, your breasts shaking due to the impact. "I do the questioning." You giggle slightly and Chan smiles, even though deep down, he finds you so hot that he could melt.

"I want to ride your thighs," you tell him in a tone lower than it is originally as you edge closer to him and bend over to face him directly.

Chan gulps. He knows deep down that as much as he longs to have the reins back with him, you trying your best to look dominating is sinful.

"Can I?" You ask, accidentally. Your eyes widen as you realise and you quickly look down. Chan smiles and blinks in response to let you have your moment. You seem to have been trying really hard, after all.

You slightly part Chan's legs, giving you space to accompany yours. Before sitting on them, you flip your hair to let it rest on one shoulder of yours and lean forward to remove Chan's white shirt.

You are pleased, nonetheless to say. Chan has an effect on you, undoubtedly. However, you are still standing in front of him, strong and determined to have your way. You had feared initially that you'd be already begging for him and his devious ways with you.

Chan stares at you, ensuring that he did not break contact with you at all. That you still had him in the way you wanted, ready to dominate. He knows you liked it and you do truly. You lift Chan's shirt up as he allows you to and throw it to a corner.

Fucking minx, Chan screams out loud in his head. He watches you closely. Chan has always loved to do that. Yes, he is guilty as charged for being so caught up in his work, but he realises his mistake. He is, after all, missing out on all this.

But if it were his lack of attention that led you to be a vamper, he wouldn't mind doing this all over again.

You take a deep breath as you look at Chan, gaze lingering up and down and finally letting your eyes land on his thighs. His thick thighs. Chan's thighs are one of the many reasons for your wet dreams. His thighs, that are so tight and firm, look like they are made of steel. They even enhance his beautiful backside besides his crotch that they almost steal all the attention from his already handsome face.

So, you are not exactly surprised this morning when you wake up, drenched in your sweat, panties damp all because you dreamt of riding Chan's thighs. That dream edges you to the ultimate levels of endurance of your sexual frustration.

"Are you rethinking everything?" Chan asks out of concern. You face Chan, head lifting slightly. You are intimidated by your own fantasies as much as you want to try it out. Chan understands this and you realise that that is one of the million reasons why you love him.

"Yes," you mumble, embarrassed. You end up just making a fool out of yourself and nothing more. You can feel the ground below you slipping as you drown in your own embarrassment until —

"That was hot," Chan's voice resonates in tones lower and he pulls you onto his thigh so suddenly that you let out a squeal subsequently followed by your eyes widening at what happened.

"Chan," you let out a sigh. Your hands extend to grip on Chan's shoulder for some sort of balance while his huge hands hold your hips in position.

"Would you let me take control?" Chan asks, leaning forward. His breath warms your neck and a sharp rush of tingles run down your spine, making you slicker than you already were. Chan is kind enough to ask you to hand over the reins; however, he also looked like he would take them even if you didn't give it to him.

You nod and that is a signal enough for Chan. Holding your hip down onto his thighs more precisely, he pulls you forward towards him. You gasp at the friction and your head drops forward, resting momentarily on Chan's neck. You can feel him growing against your thigh as it is pressed. Your breath is already getting irregular.

"Grind on my thighs, baby," Chan whispers into your ear and catches hold of your earlobe between his teeth.

On that cue, you press your core, dripping, further into his thighs and start grinding on him slowly.

"Chan, oh," your words ever so slowly turning into moans, each of a higher frequency than the previous one, "Oh my God."

Your voice is trembling. You can feel the sensation in your centre, spreading and vibrating through your whole body. You hold onto Chan's shoulder tighter than you already are. Your brain is slowly releasing oxytocin and endorphins. Bliss is all you feel. And Chan's thick thigh.

Chan lets out a deep grunt as he watches the sight before him. You are moving back and forth on his thighs and you look to have found heaven momentarily. Your face is washed with a look of pleasure as you moan his name over and over and over again as if he is the reason why you are breathing at this moment. Your eyes are shut tight and you rub yourself on his thighs. Chan can arguably say for sure that this is one of his favourite looks on your face.

Your right hand drops from his shoulder and you allow it to land on his covered girth. He was thick everywhere and you love it. You open your eyes, looking at Chan and letting him see how lost you are in seventh heaven. Chan helps you move quicker on his thigh subsequently as he pulls you back and forth. You grip on his covered shaft, giving it a few pumps as much as the covered denim permitted you to.

The air is soon filled with the sounds of your loud moans and his deep grunts. Your body is firmly grinding on his thighs. Your hand is pumping Chan and moving around his covered shaft rhythmically. Chan's hands, that are holding you down onto his thighs, are flexed which helps him guide you to grind on himself quicker. The friction from moving to and fro his tense thighs, that he flexed occasionally to emit a louder moan from you, sends waves of pleasure slowly through your clit.

"C-Chan," you screamed, not caring for anyone hearing you being a moaning mess, "I'm close. I'm so f-fucking close."

Chan's eyebrows quirk up. He knows that you are close. He has always known when you are close. Your lips quiver, your eyes roll to the back of your head and you tremble. Chan loves seeing you like this - like the moaning mess you are for him, unrestrained and loud.

He moves one of his hands. You let out a sigh at the loss of contact and you grip on his cock a little harder, rubbing it quicker. He slips one of his thumbs between your bodies to find your button.

"Aha," Chan smiles to himself on finding it and starts pressing on it, letting his thumb move in small circles, considering the limited space he had.

"Chan— fuck!" You moan and your head rolls backwards in sheer pleasure. "Oh my." You grip harder on his shoulders to balance yourself, your one hand still wrapped warmly around his manhood.

"Oh my fuck," you scream out loud, followed by the repeated chanting of his name when your climax hit you. You feel like your core is exploding and your eyes screw shut as you keep riding Chan's thigh sloppily.

"That's it, baby," Chan encourages you, whispering to you to continue. He grunts as he bucks into your hand that was wrapped around his cock. His one hand that is on your clit, now wraps around your hand, guiding you and helping you to squeeze him harder to reach his own high. Your head tilts slightly as you watch Chan's face slowly morph into one of extreme pleasure. He looks sinful, not that he normally doesn't.

You let out a whimper as his thighs move up along with his hips, providing more friction to your sensitive core. Your hand moves up and down his shaft, adjusting on how Chan's facial expressions changed. With a few hard thrusts from Chan himself into your hands, he finally explodes in his denim pants, the stain that is brought thanks to his precum, making its way bigger on the front and he emits a loud grunt. You watched in admiration how Chan thrusts a bit more into your hands.

Your bodies slowly halt in their movement. Your high subsides along with Chan's as your breath returns to normalcy. Chan leans forward to peck you on your lips lovingly, which is soon followed by a deep longing kiss. You pull away to face Chan who has leaned sideways to pick up the shirt of his that you had been wearing. He drapes it over you, pulling the open seams closer and lovingly caresses your face, with an expression of gratitude.

"That was perfect," he said, rubbing small circles with his thumbs on your skin at your hip. He looks at you with droopy eyes and a careened body.

"It felt amazing." You feel comfortable now, your head resting on his shoulder. Chan does not make your sexual fantasies seem weird. He never did and you feel blessed.

"I'm sorry," Chan cups your face and presses his forehead to yours. "I'm sorry for being so caught up with work that I haven't been paying much attention to you."

Chan looks sincerely into your eyes and you feel your heart warm up. This man loves you with no bounds and you love him for everything so much.

"It's alright," you tell him as you pull away and kiss his forehead. Chan and you stay like that for a while in each other's overwhelming presence. "I love you, Chan."

"So much more, Y/N," he hugs you warmly. Pulling you away, minutes later and holding you at an arm's length, Chan smiles stupidly at you with his eyes glistening.

"If ignoring you means this, I'm ready for this all over again," he sheepishly agrees and you laugh, flicking his forehead as you jokingly gasp. The room resonates your laughter accompanied by Chan's soon after — just two blessed souls with hearts next to each other.

"Asshole, why do I even adore you?"

#stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #skz scenarios #bang chan imagines #bang chan scenarios #stray kids #skz #bang chan #bang chan x reader #switch!chan #switch!reader #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #kpop imagines #writings.rue

[lettrespromises]

KISSING YOUR FEARS AWAY. - SHOTO TODOROKI.

A.N : ❝ Dear reader,  I can’t tell you how much I loved writing this story so I hope you’ll like it as much as I loved putting it together. Please, please, please, can someone hug Shoto? He deserves all the hugs and the smooches in the world. As per usual, if you have the opportunity to do so, leave me your feedback! I may or may not have written this so you could forgive me for breaking your heart with the Kuroo fic. Yours sincerely,  Nikki.❞ Genre : Fluff, comfort, angst if you squint. Warnings : Nightmares, crying, Endeavor (it’s a valid warning.) Word count : 2.3K. Letter object : Shoto is convinced he can’t runaway from his fate as the son of Endeavor, even in his nightmares. Well, with the help of a cup of tea, reassuring words and a few kisses, you take it upon yourself to prove him wrong.

« You were born a Todoroki, Shoto, you can’t run away from your fate. » « My blood is coursing through your veins, you can’t run from me either. » « I, the person you hate the most on the planet, am your father and whether you like it or not, you will end up like me undoubtably. »

Like him. Like Endeavor. Like his father.

A sudden cry for air broke the deafening silence of the night, as the ultimate solution to break free from the haunting voice of his father. He was everywhere— on the news, in the streets; but also in Shoto’s most personal boundaries— his school, his life, and even in his slumber. The only moment of the day where his subconsciousness is supposed to serve the sole purpose of relaxing him is shattered by Endeavor, and Shoto could tell (although it was his subconsciousness speaking in his dreams) that his father must have loved every second of it. He was gasping for air— his lungs seemed to be unable to firmly catch any ounce of oxygen, something as natural as breathing had become the hardest thing he had ever done, hell, even fighting villains appeared easier than breathing right now.

