#AND HE'S CLEAN. HAIR SKIN CLOTHES AND ALL

[cupid-grl]

MDNI

imagine needy!simon who at first glance, seems like a very reserved man, keeping to himself and always having this sort of unreadable expression on his face. it's always so hard for others to tell what exactly is going on in that pretty head of his, he always seems to be lost in his own world, you'd have to snap your fingers in his face once or twice to get his attention. and even then, it's not guaranteed he'll give you attention for more than a second after.

but with you, oh it's all attention on you.

a needy!simon who after a long day of constant fighting and bloodying people's faces up, comes back to your shared room. pushing past anyone who tries talking to him, regardless of the importance of the topic. all he wants to do is lay his pretty head on your lap and fall asleep to your soft hands running through his messy blonde hair.

a needy!simon who finds his beautiful girl sitting on the edge of their shared bed, folding some clean clothes onto the bed for them to put away later. a shared activity which was quiet, but intimate. he sighs as he walks up to you, saying nothing as he falls to his knees in front of you.

"missed this s' much" he'd mumble with his face buried in the plush flesh of your thighs. his hands at your hips, like he was a sinner at the knees of his altar, begging for comfort, for salvation.

you'd laugh at the gentleness in his touch, the warmth of his cheeks pressed up against your legs. with a needy!simon kneading at the piece of skin that connects your hips and stomach.

"tell me about your day, love" he begs, needing to just hear the sweet honey of your voice to fill his ears. after all the yelling and screaming he'd endured today, all he wants to hear is your sweet voice. poor baby can't hold himself back from practically whimpering at the sound of your voice, as you tell him about the "boring" day you had. cleaning, watching a film or two, and spending the rest of the afternoon laid up on your shared bed, waiting for him to get home.

it's so mundane, so simple. but the simplicity of his lover eagerly telling him about how she had been waiting at home for him, knowing she needed him just as much as he needed her is enough for needy!simon to begin trailing kisses down from the side of your thighs up to the inner part of your soft flesh, nibbling at the softness of your skin.

"keep going, tell me more" he'll mumble in between light kisses, as you continue to try and tell him more about your day, with soft gasps escaping your parted lips. eventually, you're stopped by the feeling of his fingers hooking onto the hem of your shorts, dragging them down as his short nails drag alongside your skin, leaving a trail of red streaks down your thighs. still on his knees in front of you, he'll move his head closer until his nose is pressed up against your pelvic bone, his mouth latching onto your underwear, sucking through the fabric with your bud just behind the thin underwear.

"please, keep talking" he begs, looking up at you with pleading eyes while his lips not once move from your hardened arousal, and how could you not listen to his pleads? your hand runs through his disheveled hair once more, grabbing a fistful of it once you feel a gust of cold air hit your now exposed heat, his tongue darting to collect your spilling juices. a loud mewl echoes in the room, and you're quick to cover your mouth with your free hand.

"don't," he warns, lightly biting at your hardened bud. "wanna hear that pretty voice of yours".

and with that, you force yourself to move your hand away, pleasure filled moans filling his ears and he can't help it as he hungrily feeds off your sweet nectar.

"so sorry your day was boring, love, let me make it better." he whispers, his tongue dancing across your folds as his hand snakes beneath your shirt. a needy!simon who for the remainder of the night, will show you just how much he had been thinking of you, cursing at you for getting in the way of his mission today. a needy!simon who will worship his god and fuck his sins away.

hihi this is my first ever little drabble, needy hungry starved simon has been running through my head ALL day and i needed to get this out of the way for now :3. requests are open as always, and i cannot wait to write more!!

[avonne-writes]

happy b-day! 🍰

from the prompts: [ TUG ] receiver, trying to get ready for the day, is pulled back into bed by sender

Thank you, dear anon! 💕 Have some silly HS AU fluff. Set in the summer between Year 10 and 11, so they’re 16. Harding and Georgia have just started seriously dating.

