#Prompt 45

[pillow-anime-talk]

Hello! For your event can i request 45. “Should I fuck you? So beg for it.” with Haruomi Shingu? Thank you very much!

# tags: scenario; kinda friends with benefits; roommates!au; hot romance; smut; pwp; adult!reader; but still age-gap (10 years); nsfw

warnings: mention of sex and sexual acitivities, from dry humping to lazy sex, sex on the couch, sloppy kisses, hips gripping, kinda daddy kink

includes: gender neutral reader ft. haruomi shingu {paradox live; buraikan}

author’s note: he is so fine...

45. “Should I fuck you? So beg for it.”

It was the most ordinary Friday in the world, and there was nothing to indicate that you were doing anything more that day than making yourself warm dinner, cleaning your bedroom and turning on the latest Netflix series, which premiered since March last year. You recently came back from work, your back hurt and all you wanted was a hot bubble bath, a glass of sweet wine and some peace in the presence of cherry candles. However, plans changed as quickly as the weather outside the window; suddenly the clear blue sky was covered with dark clouds and Japan was covered with torrential rain.

“Should I fuck you? So beg for it.”

That’s the change of plans I was talking about.

Instead of lying under a blanket and eating buttered popcorn, your ruddy face and large pupils were focused on Haruomi, who had come home from his restaurant. His strong, large hands held your hips tightly, and you moved your body, rubbing against the swollen cock hidden under the fabric of black very tight pants, decorated with a belt with silver elements.

You and the man lived together for several years – your presence did not bother the other person, you often passed each other in the corridor or in the kitchen, being from completely different worlds. He worked in a small Chinese bar, which he founded himself, and by the way he had a great musical talent. You focused on developing your career as an employee in an international company as an HR manager, and by the way you had a knack for learning languages. You were complete opposites: you were organized, had natural sleeping and eating habits, while the ten years older man suffered from insomnia and, despite running a restaurant, ate small portions and often drank energy drinks or coffee, and disliked basic household chores. Nevertheless, you got along like old friends without much commitment to each other.

Because of your jobs and way of life too, you both were quite extreme about relationships, marriage, and dating. So you entered into an innocent idea that consisted of an occasional dinner together and an occasional quickie to ease the stress on your souls and forgot about your responsibilities.

“Just fuck me, I know you want it. You can’t stop your body from responding to me.” You replied with a slight smile, pressing harder on his cock, which all he wanted was to free himself from the tight clothes. The dark haired man just rolled his eyes, squeezing the skin on your hips once again. The black T-shirt covering your chest was definitely very unnecessary. So he quickly got rid of it and then changed your position – this time you were on the couch, causing your back to touch the dark, slightly hard surface. “Please.” You gave in, purring low and looking at him with a smol twinkle in your eye. Haruomi only unbuttoned his pants, and after a short second he untied the bow made of a thin string. Your sweatpants have been slightly slid down.

From inside his wallet, which was always in the back pocket of his pants, the man took out a gold-wrapped condom, which he immediately put on his manhood. You immediately wet the underwear that was still on your hips. So you decided to speed up the process of getting ready for sex and took off your comfortable tracksuits and greenish lace panties, dropping them to the dark wooden floor.

“I’m tired and you only think about yourself.” He said in a bored voice. After a short while, he was over your body, tapping the head of his cock against your private parts. You giggled contentedly. “It’s not fun. You work eight hours per day, and I work from the time I wake up until I go to bed.” He rolled his eyes.

You lifted your hips slightly, letting him know you wanted more than stupid talk, and he sighed under his breath.

“... Don’t be so strict, daddy.” You said half jokingly, half seriously. The twinkle in his eye was far too visible. And that was quite motivating.

Haruomi spat on his hand, smearing latex with his own saliva, and then entered you in one quick move. You moaned in pleasure at the feeling of the pleasant pushing against your walls, then wrapped your legs around him.

The light movements of the hips in the next few seconds became much stronger, more measured, definitely deeper. You were in seventh heaven; a hard week at work, recent projects, home chores, meetings with friends and lack of time for yourself was finally rewarded with a moment of pleasure, sloppy kisses full of groans and pleasure touching both the top of your head and all your toes. Your breaths mixed with each other, and your hands automatically tightened on his thin shoulders and soft hair.

“... Don’t stop, please.” You asked softly while your eyelids were squeezed shut. Waves of impending orgasm pounded against your G-spot, against your thoughts. Haruomi buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing it lightly and biting it from time to time. Despite fatigue, reluctance to live and a huge desire to close his eyes he was also in huge pleasure – it was perfectly visible.

He hasn’t had a partner for years, and his only distraction from work and meetings with his only friend – Chisei – was you. Your sex was pure pleasure, there was no feeling or love in it.

You both just needed the occasional moment of elation, blissful orgasm, and just the feeling of warmth spreading through your bodies.