The palm of his right hand covered the flesh over his lungs, the coolness emanating from his mother’s inherited side was creating a harsh and painful contrast with the inferno which had freed its chains and was now burning Shoto’s whole respiratory system. He couldn’t help but curse at himself for not being able to control his left side, after all, it had always been what he bitterly called « the worst part of himself. » The sweat on his forehead, the trembling hands, the tears threatening to fall at any given second, the loud breaths— he cursed himself once more for appearing so weak, all because of his father.

Deep down, Shoto knew he couldn’t afford to stay the night in a room which was the bearer of all his fears. Just one glance at his room, and the sole thing he could perceive was his father’s face— the most simple objects reminded him of Endeavor. There was only one solution left, it was his favorite solution. Mustering all the strength left in him, Shoto got up and without glancing one last time behind him, clutched the doorknob until his fingers turned white to get away from his room as quickly as humanly possible. He was careful on his way though, he knew not to mix strength and loud noises— it was a beautiful contrast, both strong and quiet at the same time. After all, didn’t he embody said contrast?

If he blinked hard enough, Shoto could have sworn that the door of your room suddenly looked like the gates of heaven, and unlike his martyr of a doorknob, he carefully wrapped his  right hand around your doorknob with all the tenderness he could gather. And, oh, speaking of heaven, the sight of you sleeping away in Morpheus’ arms was worthy of an angel on a painting from the Renaissance. His gaze landed upon you, and unbeknownst to him, the tears that threatened to fall earlier had just put their threat to execution— just the sight of you sleeping was enough to make him shed a couple of tears. What a contrast between his room and your own. He was so lost in the sight of your frame, so amazed by the scenery, so fond of the light of the moon reflecting upon the highest parts of your cheekbones that he couldn’t help but kneel right next to your bed and take your hand in his to convince him that you were very much real. But one thing led to another and…

« S-…Shoto? What are you-…Oh. Oh! Is everything alright, love? » If you were careful enough, you could have heard your very own heart breaking at the sight before you— Shoto hung his head low, almost ashamed, and his body language testified how afraid he was. And it was in moments like these that you were his anchor, his safe person. Your palm made its way down to his left cheek, you knew how much he hated his side of him so you swore to yourself that you would always dedicate as much attention as possible there. Your touch was so appeasing, he rested his head upon your cheek but his gaze was still fixed on his knees. He wanted to talk to you, he wanted to exteriorize all this pain that has been literally burning him alive, because he knew you had all the answers to his pains. Shoto tried, he opened his mouth… But no distinct sound came out of it. « I’ve got you, Shoto, you’re safe here. You’re safe with me, nothing will happen to you as long as I’m here. I won’t let you go. Take your time, love. » Reflex kicked, you jumped out of your bed and instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck while your legs encompassed his waist. A bunch of sweet nothings said, pecks delivered on his forehead and a couple of strokes through his hair later, the sound of his voice was finally being heard.

« I-…I’m so scared. I don’t want to be like h-him. It’s just… » he lets out a sigh he didn’t even know he was holding, and eventually let his gaze darkened by fear fall on yours which was  shockingly contrasting by its gleam of reassurance, « It’s just… I-I just don’t want to be like my father. I don’t w-want to hurt you like he hurt my m-mother… » You applauded his bravery for gathering all the courage necessary to vividly talk about his emotions by planting your lips on his own, both of your palms cradled his face whilst your thumb were brushing against the surface of his skin in circular motions. Shouto had no idea how much he craved, no, he needed the sensation of the softness of your lips on his own, it was healing in a way. Although, at times, his intrusive thoughts got the best of him and made him wondered how you could be so helplessly enamored with him, the son of Endeavor.

Your hands ran down his body until they met his, then, you brought his knuckles to the height of your lips to plant a sweet peck on his knuckles. At times, you wished you could let Shoto see himself through your lenses, if only he knew the amount of love and adoration you held for him. « Shoto, love, will you come with me downstairs? Let’s drink a cup of tea together. » You kept kissing these words into his knuckles, Shoto was a bit too blunt at times, and displaying physical affection was a way to prove him how much you cared about him. You did not expect any response from him whatsoever, he hummed slightly and squeezed your hand ever so lightly as if you were made of precious porcelain to let you know that he agreed. You could only curve your lips into a smile at the carefulness of his actions. You both stood up at the same time, and let your fingers intertwined themselves with his while your thumb stroked invisible patterns on the surface of his hand.

The two cups were out. The water was boiling. The tea had now filled both of your cups. You carried the two cups in the communal living room and handed Shoto his rightfully deserved cup of tea (while being extra careful not to spill a single droplet of tea onto the ground, the sight of Aizawa-sensei’s glowing red eyes was enough to prevent you from being clumsy.) « Thank you, Y/N. I appreciate what you have done for me. » Shoto was a man of a few words but the sight of his eyes which were glistening from a sweet mix of gratitude and love was enough to melt your heart. You knew not to push the discussion any further, especially after one of Shoto’s disturbing nightmares. You were both sitting on the couch, letting the comfortable silence envelop you while you were drinking your tea. The latter was very special to you, Shoto’s sister had previously confided to you that tea actually helped to calm him down, and it was her secret weapon to make his fears fly away as a child.

Perhaps it was the tea, perhaps it was the stinginess of his eyes due to his tears, perhaps it was your relaxing presence, but Shoto’s lids felt heavy, a bit too heavy for his liking. He couldn’t find the strength to go back to his room anyway, you and Shoto were doomed to sleep on the couch. He carefully waited until you drank the last droplets of tea and set the cup on the table before you, his eyes never left your figure, as if he was scared that if he were to blink, you would magically disappear.

You were caught off-guard as you felt Shoto’s hands grab your waist and pull you down on his side. He rarely initiated any kind of loving gesture, so, you enjoyed these rare times to the fullest and always carried a smile on your face. His arms were circling your waist, his forehead was touching yours as he unraveled his true emotions which were usually always hidden behind that stoic face of his. His embrace was so reassuring to you, but to Shoto, having you cradled in his arms and his face nested in the crook of your neck was yet another way to make sure that you were here, with him, forever.

You took his face between the palms of your hands, and studied his face carefully. You could look at him for hours, days, months, and never get tired of seeing him, nor could you list one flaw about him. And thus the « let’s shower Shoto with affection » mission had begun : you delivered pecks everywhere. His nose? Check. His cheek? Double check. His forehead? Also check. His lids? Another check. His lips? Umpteenth check. But you payed specific attention to his scar, letting your lips linger a bit more on it. Shoto felt like he was floating, your touch was so divine, he couldn’t help but pay you back by delivering a kiss of his own on your lips. He finally felt at peace. His lids fluttered shut. His head was now resting on your chest, and the rhythm of his heartbeat was keeping any of his fear at bay.

« You will never be like him, Shoto. You’re your own person, a wonderful person that is. I wish I could list all your qualities but I’m not really sure if I’d have enough time. You make me feel loved like no one else, your smile can light up a whole room, your heart is made of gold and you’re never afraid to stand up for what you believe in. Baby, I’m so proud of you, you have no idea. I fell in love with Shoto before I fell in love with Todoroki. I love everything about you, even the parts you hate the most about yourself. » Shoto secretly thanked himself for having his eyes closed, or else, he was sure he would have let a tear or two slip away as your words sunk in. « I know I don’t say it enough, forgive me for that, but I love you. And truth be told, you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. » He kissed these words into your skin, making sure they would stay with you at all times. You kissed the top of his head while your fingers were busy stroking his bi-colored hair.

« I love you too, Shoto. » It was simple, but it was enough for him, it meant the world to him. Your presence, your smell, your touch, your voice were all kinds of drugs he was addicted to, and to be frank, he wasn’t interested in finding a cure.

« Do you know why I now know why I will never be like him? Like my father? » The sound of his voice was almost inaudible as he pronounced the last word, not really caring to put an emphasis on someone who didn’t deserve such attention. « Tell me, baby. »

« Because I have you by my side, and as long as you’re here, I know I will never end up like this excuse of a man. » His response caused you to hold him tighter, to let him know that you were right there and you would never trade him for anything else in the world. He felt at peace, it was so soothing, just what he needed. And now your words were echoing in his mind instead of his father’s horrendous statements. Your voice was all he needed to chase all the nightmares away.

« Oh my gosh! Uraraka, quick! Come here, come here, and get your phone ready! » « Wh-… How cute! Look at them sleeping so peacefully while cuddling! Ahhh, is this what love is? So romantic! » Uraraka couldn’t help but swoon over the fairytale worthy scenery happening before her eyes. She quickly got her phone ready on camera mode and snapped a few pictures, all in different angles, while still being extremely careful not to wake you up. Both Mina and Uraraka shared the biggest grin while contemplating at the pictures and letting a few « Aww! », « That’s so adorable » and others « I wish I had this » escape. You told Shoto you could protect him from his nightmares, however, you weren’t sure if you could protect him from class 1-A’s best photographers.

#shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #shouto x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #todoroki oneshot #todoroki imagine

[scribeofmorpheus]

Himmeløyne [20/?]

Pairing: Loki Odinson x Reader

Catch Up Here | Masterlist

Warnings: None

A/N: Nothin’ to report Cap’n

Taglist is open! Reblog, comment or leave a like please ☺

~Y/N

Heimdall’s grip on your forearm seemed impossible. Strong and restrained all at once. One ounce of added pressure and you thought he’d splinter your arm to the marrow of the bone. A little less and his hold would feel none-existent.

Maybe it wasn’t just strength you were feeling from him. Maybe it was his mind. Your magic was returning faster than you’d anticipated, and it was returning changed. Sharper. More attuned to the senses, not just gut instinct.

“What are you thinking?” he pulled you aside to a corner of the room. Sif and Hogun took their time getting closer. They were letting the two of you air things out, in what little air space you had.

You were too preoccupied with the prospect of having a way to wake Loki so close in hand to answer him. Brushing his words aside, you asked instead: “What did the mirror show you?”

“This is not the time to be putting trust in prophecies or tomes of magic,” he cautioned. “Magic is never to be trusted.”

“It felt familiar,” you brushed the pads of your thumbs against your bristling nails. “Like returning to a moment I know has happened before.”

“Y/N, are you even listening to me?”

“What did the mirror show you?” you pressed again.