~

Gale wakes up to the rumble of a motorcycle outside the window. Half-asleep, it takes his brain a moment to register the sensations around him. The stuffy air of Bucky’s room, hot and humid from the late morning sunshine that pushes the summer heat inside despite the drawn blinds. The warmth of an arm around his waist, sweat gathering where skin meets skin. His bare legs, tangled with Bucky’s, the ticklish feeling of hair catching on hair. Bucky’s peaceful breathing against his neck, where Gale knows a giant hickey blooms. They were going to steal a bit of make-up from Georgia to cover it up, but he doesn’t think they will get a chance now.

Gale’s eyes snap open in horror. She came home early!

“Fuck!” He swears and scrambles to get up. At the last moment, he remembers his nakedness, and feels the rush of blood to his cheeks at the realization. He’s not wearing anything. Not. A single. Thing. And neither does Bucky. This was the first time that they actually slept like this, and of course, of course this is the one time when she comes home before she said she would. Gale allows himself a moment to squeeze his eyes shut and purse his lips in that dreadful feeling of dismay that follows. He should’ve known!

Cursing in panic in his mind, he looks around the room. He’s too self-conscious to just stand up and search for his underwear like this, so he pulls the thin summer blanket around his waist as a cover. But he’s too slow - all the jostling around woke Bucky up too and, predictably, the first thing he does is wrapping his long arms around Gale’s middle and pulling him back down.

The way Gale lands on his back with his hair splayed on the pillow feels like defeat.

“Good morning, baby.” Bucky purrs, blinking at him lazily, unperturbed by the wide-eyed look Gale shoots him.

“Your mom’s home.”

“So?” Bucky rubs their noses together. “Not like she’s gonna come in here. Let’s cuddle for a few more minutes.” His voice ends on a whine.

“She’s so gonna come in.” Gale hisses at him, moving to stand up again, but Bucky holds him tighter in his embrace and starts kissing his cheek and neck. The way it makes Gale shiver and go boneless when those lips touch the hickey is super embarrassing, but he can’t help it. It’s so thrilling, so new, and his limbs seem to melt from the fluttering kisses, entirely out of his control. He lays his palm on Bucky’s biceps and gets lost in it for a moment, until he hears the engine shut off, then a man’s laugh from outside.

His blood runs cold in fear.

“Is that the guy?” He whispers as if Georgia’s boyfriend was standing just outside the door. “Bucky, is that the guy?”

“Geez, Buck, relax.” Bucky rubs Gale’s chest over Gale’s frantically pounding heart. “He’s not scary at all.”

Not scary, not scary. What does Bucky know about that? Gale grouches pettily in his own head but doesn’t say anything out loud. He knows that Bucky hasn’t had a male figure in his life since middle school, and even then, it’s not like his dad was ever around enough to show him how quickly a friendly hand could turn into a weapon.

“I need to get dressed.”

Bucky lets him extricate himself from the embrace, but he makes no move to follow him, not even when Gale steals the blanket to look for his clothes. He just sprawls there on his stomach, pale ass on display, without a care in the world. Gale avoids looking at him altogether. The clothes he wore yesterday are too wrinkled to be presentable and not exactly fresh-smelling, so he opens Bucky’s closet and rummages around until he finds the stuff he left here over the past couple of weeks, washed clean and smelling like the floral detergent Georgia uses. He puts them on, feeling better already as they cover his bare skin. He goes to throw the blanket on Bucky, but he doesn’t account for Bucky’s long-ass arms and his habit of pouncing on Gale out of pure affection. Before he knows it, his arms are grabbed, and he’s yanked back down on the mattress.

Despite himself, Gale laughs as he and Bucky wrestle, and then they're kissing, just like that. Gale is so into it that he completely forgets about everything else the moment Bucky presses him down and licks between his parted lips. He cups Bucky’s face and strokes his cheeks with his thumbs as they make out, pushing his chin up to take more, to get him closer. It’s been so intense lately, even painful sometimes because nothing feels like enough, and Gale is burning up with it. The past month has been nothing short of an inferno. He didn’t realize that having sex would affect everything else too. He didn’t know.

Downstairs, the front door opens.