[promptsbytaurie]

prompt #45

"Eyes aren't the only ways people see, child."

[absoluteminimum]

Have you met Minimus's foundling? Soon Steeljaw will be much too big to carry.

[bbyg4rl]

thinkin abt . . . oldman!jj that feels you up through your panties because its too wrong to want someone as young as you, but he just can’t help himself.

he calls you “kid” while circling your cunny like it isnt icky that a man that’s old enough to be your father is talking dirty to you, like he gets off on how bad he is, how wrong he thinks this is.

he never touches you directly, no. its torture but its jj. he rubs against you through your panties like it defends his morality, like he isnt thinking about bending you over and fucking your senses out of you every time you pass him.

but then he asks you to bend over in front of him, stick your ass up as high as you can. convinces you to spread your lips apart, stretch your hole the tiniest bit, enough to make you whine and ache. watches as you expose yourself in hopes he’ll finally give you what you need. hoping he’ll come along and shove his cock, fingers or tongue. but he never does.

he’s too busy lying to himself, pretending watching you spread out like this is enough but you know its only a matter of time before you break him. you know its only a matter of time before he snaps and fucks you. and you can’t wait to break him.

read more concepts here !

[babbling-babull]

DP X DC Prompt #85

Jack takes the reveal badly. Maddie doesn't and takes the kids and runs to Gotham.

[dcscavengerhunt]

Find a sidekick getting kicked.

See pinned for rules.

[the-last-quest]

Day 2 Raggedy Andy! ❤️

[anonymoustrashbarge]

@anderseeds remember your post about grumpy mpreg anderson a lil while back? Well, that's actually been some of my comfort/writing practice nonsense over the pandemic so when I saw someone else talking about it---

I have conquered my social anxiety to give you FIC BASED ON YOUR POST

Hm. Anderson should have been awake by now, but Alucard hadn’t heard a sound.

Well, time to be a dutiful alpha! Quietly, he moved towards the bedroom, deciding how best to check on his ‘husband's’ condition.

“How is my lovely nemesis today~?” Alucard called, somewhat quietly, into the darkened room. He was already grinning in anticipation.

The blade that buried itself in his chest just made that grin wider. Ah, aiming for the center mass. The headaches must be terrible today.

Alucard needed no further cue to grab the glass off the bedside table and take it to refill with water, casually removing the blade as he went. There had only been so far he could push, lately, and Alucard had no desire to harm the man when he didn't want to fight back. By the time he returned, Anderson had struggled into a sitting position, and Alucard deftly sat the glass back where it had been, eyes automatically sliding to the mark on Anderson’s neck. Something even his regeneration could not rid from his flesh.

“You can stop smiling about this,” grumbled Anderson.

No, he couldn't, but Alucard wasn't about to admit that.

“Is it a crime to appreciate my work?”

Anderson scowled.

“Your work is why I'm like this, hellspawn, and you damn well know–ugh,” he stopped himself, looking ill, and focused on drinking from the glass. As he did, the hem of the shirt he slept in raised, just slightly.

Alucard noticed. He couldn't help but take notice. There was something deeply satisfying to seeing a softening to some of Anderson’s fearsome edges, a once chiseled plane being sanded smoother by the day, evidence his body was altering itself for Alucard’s offspring–a process so human Alucard had assumed it forever beyond his ability to witness it again, to say nothing of inciting it.

He made sure he wasn't looking when Anderson set the glass down again.

“You don't need to still be here.”

“No, I suppose I don't.”

“Brave man, being in bayonet distance from me right now.”

Alucard laughed, quietly, and took the hint, leaving the room and tamping down hard on the desire to stay and verbally spar a little more. No, not yet. For there was only one obvious target to hit, and Alucard's instincts itched at even the thought of pursuing it.

This… dynamic they had was new and tenuous. A work of impulse and haste and a lack of room to plan. Alucard had barely threaded the needle by listening to long dormant instincts now risen from the grave and using what he had in his reach to fulfill them.

Admittedly, Anderson was not happy with some of Alucard's solutions, and that had not been ideal, but Alucard had noticed one important thing: Anderson hadn't left.

Alucard was not keeping him here, in a house purchased as Hellsing employee housing (the work of a vicious argument between him and Integra.) Official word in the Iscariot order was Anderson had been enthralled, so it'd be possible to return to his life there. Alucard had placed no obstacles between Anderson and an open door, if he wanted it.

Instead, to Alucard's contemplative surprise, it appeared Anderson wanted this. A completely miserable list of symptoms to carrying Alucard's child, and a mundane domesticity with… Alucard. No matter how much he complained about what Alucard ‘did to him’, that fact stood out, and it fascinated him on a level he had not known he could feel. 

But pointing that out now? Anderson had a very typically Catholic tower of justifications for indulging in something he wanted, and Alucard wasn't going to topple it himself. That would undo everything he'd done getting the human he craved in his grasp. Best to let someone else make themselves a target. Let Anderson delude himself he wasn't settling into something he wanted for his future.