Heimdall sighed, taking a moment to gather himself. Sif spoke on his behalf, pleading his case further.

“Heimdall is right, magic is unknowable, especially dark magics. It was dangerous for us to simply open a portal into Odin’s throne room, this is extradimensional travel. There’s always a price, and not just the one The Collector is asking.” She glanced over at the eccentric man with noticeable blue powder painted on his eyelids. His fur coat seemed extravagant for a such a steely place as Knowhere. With your sight back, you could see the architecture of it; the Celestial head. It was wrought, like the inside of the village blacksmith’s melting pot. “He cannot be trusted. He always works an angle, always to his benefit. We found Bestla’s amulet, we’ll find another way.”

“An amulet we traded for with a stolen heirloom,” you shot back, staring at the archaic design of beads and wolf fangs strung onto rope the likes of which you’d never seen before. It looked like such a human thing, rather than a god’s piece of jewellery. You couldn’t help but notice that you sensed nothing from it. No magic. No pulse. No power. Most objects sung or cried or whispered in their own way, some objects held the essence of magic wielders long after they had left, but the amulet was silent. “Once Odin realises what we have done…” you shook your head clear of unnecessary thoughts. “He is probably already looking for us. There is no other way. Not if we mean to save time.”

“But an eye?” Heimdall’s voice came off louder than even he anticipated. His brows shot up in surprise of his outburst.

“I’ll still have the one,” you cracked a wavering smile.

Heimdall clenched his jaw. From the look on his face, you knew he wasn’t going to try and talk you out of it. You were too stubborn. Too much like your mother. Too much like him as the days passed.

“We should hurry,” you turned towards the emporium.

“Endlessness,” Heimdall said suddenly. “As always. All I saw in the mirror was the endlessness of space. The endlessness of my watch. These eyes, they see everything, everything but my own fate. What did it show you?”

“That we succeed.”

  The extraction was painless. A side effect of the strange poultice The Collector’s assistant had given you. It was the hollowness thereafter that felt strange, other. A subtle sting began to grow increasingly more noticeable, the throb and heat were concentrated around your left temple—where you were now eyeless. A simple wrapping of cloth was used to hide the fresh wound.  

“Magnificent,” The Collector had placed your eye in a skull made of quartz and azure, a likeness to your face. How he managed to make it so quickly eluded you, but something told you this man’s ways would continue to do so. An invisible aura refracted the light off the skull in endless streams of rainbows, the kind seen on water surfaces, not skies. An enchanted item no doubt, the only way to preserve your eye.

“I trust you will fulfil your end of the deal.” Heimdall looked at The Collector with menace.

“Of course, of course,” The Collector stopped marvelling at the skull and directed everyone from the back of his emporium to the mirror. He reached into a concealed pocket sewn inside the sleeve of his coat and pulled out a small blade, talon shaped. “Your hand.”

Reluctantly, you presented your open palm towards him. His blade cut deep into your finger. A rivulet of blood snaked around the endless spirals of your finger’s lines. You thought of the snake in the cave. Before it fell, The Collector guided your finger to draw a runic symbol on the back of your other hand, and another on your forehead that was the tracing of two circles, one within the other.

Sif’s eyes went large when she saw the symbol, “Those are—”

“I know,” Heimdall said gravely.

Hogun tensed up as well. The show of bravery you’d been putting on began to crack. You took a double-take at the rune and realised it wasn’t Asgardian, neither was it Nordic. The symbol was of a language you’d never encountered before.

“The mirror is ancient, and magics were always much cruder before the Asgardian ways,” The Collector explained. Something about the way he said those words sounded off. Heimdall let out a hum. Disapproving as they were of late, this one sounded different. It wasn’t directed at you but The Collector. “Now then, this rune will bind you to your body. Entering the mirror is dangerous. You will see all manner of visions. What was, what is, what will never be and what is yet to be. It is said, the mirror world is built on the ranches of Yggdrasil itself. Do not stray from the path or you will be lost to the worlds within.”

“Heimdall,” Sif kept her voice controlled as she grabbed his wrist, shooting him a warning glance.

“This is her choice,” he calmly removed her arm from his wrist, but his jaw clenched again. He was rattled too.  

You swallowed, focusing on the mirror and its three reflections of you instead. “How will I know not to stray from the path?”

The Collector smiled. That worried you. “I do not know. I have never travelled inside the mirror myself.”

You walked up to the mirror. The blood rune began to glow the colour of a red sunset. The sting in your hollow eye-space forgotten for a new sensation that bristled through you. That tell-tale prickling beneath the skin. That ominous sense of power coursing through your veins and rushing to your head before a spell was cast. That cold shiver down your spine when you instantly thought of the husk you’d turned into in the throne room—to the void-self burning with the desire to do one thing, and one thing only: destroy.

Your heart ached, and you had to grab ahold of the pedestal where the book laid. When your glowing hand came close to the leathery cover, a rush of air swept through the room. The book slammed open, and pages upon pages tore themselves from the bindings, floating in the air like tattooed, browning clouds. There was a reddish dye that branched unevenly, as if drawn by chaos across every page. Instinct told you to raise your hand. Magic followed after. All the pages aligned themselves to form a tapestry that would have been impossible to realise if the pages were still bound. The dye formed an image of a tree with nine rings bisecting its largest bough. Yggdrasil bloomed into view, the pages wafting that distinct scent of sap from the tree that wept near the village meadow during autumn.

Five runes burned themselves into your mind. You couldn’t read them, you knew you couldn’t, but every fibre of your being said otherwise. Your voice trembled, anxious to speak words you’d never spoken before. It was a kind of possession. One of knowledge, a hunger to understand.

Is this what it feels like for him? You wondered, imagining Loki in his library, always yearning to learn more. Always reaching into the beyond spaces, trying to understand the very mechanisms of the universe itself.

Speak the words, the whisper returned to circle like a flock of ravens in your head. Its voice was clearer, more demanding. Speak the words!

You did as the voice commanded. Throaty, drawn-out words unfurled from your lips. It was then that the spark ignited in your memory. These were words you’d heard before. In the village, during the massacre. You were speaking Jotun, the language of the giants.

With the ending of the final word, the drawing of the tree turned to solid light. The burn of a star’s heart shone into the entire room. It was so intense you thought everything would burn in a blaze, but there was no heat. A muffled scream rippled behind you. The pull towards the light blanked out all thoughts, and with almost divine clarity, as though stepping forward were all that mattered, you followed the pull into the burning tree of light.

It has begun, the whisper said victoriously. The undoing of the past. The undoing of the sins of the father!

#loki #loki imagine #loki x y/n #loki x reader #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki marvel #tom hiddleston #odin #himmeløyne

[the107thh]

Written for @starkly as a part of the Starker Kink Exchange 2020 ( @starkerkink) This was a ton of fun to write and I hope you love it! 💕

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark

Summary: He felt his cock twitch in the tight constrains of his jeans, a wave of nauseous arousal swelling in him at the thought. And that, well, that was new. Tony had certainly never thought about fucking his son before, but now that he was… and now that his son was Peter… there was something shamefully hot about the situation, about the thought of fucking his own kid. 

Tags: Incest, Parent/Child Incest, Accidental Incest, Established Relationship, Implied Age Difference, Blowjobs, Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, Spitting, Praise Kink, Wet & Messy, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Rough Sex, Mild Size Kink, Coming Untouched

Read on AO3

Tony knew the rumors- he had heard the whispers, the murmured implications about his and Peter’s relationship. He’d been in the spotlight for too long to miss it, to be blind to what others said about him. But he also knew how to ignore it. Too much had been said about Tony Stark throughout his life, too many nasty, hurtful things, for the little rumors to affect him any more.

Peter, though, he was new to this. Sweet, doe-eyed Peter had never experienced the vitriol that an angry reporter could come up with, or the baseless accusations that a paparazzo would hurl to get a reaction, and those same whispers hurt him, hit him somewhere deep.

That was what made Tony do it, had made him anonymously send off a sample of their saliva to be DNA tested. He would do anything to protect Peter… and this seemed like the next natural step.

Because it wasn’t just their age gap that had caught the press’ attention, it was that coupled with Tony’s practically unaccounted for, but certainly promiscuous, twenties. Their matching brown eyes didn’t help, and neither did the distinctive slope of their noses, or any other of a million traits that the press had pointed out.

The evidence was damn near undeniable, but Tony knew better. He would’ve known if he had a kid, if he’d gotten some girl pregnant. Plus, Mary Parker had been married, a good girl, and Tony didn’t fuck married women… most of the time. Either way, Peter wasn’t his kid, no matter how much he called the older man Daddy, and Tony was going to prove it.

He’d set the manila envelope on top of a dozen others scattered on his desk, unopened and waiting for Peter to arrive after his classes were over. Tony already felt guilty about sending the samples off without telling his boyfriend, and he figured the least he could do was have them open the results together.

So he waited.

He got lost in a million other projects that needed his attention, hunched over his desk and music blaring.

Soon enough, Tony’s concentration was broken by the quiet ding of the elevator, and Peter bounding into the workshop. He immediately went over to the older man, drawing him into a gentle embrace as he pressed their lips together.

“Hey sweetheart,” Tony murmured, pulling Peter closer and tightening his arms around the boy. “Gotta surprise for you.”

“Mm, yeah?” Peter replied, pulling back to make eye contact, smiling gently as he spoke, “Got a present for me?”

“Not quite,” Tony drew back, reluctantly breaking the embrace to reach for the manila envelope sitting innocuously on his desk, “Thought we could finally put those rumors to rest, get some reporters off our back.”

Peter chuckled, sliding the envelope open with one slim finger. He pulled out the results, skimming over the printed words before his face suddenly went pale.

“Tony… this, this isn’t funny,” Peter whispered, a splotchy flush rising on his cheeks.

“What do you mean, sweetheart?” Tony asked, brow furrowed in confusion at Peter’s reaction.

“It… it says you’re my Dad. That… that can’t be right.”

Tony grabbed the paper from Peter’s weak grasp, scanning his eyes over the paper- and- “Fuck.”