“John.” Gale breaks away from Bucky's mouth with a sticky sound and a gasp. He rarely calls Bucky by his first name because it feels too serious, but when they're like this, in each other's arms, something in him longs to connect to him like that. “What if he comes inside?”

Bucky combs his fingers through Gale's messy hair, catching on a few knots and making Gale wince by accident. “His name is Chick.”

“Chick?” Gale makes a face. “You can’t call him Chick.”

“Why not?” Bucky grins, cocky in a way that's entirely for Gale’s entertainment. “That’s his biker name.”

Gale snorts a laugh. Biker name. Right. He can tell that Bucky’s already hooked on the cool persona this guy displays, regardless of how much of it is true. Something protective flares to life in Gale's stomach at the thought. It makes him braver. He doesn’t want Bucky to get attached to some asshole replacement of his father and have his heart broken all over again. “What does your mom call him?”

Bucky lays his head on Gale’s chest and cuddles him again. “Neil.”

Gale knows he shouldn't stay like this. He should try to sort out the tangle of his hair and come up with a solution to hide the love bite before Georgia sits them down to give them the Talk. He shudders just thinking about it. He knows that Bucky already got it once, last year when Gale stayed the night for the first time. Bucky claims it was the most embarrassing moment of his life, and although there's tough competition for that title, Gale is inclined to believe it.

But the weight of Bucky's head and arm feels so comforting that he can’t help but close his eyes again, smiling at the ceiling in contentment. He pets at Bucky's hair and marvels at the shape of his curls under his palm.

The front door closes and, to Gale's relief, the motorbike roars to life again and rides away.

"Johnny, I’m home!" Georgia calls out downstairs. Normally, Bucky would already be there, nosing around in her bags to see if she bought any food, but not today.

Instead, he groans, ducks lower in bed and attempts to wriggle under Gale’s armpit, between his side and the bed. Gale shifts to get up again, but Bucky continues clinging to him, and they laugh and push at each other too loudly to hear the stairs creak.

Next thing they know, there's a knock on the door.

Gale jumps up as if burned and takes a few steps away from the bed, but there’s nowhere to run or hide. His hair is a mess, there are clothes strewn over the floor, even the fucking lube is on the bedside table, he realizes with utter, blinding panic. But there’s nothing he can do about it - the door handle moves, and all they have time for is for Gale to slap a hand over the side of his neck and Bucky to drape the blanket fully over himself. A split second later, Georgia takes a step inside the room.

The moment her soft brown eyes land on Gale, she lights up. "Oh, hi sweetheart, I didn’t know you stayed the night."

Gale's face is aflame. Frozen in place like an idiot, he probably looks even more awkward than he feels. "Um, yeah. Hi Georgia."

"Is your neck all right?" She asks in concern.

"Yeah, just a crick." He laughs, too breathy not to give away the lie, but it’s overshadowed by the cry that comes from Bucky at the same time.

"Mom, go away!"

"I'm going!" She raises her hands apologetically, but her lips are wobbling into a smile. "Just wanted to check on you, darling."

"I'm not five!" Bucky exclaims again, holding his head with both hands in mortification.

"All right, all right!" Georgia gives Gale a fondly amused look, then shuts the door and walks down the hall to her own bedroom.

Gale grabs a random piece of clothing from the floor and throws it at Bucky's back. "I told you."

Bucky groans into his pillow.

[kafkaesque22girlfriend]

The Damned Pt.7

Toji Zenin x fem!reader

Synopsis: forced to get in with the Zenin clan by your parents as a servant, Toji Zenin seemed to damn you more than himself….

hi guys i’m back :3 sorry for not updating. i have so many ideas for this fic, pls go back and reread if ur confusedddd. chap is coming after the sexy times that have just ensued :33

blood, sexy stuff, pillowtalk, violence, typical Toji stuff

Toji cleaned you up in the bath after such a passionate night. You were both silent. He dried your hair, dried your body. His gaze didn't align with his soft touch... so he could be gentle?

Interesting.