(And if, a few months later, Alucard comes to the realization he deluded himself in the exact same way–holding his newborn child and being hit by the feeling of no longer being unmoored from time and humanity–then it's his own fault for not noticing he had been planning a future with Anderson long, long before then.)

[45-armadillos]

Tank Girl Nat

[breakdcwn]

OTEP LYRIC PROMPTS

From the album “Kult 45”

“This is no longer a spectator sport.”

“Why don’t you go find a bunker?”

“Follow. Your fucking. Leader!”

“Let me kiss it, I can fix it.”

“I was raised in poverty. No safe space. Inside the house or on the street.”

“Bitch, you get what you deserve!”

“Look what we’re facing!”

“They keep you terrified so you obey.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I told everyone, but they wouldn’t listen!”

“It’s okay to greave, to cry. It’s as natural as laughter.”

“I got something to say. Fuck. YOU!”

“Though we stand alone, our hands are high.”

“What you reap is what you sow.”

“It’s dangerous to fall for a thing like me.”

“I was afraid to stand up.”

[cupidskissx]

you have eight minutes to write something based off of the prompt ‘ nuh-uh-tuh-tuh-eh-luh-ah. Peenut Butta! ’

(1. Welcome back my love, we’ve missed you ❤️🥰

2. How dare you? 8 minutes… I feel personally attacked and distressed. You know it takes me at least 6 months to write anything!)

~300 words (rushed, flawed and unedited)

Being a polyglot is a blessing and a curse, and for Charles it’s mainly a memory game of who can understand his mother tongue and who can’t.

Sometimes Charles can go days without speaking French if he’s in Maranello, days without speaking Italian if he’s home. Sometimes he can go weeks without speaking English and that’s a risky thing to do, because the consequences can be embarrassing at best or damaging at worst.

The first day back in the paddock after Summer Break is a sport of its own, a not-so-finessed display of linguistic gymnastics. If he was awarded points out of 10, today Charles would be on course to score a three, if lucky. He’s already had to ask multiple reporters to repeat themselves and confused words with similar pronunciations. “Eligible and illegible aren’t the same word, Charles,” Mia whispered after an interview with SkySports.

Now he and a group of drivers are waiting for their briefing to commence. Charles doesn’t regret brining up the topic of dessert until Alex turns the question back on him: “So what about you, what did you have as a final summer break treat?”

“Me? I had, er,” oh no, not again, English slips from his grasp, the words that were on the tip of his tongue dissolve like sugar in boiling water. “It was… crêpes, and you know, that spread…” the vagueness doesn’t do him any favours. “Some people put it on toast,” Charles flicks his eyes to Max. He doesn’t look like he’s the least bit interested in helping.

“Jam?” George asks.

“No, not jam.”

“Biscoff?” Valtteri pipes up from further down the row.

“No, the one that’s like peanut butter, but different.”

“Nutella?” Max supplies, raising the pitch of his voice like it’s a question — like he wasn’t the one who slaved over the pan for Charles last night when neither of them could sleep.

“Oui, crêpes with Nutella and bananas and strawberries.”

“Sounds delicious,” Max adds, his smile pulling into a smirk.

“Yes, yes, compliments to the chef,” Charles rolls his eyes and if anyone else notices fondness in his tone they don’t comment.

[hizznbyte]

I don’t even play boy whoever is in charge of this new testing standard deserves to be shot to death ashamed of themselves

Edit: I like going on TikTok and seeing everybody mad at the state for how bad the exams were because it’s making me realize even more how stupid the entire set up was. NOTHING WE LEARNED IN THE ENTIRE CLASS WAS ON THE EXAM. THEY PULLED SHIT OUT THEIR ASS AND EXPECTED US TO UNDERSTAND. EVERYONE IN THE DISTRICT DEFINITELY FAILED.

[ananke-xiii]

trying to strike up a conversation with people who seem to be cool&interesting but also shy&socially awkward is such a job sometimes. we've talked about any topic i could think of on the spot, i know what's your favourite food and why&where you went to university, whether you like your job or not, that you love board games and which board games you prefer and a thousand more little things about you.... soooo.... why do you keep sitting next to me in silenceeeee WHEN ARE YOU GONNA ASK ME A QUESTIOOOOOOOOON. SAYYY SOMETHIIIIING PLEASEEEE.

[lighthouseshepard]

thinking about him (oscar)

[rustedgate]

I need to take the tv remote away from my grandma

[thewingedwolf]

yes i DO find it annoying that when i took this job my aunt said with her own mouth and without any prompting from me, that she would help me with the commute by picking me up regularly on the weekends, and yet in the two years i’ve been here she has actually done that like three times maybe, because every time i’ve asked she has said she’s “busy” and by “busy” she always - and i mean always - means that she’s out getting shit faced at 4 pm.