He looked up to see Peter staggering away from him, trembling as he moved towards the couch that sat in the middle of the workshop.

Peter sat down heavily, shock radiating from every pore. “You… you’re actually my dad,” He looked up at Tony, cheeks flushed and eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“Baby-“ Tony began, voice low and hoarse, “It’s gonna be okay, we… we-“ But he didn’t know how to finish that sentence, didn’t know what exactly they were going to do. Because what did you do when you found out that your boyfriend, the man you love, the man you’ve been fucking, is actually your son?

He felt his cock twitch in the tight constrains of his jeans, a wave of nauseous arousal swelling in him at the thought. And that, well, that was new. Tony had certainly never thought about fucking his son before, but now that he was… and now that his son was Peter… there was something shamefully hot about the situation, about the thought of fucking his own kid.

But now certainly wasn’t the time to think about that, Peter was still hunched over on the couch, red faced and trembling, and Tony had to do something, anything, to fix it.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” Tony murmured, moving to kneel at Peter’s feet. “It’s gonna be okay, we don’t have to tell anyone, we can just keep denying the rumors as best as we can.”

Peter nodded tremulously, still not daring to look up at the other man, so Tony did what he did best and kept rambling to fill the silence. “I love you, Pete, this isn’t going to change that. We can just keep doing what we have been, dating, and just… try to forget all of this.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Peter asked, voice quiet as he finally looked up at Tony. The older man’s heart stuttered in his chest, his whole body going cold with fear. “You… you want to break up with me?”

“No! Tony, God no. I mean…” Peter paused, clearing his throat nervously and reaching out for Tony’s hands, clutching them tightly within his own. “What if I don’t want to forget? What if I… like that you’re my Dad?”

Tony’s breath stutters again, but for a different reason this time, as he is suddenly, painfully, hard in his jeans. “You… you like that I’m your Dad?”

“I know it’s weird, I know… but, yeah?” The younger man shifts in his seat, but not nervously, like Tony had thought before… more like, like he was hard, like he was as desperate for it as Tony was. He could practically feel the tension filling the room, the mood changing as he shifted where he was kneeling. Before he could respond though, Peter kept talking.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, it- it’s fucked up, I shouldn’t… be thinking like this, I just-“

“Peter, baby, it’s okay,” Tony interrupted, squeezing the young man’s hands tighter within his own.

“But it’s not!” Peter replied, frantic and breathy, “You probably think I’m some kind of… of freak, and I-“

And no, that’s not right, Peter’s freaking out, panicking, and Tony’s kneeling there hard in his jeans and he doesn’t know what else to say so instead of saying anything, he pulls Peter’s hand down, uncurling his fingers and pressing his hand into the stiffness of his cock.

Peter’s mouth closes with a snap, blinking confusedly as he stares up at Tony, “You…?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t… Maybe we shouldn’t be thinking like this, but I like it too, sweetheart,” Tony murmurs, pushing forward into the squeezing warmth of Peter’s, of his son’s, hand.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby,” Tony leaned forward, lips brushing against the curve of Peter’s ear as he whispered his next words to him. “Don’t know what it is, but I fucking love it, love the idea that you’re my son, that I’ve been fucking you with the cock that made you, and the whole goddamn time you’ve been calling me Daddy and we had no fucking clue.”

Peter moaned brokenly, twisting his head around to press his lips desperately against Tony’s, already needy and desperate as he melted into the kiss.

Tony returned the kiss viciously, licking and biting his way into Peter’s mouth as he pushed him to lay on the couch, pressing him into the cushions with his own weight.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Tony groaned, huffing out the words as he moved to bite along the tender skin of Peter’s neck, “Wanna get inside of you, wanna fuck that sweet little hole.”

“Please Daddy,” Peter mewled, pushing his hips up and into Tony’s, “‘M made for you, Daddy, made to take your cock.”

“Yeah you are baby boy, perfect little body, just for your Daddy- But that’s not what you wanna call me, is it? ‘Cause I’m not just your Daddy, am I, Pete?” Tony practically growled the words, pressing his hips down in a filthy grind that had Peter’s eyes rolling back in his head.

“Fuck,” Peter exclaimed, choking on the word as he twitched beneath the other man, already overwhelmed by sensation.

“Say it,” Tony murmured, lacing one hand into Peter’s hair, pulling his head back and forcing him to make eye contact, “Go on, baby, what do you wanna call me?”

The boy whined, clenching his eyes shut before choking out the words, “Dad, please, fuck me!”

“That’s it,” Tony growled, sinking his teeth into the tender expanse of skin between Peter’s shoulder and neck, “Beg for your Dad’s dick, baby, beg for the cock that made you.” He ran broad hands up the Peter’s sides, slipping them under his shirt and pulling, tugging until it was off, and Peter’s chest was bared beneath him.

He immediately turned his attention to the delicate buds of Peter’s nipples, sucking the left one into his mouth as the boy struggled for words beneath him.

Peter laced one hand into Tony’s hair, pulling him closer as he whined at the stimulation, “Please, Dad, want it so bad, ‘m so hard for you, I can’t- I can’t wait anymore, please!”

“Good boy,” Tony murmured, relishing in the shiver that wracked the boy’s body at the praise, “Your Dad’s gonna give it to you, don’t worry sweetheart.” He pulled back reluctantly, kneeling over Peter with a knee on each side of his hips. Peter looked wrecked already, flushed and wanting, his lips spit slick and swollen.

“So pretty for me sweetheart…” Tony ran his hands down the pale expanse of Peter’s sides, savoring the feeling of the smaller boy beneath him. “Wanna suck my cock, baby boy? Wanna get a taste of your Dad’s dick?”

Peter mewled at the thought, gripping Tony’s hips and leaning forward eagerly, desperate for whatever he could get from the older man.

“Easy, baby, Daddy’s gonna give you what you need.” Tony shuffled forward, moving to press Peter’s shoulders into the couch with his knees, before unzipping his jeans and pulling out his throbbing cock, dripping already with precum. “Open up for me sweetheart.”

Immediately, Peter opened his mouth, extending his tongue and looking up at his Dad with pleading eyes. Tony leaned forward, slipping two fingers into the wet warmth of his mouth and spreading them into a V, stretching Peter’s cheeks and framing his tongue with his fingers. “Good boy,” he murmured, before spitting directly into his mouth. Peter whined at the feeling, bucking beneath Tony’s weight.

Tony withdrew his fingers, wiping the spit on them alongside Peter’s jaw before thrusting his cock into the boy’s open mouth before he had a chance to swallow. Peter immediately moaned around the intrusion, eliciting a responding groan from the man above him.

“That’s it, baby, take it for me, take your Dad’s cock,” Tony thrusted shallowly in and out of the boy’s mouth, letting him get used to the sensation before pushing deeper, beginning to fuck Peter’s face in earnest. Spit was seeping out of the corners of Peter’s mouth, slicking the slide of his Dad’s cock as he fucked his face. Tears were pooling in his eyes, beginning to trickle down his face before Tony reached down, smearing the wetness across the boy’s face before pushing all the way down, burying himself in the warmth of Peter’s throat.

“Fuck sweetheart,” Tony grunted, grinding deeper as Peter choked helplessly around his cock, “Gotta be careful or you’re gonna make me cum, and I have plans for that sweet cunt of yours.” He pulled out of the boy’s mouth, wiping the spit slick head of his cock across the plumpness of Peter’s lower lip.

Peter whined at the loss, looking pleadingly up at Tony. “Hush baby, gotta get at that sweet little hole now.” The older man shifted, yanking off Peter’s jeans and groaning at the sight of his hard and flushed cock, and the way it curved up to bump against his toned stomach. “Beautiful, baby boy, should’ve known you were my son all along, with a pretty cock like that.”

”Fuck,” Peter groans, his voice choked and hoarse with arousal. “Please Dad, I-“

“Hush baby, your Dad’s gonna take care of you,” Tony gripped Peter’s hips, rough and bruising, and pulled the boy up, tilting him until he was balanced on his shoulders, pressed into the couch with his legs resting on his Dad’s shoulders. “Just gotta get my mouth on you first, taste my son’s sweet little cunt.” Peter mewled, canting his hips up further, eagerly opening himself for his Dad.

“Good boy,” Tony murmured, hushed and reverent before he leaned forward to lap across the twitching pucker of Peter’s hole, grinning at the moan it pulled from the boy. He licked sloppily around his opening, moaning at the taste in a way that has Peter’s toes curling, his heels pressing harder into the broadness of Tony’s back.

The older man is hungry, greedy as he pushes his tongue into Peter, making a mess of them both with his spit before reaching up to add a finger, pressing slowly into Peter’s warmth.

His son whines at the intrusion, pushing back in a silent plea for more.

“Fuck, Pete, wanted to take my time, give this pussy what it deserves,” Tony groans, shifting to lower Peter back down, splaying his legs open and making a space for himself between them. “But it’s too greedy, huh? You need your Dad’s cock too bad for that.”

Peter nods frantically, wrapping his legs around his Dad and pulling him closer. “Give it to me now, please?”

“Let me stretch you out a bit more, baby, still too tight to take your Dad’s big cock,” As he spoke Tony was leaning over, grabbing the bottle of lube that they had stashed under the couch after one too many lube-less workshop trysts. He quickly lubed up two fingers, sliding them into the tight warmth of Peter’s ass, already loosened from Tony’s tongue.

Tony knows its probably too much too fast, but he also knows that neither of them care, that they’re too worked up and too on edge for anything that’s not rough and on the verge of too much. Peter moans, murmuring pleas and curses as he pushed back against Tony’s hand, nearly incoherent with the need for more.

He scissored his fingers, stretching the boy as best as he could with what patience he had left. “Wanna take me now, sweetheart? Hmm? Wanna feel your Dad’s cock stretch that tight little hole?”

“Fuck, Dad,” Peter whined, cock twitching visibly at the thought, “Please, wanna feel your big cock stretch me out.”

Tony groaned at the thought, swiftly withdrawing his fingers to lube up his throbbing cock instead. He gripped himself firmly, lining himself up before pushing into Peter, moaning at the tight squeeze of his son around his cock.