He was never this attentive to women, but this was something he wanted to do. Toji should have thrown you out right after, he should have been at his wits end and come to his senses- realizing that this was a mistake, a line he shouldn't have crossed.

He laid you on the bed, both of your clothes strewn all over the floor, you flushed at the sight of him.

“Stay with me.” Toji muttered, hoping to God that you wouldn't hear him, but he might as well hold a megaphone to your ear and say it- you listened to him as per usual. You immediately curled into him, resting your head on his chest, Toji was stunned, he didn't know where to put his hands, or what to do with his fingers. He hadn't cuddled before. The revelation was stunting him, he didn't know what to do, any of his upcoming actions were on instinct and should be considered pure, right? Toji reluctantly put his arms around you and brought you tighter to his chest, he hesitantly stroked your hair, enjoying the way such softness felt under his calloused fingers.

“Just for tonight. But that's all, I'm throwing you out in the morning." He said gruffly, he was contemplating the risks right now but he just wanted to feel a body without it hurting him.

You nod reluctantly as you agree. He was right and you loathed it, but this stolen moment would be something to be cherished along the twisted path borne of Zenin hate. “Can I ask you something?” You whisper softly. Your soft padded fingertips traced the little scars littered on Toji's chest.

He couldn't help his eyes widen as you so casually yet so intently thumbed at his scars. This was the first time in a long time that someone had asked about his scars. Normal people within the clan, the chambermaids, the gardeners, the cooks were afraid to even look because of the fear of being reprimanded by him. But you...you weren't scared. You were curious, he liked that about you. But he knows that you'll die because of it. “Ask away...” He said lazily.

“Do you have the same nightmare every night?” You mutter, your solemn tone pierced his ears as your words hang in the air. You were obviously referring to last night when you found him thrashing in his bed, he almost broke your hand because of it, the purple stain on your skin meant nothing to the stain you wished to know- the one burdening his mind. You wondered if he went through the same torment every night.

Suddenly he glared at you with cold steely eyes and gripped your wrists to stop you from touching his scars. “Don't.” Toji said firmly.

You were mortified. “I'm...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry.�� You murmur under your breath, he could tell it wasn't on purpose but he still felt agitated because of it. He watched as your face flinched, he had to take a minute to process things and in the end, he finally spoke.

“It's fine.. Just don't touch them again. Never. Do you understand?”

“I'm sorry.” I understand. You whisper, you knew he was protecting himself from you, he doesn't want toopen up and you understood that. But it was difficult for you to let go. He looked so scared that night, he grabbed your wrist so hard that the bruise was still in full bloom. Your eyes flit to your wrists to inspect it as you remember the event. "You were so scared... I've never seen you that scared before.” You mumbled as concern etched over every perfect feature.

Toji tensed up. He was ashamed of what he had done, the way he had acted, the fact he still had fears at all. He had never felt guilt in this way before, it seemed like you were guiding him through multiple firsts. “I'm sorry... for hurting you.”

"No!" You blurted absentmindedly. You clear your throat as your eyes lock with his. “No. It's not your fault at all.” Toji hated it, hated how you said such meaningful things as if it was a casual thing. It wasn't. Your mind reeled to what else he could have done last night, he could have killed you.

Toji's hands wrapped around your sides to keep your body pressed against him. He felt quite protective of you at the moment and he was becoming more and more confused, more and more unravelled by every passing minute. He couldn't explain it but it felt too comfortable. “Don't feel scared when you're with me…stop trembling…it’s pathetic..”

You frown at his words, why was he making this an uphill battle. A war waged on no-one? You sigh and roll over to your side, facing away from him.

“ I'm not scared...I'm just cold.” You reply firmly, growing abit tired and confused at all of this. Tonight was overwhelming to say the least.

Toji groaned in irritation, not wanting to deal with this little huff. “What are you so scared of? You're shaking like you're trying not to freeze to death. Are you...are you that afraid of me?” For a split second moment, a small hole pierced through his heart: Are you scared of him? Are you pretending not be?