“That’s it,” Tony murmured, panting as he buried himself in Peter, the boy’s eyes rolling back in his head as he moaned, clenching tightly around his Dad. “Take it all for me, baby.”

“It’s so big, Dad,” Peter whined, his words slurred with pleasure, “‘M so full.” Tony grunted at his words, beginning to fuck roughly in and out of him, the slick squelch of lube and spit filling the room. He tilted his hips as he did, pulling and arranging the boy so that he was nailing his prostate on each thrust.

Peter practically screamed at the sensation, clutching Tony’s arms and digging his nails into the firmness of the muscle there.

“Yeah? You like how your Dad’s cock fills you up?” Tony questioned, tightening his grip on the boys hips, pulling him back against him to meet his thrusts, changing the pace into something quick, brutal. Peter nodded helplessly flushed and thrashing beneath the older man. “’S gonna make me cum, Dad, ‘m gonna cum on your cock.”

“Fuck, sweetheart, wanna feel it, wanna feel you cum on the cock that made you,” Tony growled out, feeling his own orgasm building within him at the thought, at the anticipation of seeing his son cum just from his Dad’s cock fucking him.

Peter cried out, cursing as he threw his head back, cock spurting untouched between them as he came. He clenched down around Tony as he did, causing the older man to quicken his thrusts before he came, filling up his son as he groaned out his own release.

Tony leaned down, hips still twitched helplessly as he connected their lips in a sloppy kiss, exchanging air more than anything else but content in the intimacy anyways.

“Love you, Tony,” Peter murmured, lacing his fingers through the older man’s hair before pulling him closer.

“Love you too, Pete,” Tony replied, grinning, relieved and sated with his son in his arms.

#StarkerKink2020 #Starker #peter parker x tony stark

[takingcourage]

Color and Light

Characters: Thomas Mendez, MC (Allison), and MC’s daughter (Kira) 

Word Count: 2,400

Summary: With Luz away and Allison occupied for the morning, Thomas has a special strategy to pass the time with Kira. 

Note: I’ve been wanting to write a story about Thomas and MC’s daughter for ages. The lack of scenes between them is one of the very few complaints I have about MotY, so I thought I’d fill in a little bit of that gap with this fic. It was originally intended to fulfill a Choices August Challenge (kaleidoscope), but life got hectic in August and it this story was pushed to the back burner. All of that to say, the summer setting and inspiration for this story aren’t quite as random as they may seem. 

I hope you enjoy! Thanks so much for reading. : ) 

Crick. 

Crack. 

Thomas's stride broke as he became aware of the noise. Brow furrowing as he continued toward the kitchen, he mentally filtered through the possible causes: pipes, dishwasher, trash compactor... He was relatively certain that he hadn’t left anything running after making Allison’s coffee a half hour before. Whatever was happening in the kitchen must be taking place without his influence. 

Bracing himself, he rounded the corner. 

Though the room had no windows, the morning light still made its way into the space, relieving his fears before he'd even had a chance to flip the switch back on. 

Nothing.

There was no burst pipe, no invading animal waiting to jump out at him from the countertops, nothing at all out of the ordinary.

It was the ice maker, he realized in relief.

Thomas couldn’t recall the last time the house had been quiet enough for him to make out the background noises. With Luz around, there was always music or the television or the steady thud of soccer drills against the outside wall...With a quick shake of his head, he padded to the other end of the silent kitchen to brew a second carafe of coffee.

The air conditioner was working; he could hear the distinct hum from the upstairs unit keeping the house a pleasant 74 degrees. Soledad had chosen the best. Almost fifteen years in this house, and it had never needed more than routine maintenance to keep things perfectly cool. 

And yet, there was no mistaking the sheen breaking out on the back of his neck.

Stress had been mounting for the past twenty minutes -- ever since Allison had kissed him and slipped through the front door. Ordinarily, he'd be lacing his running shoes by now, determined to master the involuntary responses that his body was lapsing into. Today, he needed to work through it in another way.

Thomas glanced at the microwave clock, performing the calculations as he opened the refrigerator door to retrieve milk and a pair of eggs. Kira had gone to bed around 9:00 the night before. Based on the many nights she'd stayed over at the house since the start of summer, she’d wake up to join him any minute. Hot sweat returned with the confirmation.

This was hardly the first day he’d spent alone with a ten year old. It certainly wasn’t the only time he’d been with Kira without Allison there. But it was the first morning he’d spent without Luz serving as a buffer. Somehow, ten years of experience with one child hadn’t left him feeling prepared to take on the other. 

He was a lawyer and a recovering workaholic, for goodness sake -- hardly the sort of person a preteen girl wanted to spend the day with. 

Lowering the lid on the waffle maker, his eyes glazed over as the steam rose from between the metal plates. He bit down on the inside of his cheek, finally glancing away when the indicator light flickered on.

A creak sounded from the bottom of the stairs, and his heart flew into his throat. He cast a quick glance around the room before peering across the counter to the house’s other occupant. 

“Morning, Kira,” he greeted, voice sounding mostly normal. “How’d you sleep?” 

“Fine. That bunk bed is really comfortable."

“Great!” His response was a little too hasty. Pulling himself back, he topped off his mug of coffee, blew, and watched the wave ripple over the glassy surface. “I took a gamble and made some waffles for breakfast. Does that sound okay to you?”

Kira looked at the metal contraption with a curious half-smile. “It sounds delicious!”

“With orange juice?”

“Mmhmm, thank you,” she confirmed, already climbing onto a barstool. “Did my mom leave for class?”

Thomas snagged a plate from the overhead cabinet and used a pair of tongs to extract a perfectly golden-brown waffle from the mold. “She headed out about half an hour ago,” he answered before sliding her breakfast across the countertop.

Kira’s face puckered with disappointment. “She doesn’t usually leave so early; I thought I’d be up in time to see her.”

“She had to run an errand on the way," he explained. "Do you need to talk to her? You can borrow my phone if you want.”

Food forgotten, she set the syrup upright, its contents slowly oozing back down toward the bottom of the bottle. “That would be great! I wanted to wish her luck on her test.”

Passing her the device, he turned to give her some privacy. By the time he’d rinsed the mixing bowl and unplugged the waffle maker, Kira had composed the message. 

“Keep in in case she texts back,” he suggested, reaching for his coffee again.

“Thanks.” She went back to pouring syrup, alternating squares in the waffle until she’d achieved a checkerboard effect.

Concealing his raised brow, Thomas took another sip of his drink. The two girls could not be more different. With Luz, it was always a challenge to keep her from using half the bottle. Kira’s measured approach was far less troubling by comparison. If the girls already fought like real sisters, they complemented one another perfectly as well. He’d lost track of the number of times that one girl’s vice had been counteracted by the other’s virtue. 

Yet another sign that this is meant to be. 

The phone screen came to life before their eyes, and Kira tapped to view her mother’s message. “She got it in time.” With a grin, she handed it back to Thomas. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.” Based on the angle, there was no way for him to take it without casting an eye over the messages.

Good luck, mom! You’ve got this!⚡️

Thanks! Love you, kiddo. ⚡️

Something within him melted on reading the exchange, though the sensation was quickly replaced by something far less pleasant: fear.

Allison knew Kira so well. It was one of the things that had stood out to them when they’d first met, and it had only become more abundantly clear in the months that had followed. And while Guy didn’t take much of an interest in his daughter’s life, Kira still seemed to thrive on the time they spent together. In short, she already had two parents. Where did that leave him?

Sighing as he slide the phone back into his pocket, he walked around to the other side of the kitchen so he could join her at the counter.

“Thanks for making breakfast,” she acknowledged as he sat down. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“I wanted to. It’s not often that the two of us get to have time together.”

Kira met his eyes with an amused smile. "True, but Luz is going to be jealous when she finds out we had waffles.”

“We’ll make them again when she gets back,” he promised, feeling the anxiety stir his stomach again. Breakfast was easy. If the rest of the morning ran as smoothly, it would be a miracle.

Kira cut another bite and chewed thoughtfully. "You're really good at it. The machine my mom has always burns the middles. Yours are better,” she whispered, green eyes narrowing with the conspiratorial whisper.

“Maybe we should buy her a new machine one of these days.”

Swallowing her bite, Kira regarded him with a creased brow. “But she can just use yours -- we’re over all the time! And it would be silly to buy another one when you’re just going to get married.”

Thomas could only hope that the girl wasn't perceptive enough to notice the way his cheeks darkened at the suggestion. He forced a sip of coffee down and tried to counteract his mortification. “What makes you think we’re getting married?”

“Luz told me she found a ri--” her face froze. “Nevermind. I don’t know anything. Forget I said that.”

Sensing an opportunity, Thomas pressed her further. “Do you want us to get married?”

"Yeah." The corner of her mouth lifted as her eyes crinkled. “Mom’s really happy when she’s with you, and Luz and I would get to be sisters for real! It would be perfect.”

He smiled in agreement before deciding it would be prudent to change the subject. “How should we spend the rest of our morning?” 

Inadvertently, the question came just as she’d placed another forkful of waffle into her mouth. Thomas offered a repentant chuckle as she worked over the bite of food, though she didn’t seem to hold it against him.

“I brought a book,” she informed him after swallowing. “I can be super quiet while you’re working. Oh! Or do you have a case I can help with? I could read tracking numbers to you again if you want.”

“Actually,” he began, growing almost shy with the suggestion, “I was hoping you might be up for a science project today -- whatever you like.” He set his near-empty cup on the marble surface, hoping he hadn’t misstepped.  

“Really?” Her eyes flashed to life again, scrunching up at the corners in exactly the same way Allison’s did when she was passionate about something. Even if he’d never met her mother, the girl’s expression would have been impossible to resist. 

“Really. It would be fun to make something we can show your mom when she gets back this afternoon.”

“And Luz, when she gets back from soccer camp!”

“And Luz,” he added with a grin. He wondered vaguely if the two girls would be so eager to see each other once they were living under the same roof all of the time. “I’ll let you decide on a project while I clean up from breakfast. Doesn’t matter what it is.”

“Okay!” she took a pensive bite while he walked back around to the kitchen. “You’re sure it can be anything?”

“Uhhh,” he wavered, remembering too well the sorts of things that ten-year-old girls were capable of when there were no boundaries. It’s Kira, he had to remind himself. At worst, we’re looking at a bunsen-burner fire or some kind of mild chemical reaction. “Anything,” he confirmed after a pause. 

“Okay, I figured it out,” she announced moments later as he was wiping down the countertops.

“And...?”

“I wanna make a kaleidoscope!”

“Sounds perfect, though I think we’ll need to go on a supply run. Can you make a list?”

She held out one hand to begin ticking items on her fingers. “Well, I’ve already got confetti for the bottom. Faye gave me a bunch from one of her promo boxes and told me to use it for something cool. If we can run by our apartment, I know exactly where it is. After that, we’ll need some PVC pipe, mirrors, a glass cutter, a petri dish....” Still bending her fingers, she paused for further consideration. 

“You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?” 

“I’ve wanted to make one for forever!” Catching herself, she backpedaled a bit. “If you’re sure it’s okay...”

“I have one condition...” Squeezing the excess water from the towel, he draped it over the faucet to dry. Kira’s eyes were glued to him when he turned, her brows slanted with something approaching consternation. “You have to explain what you’re doing each step of the way so I know how it works.”

Her mouth fell open for a beat before snapping shut again. “Sure!”

This time, the smile that came to Thomas’s face was a little more confident. So far, so good.  

_____

For the next several hours, all worries were in vain. There were no awkward silences or stumbling uncertainties. Each minute was consumed with questions and explanations, safety tutorials for cutting glass, excited strategizing, and careful construction. They’d just started clearing up their lunch dishes when Allison’s key clicked in the lock. 

“Mom!” Kira rushed to finish loading her plate in the dishwasher. “How was your test?” Her whole face was lifted in anticipation. 

“I passed with a 96%.”

“You’re so smart, mom!”

Retrieving the elastic band from her wrist, Allison swept her hair into a loose bun at the nape of her neck. “And you’re so sweet. Thanks for the energy zap this morning.”

“Welcome! Do you wanna see what Thomas and I made?”

At Allison’s eager nod, Kira led her to the den. Thomas stayed behind until the rest of the dishes were in the machine, content to hear their lively chatter a couple of rooms away. 

When he joined them, Allison was waiting by the arched doorway. “Kira’s never going to forget this. I can’t thank you enough.”

"The pleasure was mine. And I have to admit, it was a very educational day for me. I didn’t realize how rusty I’d gotten in geometry and physics.”

“She’ll keep your mind sharp, that one.”

“One of the many perks to having the two of you around.”

“Ooh! Look at this!” Kira called out in the closest thing to a shriek that he’d ever heard from her. “The pattern is sooo cool. It looks like a gamma-ray burst!”

Taking the proffered object, he held it to his eye and squinted until he had a proper view. Between the mirrors and the lights, Faye’s bits of paper had taken on new life in a pattern that was at once both uniform and wild. And though he had only the faintest idea what a gamma-ray burst looked like, satisfaction took hold of him as he gazed through the tiny opening.

Since her birth, Luz had been his light. She’d carried him through on the days when he hadn’t even been certain he wanted to go on. For a time, that light had been all he’d needed. But Allison and Kira had brought more to the equation: a beauty, a vibrance, a curiosity and passion for life that he hadn’t even realized he’d been missing. Together, the three of them made for a fuller world than he had ever thought possible. 

“Did you know they’re the brightest explosions in the universe?”

“I didn’t,” he whispered, careful not to shift the design as he passed the cylinder back to Kira. 

Thomas settled next to Allison, her shoulder a comfortable weight against his while they listened to the enthusiastic science lesson that followed. As her fingers sought his, Thomas’s thoughts drifted (ever so slightly) to the ring Luz had found a few days before. If all went the way he was hoping, his home -- and his life -- would never be colorless again. 

#playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #mother of the year #thomas mendez #thomas mendez x mc

[modestlyabsurd]

Just a Dance (Loki x Reader)

"Let's hear it for the gride and broom!"

The formal crowd of green and red erupts into applause, and your glass of green punch fogs up from a sudden laugh after seeing a tipsy Tony Stark on the stagefront - using the microphone stand as a cane.

Having never been fond of line dancing but finding it very entertaining to watch, you nestled yourself away from the commotion by the food bar, lined with tables under black cloths and stacked high with elegant dishes, to observe the dance floor. The cha-cha slide never disappoints; the look of concentration on Peter's face as he tried (and failed) to hit the poses was enough, but add that to the honest yet terrible attempts from the "gride and broom" and you've got a beautifully orchestrated shit show.

Tony's drunken voice continues to blubber incoherent sounds of happiness over the crowd. "Where are you guys anyway? Get up here - blurgh - it's sappy mushy speech time, come on!" With that, everyone encourages the newlyweds up to the stage.

Even from your nook, the brightness of the couple's smiles are blinding, nevermind the spotlights following them along. You feel your cheeks getting tighter as an unconscious smile spreads across them, marvelling at how Bruce lovingly carries Natasha's long, white train up the steps. Her red lips and braided hair contrast gorgeously against her dreamy wedding gown, and Bruce can't take his eyes away - nor can either of them help the huge, toothy grins on their faces.

A hopeful phenomenon. Two tortured souls who found peace and love in one another. You knew no one deserved it more.

Natasha urges Bruce to speak first. He makes a face, but happily obliges nonetheless. "I guess this thing's on then?" he says, eliciting modest laughs from the people. "Ah, thank you all again for being here, hope you're having as good a time as we are. Thanks again to Tony for providing us with pretty much everything, from the venue, to the decorations, to the food, to the music, to gifts, to our honeymoon - this could go on for another forty-five minutes,"

"Hey," says a deep voice; you turn to find a sharp-dressed man-bunned Thor standing next to you. "Missed you on the dance floor."

You offer a smile. "Not exactly my cup of tea. Neither is this, though," you swirl your punch around.

"The red one is far superior," says Thor, stepping around you to ladle himself another glass. "Have you tried it?"

"Yeah, that's the spiked one. No wonder you like it more." You hear Bruce speaking of how trapped he felt for so long, until Natasha swindled her way into his life and somehow made him feel worthy of living.

"Really? Hm, I couldn't tell. But you have a point, it's at least a bit better than that," says Thor, though you barely hear him - and when he meets your eyes, you don't really see him either. "Everything alright?"

"Hm?" you chirp. "Oh yeah, I'm fine. Why you ask?"

"You just seem ... elsewhere, I suppose. But perhaps it's my own longing disguising itself as someone else's." he says nonchalantly, looking to the floor and downing his glass of red punch in one go.

You open your mouth for a humorous response before you see a wave of sadness wash over Thor. Instead, you nudge his tree trunk of an arm, "C'mon. I give it two weeks before Jane comes back."

He scoffs dismissively and draws a pattern on the floor with his shoe. "Sure. She, erm ... has she, mentioned anything about it, to you?"

"Actually, make it one week."

It was indicated that Bruce's speech had ended when the crowd started cheering and the lights dimmed. With the spotlights still on Natasha and Bruce, they hold each other intimately close and dance to another slow song below the stage. The band's soft guitar and bass vibrates from the soles of your feet up through your bones, all the way to the condensating glass in your hand. It was both a riveting and soothing sensation all at once.

A few feet away, you spot a familiar dark figure weaving through the dancing couples toward you and Thor. As his confident strides bring him into clearer view, your mouth suddenly feels like it's full of cotton and the room gets warmer. Wishing to just become invisible, you attempt to busy yourself with one of the vast cheese platters nearby - haphazardly, having no idea which cracker goes with goat's milk brie or which fruit goes with English Stilton.

He emerges and taps the shoulder of his oblivious brother's maroon blazer. "Don't blame the messenger, but a drunken game of truth or dare has resulted in your friends attempting to lift Mjolnir."

"Gah, not again!" Thor slams his glass on the table, causing some of the cake and hors d'oeuvres to rattle, before running away and disappearing in the sea of people. You're left alone with Loki, and your invisibility attempt has resulted in a not so nice bite of smoked gouda and white grapes.

Next thing you know, your punch glass is empty and your mouth is still dry.

Loki makes a point to look into your eyes rather than gawk at your formal wear as others have already done. It's a breath of fresh air, yet at the same time, his small, polite smile makes you forget how to breathe altogether. You force a smile of your own despite your growing nerves.

"How can you be enjoying yourself tucked away from the fun like this?" says Loki. His voice reminds you of melted chocolate, which draws your attention to the gloriously flowing chocolate fountain across the room. Enticing as it was, looking at the confection was a futile effort to avoid staring at Loki's dark green suit and black bowtie, or his new short curly hair that worked so well.

"You're one to talk. Haven't seen you having much fun either," the words flow smoothly. A nice surprise.

"I never said I was enjoying myself."

You laugh and shrug in concurrence. "I dunno, it's better than it seems. I'm here with all the food and drinks, everyone else is busy, and I have a bird's eye view of the dance floor."

Loki reaches an arm around you and grabs a finger sandwich; the brief closeness sends pleasant goosebumps over your neck. "I suppose. But wouldn't it be nice to see it up close?" he asks. The way he deftly held and nibbled the tiny food ... Jeez. How in the world can someone make eating a sandwich attractive?

In desperate need of a distraction, you turn to the three tier display of sandwiches and take one at random. From your side vision you see Loki anticipating your answer, so you reply with a mouthful of cucumber and cream cheese, "I don't dance."

"Oh, come on. Will you dance for me?"

You stop chewing to stare at him wordlessly.

"Ahem, bad choice of words," he clears his throat and says with a grimace. "I do beg your pardon. Rather," he extends a chivalrous hand toward you, "will you dance with me?"

The disbelief that Loki wants to dance with you, out of all the single people around - most of whom aren't chipmunking all the snacks - it almost leaves you dumbfounded. Almost being the keyword, being as how you took his hand so quickly. The coldness of it shocked you a bit, but the lightness and warmth of his hold made you feel safe. As if you could hold on, or even let go if you wanted, and he wouldn't mind.