“No. I'm not afraid.” You say simply, yet you weren't giving your thoughts away in the process. Toji was getting more and more irritated at the fact that you were making this difficult for him. He sighed and put his palm on your back. "If you're not afraid of me, I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me... I want to see the truth."

Your ears perked up at the sudden declaration, you turned your head to look him in the eyes, almost as if you were challenging him. “Do you want me to be afraid of you? Is that it?” You say softly, sadness dampening your features, you weren't scared, you were sad.

“If you want me to give you a reason to be afraid of me, I can do just that.” His jaw clenched, his hands flexed and it's obvious that he wasn't lying-

You turn back over to face him and after a few moments of silence and deep pondering, you sighed, a serious look covering your face. “ I'm trying to understand you. All I want is to be close to you, but you're making that really difficult when you keep pushing me away like this.”

His eyes widened slightly and the stern expression on his face softened just a bit. You hit him in just the tender spot and he didn't like how he was acting, he was ashamed of it. Toji didn't understand what he was feeling so he reverted to the only thing he could comprehend other than violence and hatred, he pushed you away. “Right...” He said lowly.

You avert your gaze from his, trying to figure out what to see to get through the cold exterior of his bloodied heart. You sigh, he didn't need to be reprimanded, he needed warmth. "I'm sorry I pushed you." You whisper. We don't have to talk about this. This is the only night we can spend together... So can I hold you?" You compromise, why should you waste a night in bed arguing? You wanted to hold him, one last time.

Toji let out a groan, your body was like velvet under his scarred fingers, your lips like rose petals. He won't ever have this ever again. He won't ever have you ever again, so why should you both argue? Toji didn't want to get too attached to you in a short amount of time... but it seemed that he really didn't have that much of a choice, and he could tell that his heart wasn't listening to his brain...he didn't want to let go of you at all. “Please….Just don't touch my scars.” His voice was almost desperate, pleading.

Toji looked gorgeous right now, his dark hair ruffled, his chest rippling, the pale moonlight dimly exposing every chiselled feature on his perfectly sculpted face, his scar quirking with every move of the lips you so passionately kissed. He pulled you close when he noticed your probing, that curious look on your face he couldn't deny. He wondered what it would be like to fuck your face, the thought was certainly intoxicating, yet he couldn't have it. The atmosphere was far too sensually charged for something as vulgar as that. You looked like an angel, it disgusted him. You rest your chin on his bare chest, refraining from touching any of his scars. You sigh softly and lean into his jaw. “I really enjoyed tonight...” You whisper.

Toji let out a husky grunt, your sweet breath tickled his skin. "You're getting pretty close...C’mere...let me kiss you.”

You pressed your fingers against his lips, softly stroking his lips, carefully avoiding the scar on his lip. "I like the way you press up against me...” He muttered against your fingertips, he fell so deeply into your eyes, he felt like he was protecting you from the whole world in his arms- like he's the only one that can protect you.

He moved your hand from his lips and immediately grabbed you by the nape of your neck. Toji put his mouth to yours, a sensual and deep kiss that stole the air out of your lungs. His hands buried into your hair, his face scrunched up in desperation, like your kiss was the breath of life in his world of death, your tongues melded into one. He pulled you onto his lap, Toji's warm palms lifted up his shirt that you were wearing. Your skin was like heaven, he kissed your neck and collarbone, he sucked on your breasts and nipples as your hands raked through his hair.

“Toji….hah…” You gasp softly, his passion was unrelenting. He pulled back and searched your eyes for an answer, a sign, to find something that he couldn't find within himself. “What are you doing to me?" He said through a strained breath, his words hung heavy in the air.

What were you doing to him...

He was weak for it

He hated it.

Toji could feel your body relaxingin his arms as it slowly made its way to laying on his chest. You nuzzled into his neck and you were pretty much fully exhausted and ready to go to sleep. Toji let out a hesitant deep breath as he let his eyes close. He had you in his arms, there was this overwhelming urge to keep you safe, he always wanted to protect you, this was his way of showing you that he had never felt his satisfied with himself.