He lead you to the center of the floor. The two of you were engulfed by the sea of people dressed in dark shades of red and green, dancing closely to the music. Just as the anxiety began to set in, Loki lifted your interlocked hands up to shoulder level and held you just beneath your ribcage with his other hand. Your mind is whirring, you can't decide if your shivers stem from anxiety, the temperature of Loki's skin, or the mere fact that you can smell him and it's driving you a little crazy.

He squeezed your hand, and patiently placed your free arm around his shoulder. Breathe, you remind yourself. Relax. It's just a dance. It's nothing. The vibrations from the music soothed you, slowly swept you away from your worries. When you dared to reopen your eyes, you found that it was not only the band, but Loki's gentle swaying that carried away your fears.

"See? It's not so bad."

You shake your head. "Just wait until I step on your feet."

He looked at you and you looked at him. You, a clumsy bag of bones, and he, a skillful puppeteer, gracefully carrying your bodies' movements. You both smiled. Like pots of water, overflowing with nervousness and happiness alike.

As he found you relaxing and absorbing the moment, Loki finds himself gazing at the way your hair is framing your face. It hangs and accentuates the softness of your features, but somehow reflects a distinct royalty in you, despite there being none. He can't bring himself to look away. You hadn't seemed to notice that the song had ended and a new slow song had begun to play, and Loki didn't bring it to your attention.

Rather, he brought your warm hand in his grasp up around his shoulder, matching the other, and placed his own hand to match the one at your side. He was testing the waters, really, and was relieved that you offered no protests to his actions. In fact, you seemed to meld into him further by laying your head on his chest, making his heart jump miles into the air.

He was good at concealing his emotions. Or he thought he was. Before you.

The light vibration of your voice against his sternum pulls him from his thoughts. "Pardon?" he asks.

"What are you wearing?"

He glances at himself. "A suit."

"I can see that, dipshit," you chide. "I meant what Asgardian fragrance are you wearing?"

"Oh," Loki croaks, biting away a sting of embarrassment. "I dunno. Must be my natural scent. Pheromones, as your human science says."

"Liar," you playfully squint your eyes at him.

He raises a hand with three fingers, "Scout's honor."

If you could facepalm without breaking away from Loki, you'd punch yourself in the face. "That's, that's not how it works - "

"Shhhhh ... we don't speak of the Scout's rules," he presses your head back into his chest with an open hand, subsequently silencing your laughs and concealing his own blushed cheeks from your view.

"I just realized something."

"What?" he says cheerfully.

You pull your head up to look at Loki. "Everyone in this room is staring at us."

Discreetly, Loki looks around and sure enough is met with many prying eyes. It made you want to crouch behind his legs to hide, but since that's not socially acceptable, you study Loki's dark green Victorian jacket. Is there food on you or something?

But he, on the other hand, lapped up every bit of the attention of the wedding guests. He flexes his fingers a bit, pinching your hips; a gentle reminder of his closeness to you. "Mm, perhaps they're jealous."

"Jealous of what?" you wonder. People are whispering under their breath in a way that instantly made your palms sweat. You try to decipher what they're saying, but all that's clear is that you're the topic.

"Of me."

"Psh. Yeah, you're probably right." You allow your eyes to drift over to his slightly crooked bowtie. It accentuates his boyishness; it sends butterflies through your chest and down to your belly.

"Do you know why they're jealous of me?"

"I mean, I can think of a few reasons."

His cheekbones round out as he smiles. "Well there's one reason in particular that is driving them all mad at the moment. Aside from my mere existence, of course."

A laugh puffs from your throat. "What is it?"

"It's the fact that I'm dancing with the one person that everyone in this room wishes to dance with."

You blink, as his bowtie seems to become a blobby rectangle shape. Me? you think. The room was already too warm, and now your face is uncontrollably heating up. You notice the scuffs on his shiny black dress shoes.

"You're crazy."

Loki looks up momentarily, feeling warmed from the inside out by you. The damp hands placed around his neck are all that's holding him on the ground. "Call me what you will - I know envy when I see it."

You miss a beat and step on his toes, but he doesn't react; in the same moment, the lights brighten, as the crowd began to applaud and mindlessly you did too. The dance was over.

When you turn back, you find that the lights have enhanced Loki's vivid green eyes. They were happy. They captivated you entirely, drew you in to him. You felt drunk; Loki was your liquor and you'd drank more than you ever had before. Someone's speaking on stage but you don't hear them. It's just you and Loki.

Cold, fingers sweep behind your neck and effortlessly bring your mouth to his. Drunk, without inhibitions, you allow for the kiss to deepen and Loki obliges, but only modestly, mindful of the ever prying eyes. You couldn't have been further from them. His hands held you in place, kept you tamed. He pulled away ever so slightly to let you breathe - and indeed you needed to, for you were breathless completely.

It took all you had not to kiss him again and never stop.

"YAAAAAS!" someone shouted.

You and Loki both turn and find Peter cheering like an idiot. And if for some reason you were imagining everyone staring earlier, though somewhat preoccupied, they're definitely staring now. Mentally you were screaming at Loki to poof you two away from it all as you hid your face in his lapels. The scent of him encased you in a fleeting blanket of safety.

"Please," Loki assures - still holding your hand, "there's nothing to see here. Do return to the party."

And they did. They listened to Loki without another glance. As they dispersed to mingle, you caught sight of Natasha and Bruce across the room; you mouth an apology to Natasha, but she shrugs it off with a smile and a knowing wink. Which didn't help the the fact that your face might as well be melting from embarrassment.

An icy breath in your ear takes the wind out of you.

"What did I tell you? They're all envious of me. Because of you."

~

🎶they come runnin bustin down all the doors

cuz EVERY girl's crazy bout a sharp-dressed Thor 🎶

tag list: @sydneyss-worlddd @afinedilemma @fire-in-her-veinz @belladonnabarnes @drakesfiance @internetgremlin @dragon-chica @triggeredpossum @tarynkauai @sadwaywardkid

#loki x reader #loki imagine #loki series #loki #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #tom hiddleston #thor #thor odinson #the avengers #avengers #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #avengers endgame #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #mcu #modestlyabsurd

[tealin]

Castle Rock

As always, if the images aren't showing up on Tumblr, I invite you to visit the post at its original location on http://twirlynoodle.com/blog

There are a number of hiking and skiing trails around McMurdo Station.  Some, like the Arrival Heights track, one can do alone and without giving notice; others, like the Castle Rock Loop, go far enough from the station and through questionable enough terrain that one has to check out, travel with a partner, and take radios in case of emergency.

I have become a great fan of the country walk in the UK.  You dive into a beautiful morning on a promising footpath, refuel at a pub, keep walking all afternoon, maybe a quick half at another pub, then fall into bed all topped up on nature and exercise endorphins.  Having been shuttled nearly everywhere in Antarctica via a motor vehicle of some sort, I was desperate to stretch my legs and cover some of Antarctica myself.  I wanted to visit Castle Rock anyway, and the trip there and back was about the length of a leisurely country walk back home, so it was a natural thing to do once all my planned trips were over.  My coordinator's opposite number is an avid hiker so he and I set out one sunny morning to put some miles on our sturdy boots.

The track is scenic and adventurous without being too arduous, so the Castle Rock Loop is a popular hike for the locals, as you can tell by the well-trammelled path in the photo above.  Its full extent loops down to Scott Base and around back to McMurdo, but the shoreline down there didn't hold much interest and I'd done the route between Scott Base and McMurdo loads of times, so we just walked to Castle Rock and back.

It was a beautiful day.  Much like the day I went up to Arrival Heights, it was calm, sunny, and hovering around freezing, the sort of conditions I insisted on calling 'picnic weather' long after the joke wore off.  We also had an amazing low layer of thin cloud, which I unromantically call 'pond scum clouds' in my head, rather an unfair name as not only are they sometimes iridescent but they create wonderful light effects on the ground beneath them.  On this day they were penned against Ross Island and cast their dappled shadows over Windless Bight, thereby showing up the perspective and giving everything the suggestion of being underwater.

Away from Ross Island the sky was clear, and from up here on the spine of the peninsula you could see pretty much everything, including Williams Field, where I'd spent so much time recently:

There's nothing like a pure white background to show you how much pollution our internal combustion engines spew out – that smoke plume is, I believe, from a C-130 which was warming up to take off that day.  It's a lot better than coal, but we've got a long way to go yet.

Humans' rudimentary flying machines are not the only thing to have emitted noxious gases into the Antarctic atmosphere.  Mt Erebus still puffs away with the occasional mild eruption, but the Hut Point Peninsula is an artefact of a more active volcanic past.  Much of the rock is obviously igneous, black or grey and spongy with bubbles, and most of the hills that stand up from the body of the peninsula are old volcanic craters, which spewed that aerated rock in ages past.  Castle Rock is similar in origin, but gets its distinctive shape from having been an sub-glacial volcano, rather than a surface cinder cone.  It's not exactly a volcanic plug, like the Devil's Tower in Wyoming, where the central chamber of a volcano solidified into a tower of basalt and the softer layers on the outside eroded away.  Rather it is the volcano, having melted its way up through thick ice, which held its sides almost vertical while new layers of lava were deposited on top.  This stratification, as well as the way the igneous rock has weathered orange-brown, makes it look more like sandstone than basalt to the casual observer, especially one who's spent so much time in the parks of southern Utah.

It feels enormous when you're standing under it – the name 'Castle Rock' is well-deserved – but when compared to other sub-glacial volcanoes (for instance Tuya Butte) it is but a teeny tiny fairy volcano.

This southeast face is the most precipitous; the north side slopes more and there is a climbing trail up it, should one wish to scramble a bit.  It was just on the verge of opening for use when we visited, so we didn't climb.  We did take as many pictures as we could, staying on marked paths, but before long it was time to turn around and head back again.

We stopped at a small shelter we'd passed on the way up, which you can just see as a little red blob in the photo above.  It is officially known as an Apple , but some refer to it as a Tomato, which it more closely resembles if you ask me.  It's an emergency shelter, in case you happen to be doing the Castle Rock Loop when a blizzard blows up, and it is actually rather cosy inside.

Further along the trail, the familiar landmarks of McMurdo rose into view.

That's Observation Hill on the left, and Arrival Heights on the right, with the "Golf Ball" under Mt Discovery in the middle.

As you may be able to guess from the above photo, the slope dips more steeply as we approach the base, and because of this it catches the afternoon and evening sun, and gets very icy.  We both had good hiking boots but not crampons, so on the way up had tried to climb by the snowier sections. I was looking forward to sliding down on my coat on the return journey but alas it wasn't quite steep or slippery enough for that – the best I could manage was a slow bum-scoot, which was fun but not exactly efficient.  However, it got me close to some funny features I'd noticed on the way up.

My guide explained that they form when a rock gets blown onto the slope. Being dark, it absorbs a lot more heat from the sun than the surrounding ice does, and so melts its way down through the ice, and keeps going as long as it the sunlight can reach it.  When the ice refreezes to fill the hole, it reorganises its crystalline structure from the chaotic granules left over from when it was snow, to something that reflects the container in which it was formed.  You can sometimes see this radial pattern in your ice cube tray – this is exactly the same thing.

We had been walking on ice and snow all day, which made for a surprise when I stepped back onto the familiar gravel of McMurdo. I have walked on a lot of snow in my life but I suppose I always went from frozen water to frozen ground or pavement.  I have not, apparently, stepped from ice to fine gravel so dry that the pebbles haven't frozen together, and my first impression on doing so was that I had stepped onto cake.  It was a very strange sensation that took some minutes to shake, but I can remember it even now.

It had been a very good thing to stretch my legs, and getting out in the fresh(er) air with a walking partner who could make good conversation but also didn't mind silence did me some good, to process the whirlwind of trips I'd made in such a short time.  In that sense, my own walk to Castle Rock was much in keeping with those who made the hike when waiting for the sea ice to freeze over in 1911 – it was somewhere to go that was well away from the madding crowd in the Discovery Hut, where one could have a private conversation or just catch a bit of peace and quiet.  On its busier days, the route is well-enough travelled that one stands the risk of encountering as many people out there as anywhere else, but we got a quiet weekday when everyone else was working.  Being a bright day in midsummer,  my imagination will have to add the richer hues of the dying light of autumn, but I'm glad I got to stand there in person at least.

If you want more detailed, expert analysis of the geology of Castle Rock, this is the PDF for you.

#antarctica #castle rock #travel #hiking #photos #ross island #mcmurdo station #mcmurdo sound #mcmurdo #views

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Changbin Lyric Drabble #2

F/M Pairing: Changbin x Y/N

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: It’s mostly smut and they don’t use a condom (a big no). There’s also a language warning.

Lyric Prompt: “Your touch is magnetic ‘cause I can’t forget it”- Magnetic (Monsta X and Sebastian Yatra)

He was always the star, wherever he decided to go. A bright flame with shining embers. Beautiful, but dangerous. Impossible to catch because everyone wanted him, which meant nobody could have him.

I guess I was the rare exception. Unintentionally, of course. It happened when I wasn't expecting to be noticed at a party that declared me an outsider. But he didn’t seem to think so, dark eyes full of lethal seduction. 

It was his apartment and he had an impossible conviction. Afterwards, I left him alone and walked to my dormitory, still high from the effects of his touch and company. It became something of a habit, returning each Friday night to see him. We developed an intimate routine, and I was perfectly comfortable with him despite his popularity and gorgeous smile. 

Until things started to change, in subtle ways, and I decided that I didn’t want to see him anymore. But I never anticipated that he would passionately fight back, despite our reputations. He was never truly alone, attracting too much attention when he approached me one afternoon outside of my lecture. “Y/N,” he said. “You weren’t at the party.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, even as too many voices continued to surround the school’s athletic prodigy. “I was busy.”

“This Friday,” Changbin insisted. “I want you to come.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Why?”

My tone was eerily calm. “I can’t be there.”

“Well, let’s meet somewhere else,” Changbin said, oblivious to my indifference. “What are you doing now?”

“Homework.”

“Later,” he said, grabbing my wrist and carefully pulling me into one of the empty classrooms. His back was turned away from me, and I watched him lock the door. “You’re doing it on purpose,” he finally whispered. 

“No,” I lied again, but he had already started pushing me against the corner of the large, executive desk. 

“It means more to me,” he said. “I like you.”

I shivered, holding onto his shoulders for support. “The way it started-”

“That has nothing to do with what I feel,” Changbin interrupted. “Are you trying to hide from me?”

“I don’t want it anymore.”

“Don’t touch me, then.”

Despite his command, my hands tightened into the sleeves of his t-shirt. “I can’t help it.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmured. “But I don’t think it’s a bad thing.”

I shook my head, dragging my nose against the skin of his collarbones. “Why can’t you stop?”

“I won’t leave you alone.”

He reached for my hands, forcing them down next to my sides. “What do you want?”

“I thought it was obvious,” he said, focusing the intensity of his gaze on my person. Oh, I think I understood. He was only interested in me, even while his fingers made quick work of the buttons on his expensive shirt. 

Underneath the silky fabric, he was muscle everywhere, even in the places where I would expect to see him soft. Thick, gorgeous tendons connecting beneath smooth, dark skin. He let it fall into the floor before skimming his fingers down his sculpted chest, teasing the pebbled peaks of his nipples and the distinct outline of abdominal lines forming small arches along his stomach. 

“Changbin,” I managed, saving myself from breaking down in front of him by grabbing onto the desk behind me.

“I like this,” he said, teasing the hem of my skirt. “But we don’t need it,” he continued, pulling the waistband of my skirt down to my ankles. “Y/N, don’t you think this is prettier?” he growled, snapping the delicate lace of my panties before holding my throbbing sex in his hand.

“Tell me what to do,” I nearly cried, losing every remaining shred of sanity to the dark sin of his eyes. 

“Turn around for me,” he said and I obeyed instantly, negating everything I said before, every action I took to avoid him between lectures. Instead, I let him position me to his satisfaction, bent over the desk with my panties collecting into a sad pile on top of my skirt on the floor. It was an unconscious decision to adjust my legs apart, spreading them wide to accommodate Changbin who stood in the open space where he could access everything. “Do you want my fingers first?” he asked and I whimpered pathetically in response.

One hand settled against my waist while the other brought his thumb in contact with my clitoris, rubbing generous circles before pushing down hard in response to the unexpected breaks in my breathing. Choked moans when it felt particularly exceptional, timid whines when he tried something different to test the full extent of my reactions. It was after he penetrated inside when my entire body started shaking, tears collecting at the corners of my eyes.

I knew he was testing me, fingers creating the most vulgar sound as they mimicked his cock moving at a desperate pace like he wanted me to cum in the middle of this empty classroom from foreplay alone. It was too fast...and he was looking at me...and the surface of the desk was cold against my heated skin. The sensations were paradoxical, but they came together beautifully to alleviate the rapidly building heat, a tight coil of burning desperation seeking a perfect release.

“What would feel better, sweetheart?” he asked.

The sound of his zipper was audible over the orchestra of noises he was conducting. “Your cock, Changbin. Please.”

I turned my head to the side, looking back to appraise the unforgettable image of his erection straining the fabric of his boxer shorts. I tried not to cry when he pulled himself from the uncomfortable confines of his underwear, stroking rapidly to bring himself to full arousal, teasing the tip where a delicate bead of pre-cum was gathering.

His cock was thick, fully erect as his hand pressed down against my lower back. My attention was returned to the classroom, and I looked at the geography map from across the room, following the complicated lines and points. It proved to be a necessary distraction when I felt him direct the tip of his cock around the place where I desired him the most. “I don’t have lube,” he warned me. “But I think you’re wet enough.”

I gripped the edges of the desk harshly between my hands. “Changbin,” I whispered because I could feel the slick that he was describing, everything sliding together so that I could feel him in an intimate position.

It was rugged when he pushed inside, and I fought to breathe around the heavy pressure at the back of my throat. “I missed you,” he said, fingers bruising the side of my hips as he started to advance faster, like it was a race and we were ahead of everyone else which meant he could also control the pace. He could make it gentle, coaxing the tip of his cock inside just to feel the way I instinctively tightened around him in response. Changbin might also make it rough, furiously heating my insides because of the friction as his cock dragged the delicate walls swallowing him over and over again. His movements were a contradiction of sensations, but they all contributed to the familiar pressure which I could feel at my core. A desperate build-up of pleasure and desire, begging for some kind of release.

At this point, he controlled everything, forcing me back onto his cock with an eagerness that I was graciously willing to entertain. My body was nothing more than his personal cock-warmer, and I squeezed my aching muscles around him whenever he held himself inside to feel everything deeper. Grinding in place because he sometimes liked to tease and I whined and cried for him in the way he liked to hear.

Everything was overwhelmingly scorching, stifling to the point where I couldn’t concentrate on anything else other than the feeling of his cock and the presence of his fingers on my skin. “Changbin,” I moaned when his hips slammed continuously against mine. My fingers ran over the place where we were completely connected because there was no space left between our bodies.

“Are you still hiding from me, Y/N?” he growled.

“I-I’m not,” I slurred, intoxicated by the power I felt in his bruising intensity. 

“Are you gonna cum?”

I nodded my head because he was fucking the words into an audible series of moans and heavy exhales. Meanwhile, one of his hands handled my thigh with a rough direction, forcing my leg higher just to nail his hips thunderously with an unrelenting series of sharp and punctual thrusts. I cried his name, feeling my eyes roll into the back of my skull when I finally came, rolling my swollen heat against the desk for more delicious friction.

My body melted against his ministrations, moving like a doll when he never stopped chasing his own orgasm. When it was finally over, I could feel him leaking down my trembling thighs. It was incredibly messy, but I can’t recall ever wanting anything more.

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #skz #skz fanfic #skz smut #stray kids drabbles #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #seo changbin #seo changbin fanfic #seo changbin smut