Yet his love for killing was your toughest opponent in comparison.

-

The night chill was lulling his body, the soft whisps of wind flowed through the slightly creaked balcony door. The stars twinkled across the compound lake, the garden flowers fluttered in the breeze and the owls cooed. Everything was peaceful, serene, and quiet, but alas...nothing goes right too long for Toji.

Sweat soaked Toji's forehead, his heart thumped in his ribcage, his hands flexed his hands, his knuckles turned white, his jaw clenched.

That shouldn't be happening-

You're there.

You shouldn't be there.

“Toji. Wake up. Hey, hey....it's okay...just please wake up!'”

Toji shot up and awoken suddenly from his sleep when he felt you place your hand on his shoulder. The cold sweat was dripping down his forehead, a mere trickle that spurred on a consecutive series of horrifying events conjured up in his own head. His hands trembled, eyes narrowing into mere slits.

Fuck, fuck, fuck...

The Zenin's didn't exist.

He was making love to you, such sweet love.

You were happy.

He was happy.

“Toji. You were having another nightmare…it's okay. I'm here, you're fine.” You whisper, his face was pale, his heart was clenching, he felt like he was being strangled slowly. He saw you there, and he immediately grabbed you by the shoulders and stared directly into your eyes.

“Don't... You need to stay away from me...” He gritted out through clenched teeth. “I could hurt you..”

You sighed out deeply, a little frustrated about this undying conviction for him to push you away right now when this was the only night you would have together. "Hey.” You said firmly this time, tilting his chin up and holding his face softly so he could look up at you; deep, sad, distant eyes met yours. “It's just us - just you and me right now. No one else. I'm here, okay? I'm not leaving.” You lean in and give him a gentle kiss on the lips and pull away caressing his scalp slightly.

The words that spilled from your lips were like a soothing balm, and the simple touch of your fingers felt like the touch of an angel. Toji's narrow eyes softened the tiniest bit, that small kiss...

Your kiss. -

“You’re so gentle...” He muttered, his tone bittersweet.

In that nightmare, you were there. Caked in blood as he loomed over you. It was in your hair, on your face, your body…..Your throat slashed. A trademark Zenin cut.

-

the angst and the smut i have planned is diabolical.

Taglist (mwah!) @wo-ming-bai @xduskydollx @chilichopsticks @maskedpacific @kaizxnx @gojoslefttoenail @idreamitski @miraes-world @misscats-mha @niss2mpm @taylorazureeee @sweetteez @21aurora

[pholla-jm]

A Little Crazy

IMAGINE: A LITTLE CRAZY~ ZORO X READER GENRE: FLUFF cw: non-established relationship. not proof read. mention of blood. gorey. use of weapons. ****************

When you first joined the crew… Zoro was a little bit wary of you. 

You didn’t seem like the pirate type, yet here you were. Happily bouncing across the deck with the Captain.

Maybe you were just childish like the Captain? 

He would think that… but something was just different. 

Sure, Luffy is childish, but he’s a pirate at heart. But when Zoro looked at you, all he could see was a cute little person wearing skirts and dresses all the time. Whenever he saw you during your free time, you were either coloring or crocheting. 

He’s never actually seen you fight either. Whenever there was a fight going on, you would run off- doing what you were tasked to do. 

He often wondered how you were even recruited to the crew. 

One day you were tasked with Zoro, and it was safe to say he was a bit hesitant.

He didn’t want you to be a hindrance to him. He didn’t want to constantly look over his shoulder, just to see if you were safe.

“Ready to go?” 

Zoro was snapped out of his thoughts to see you waiting for him. You were wearing a white long-sleeved crop top with a bow in between your chest, a light pink mini skirt with high black platform boots. To top things off, you adored two pink bows in your hair and you were carrying a tote bag.

Zoro rolls his eyes, “yeah. Let’s just go.” 

The both of you start walking together with no conversation ensuing. The only thing being said was from you… correcting the way he was going.

On the pathway, two men were walking towards you.

You didn’t pay any mind to it, since you thought they would be on their way.

However, Zoro kept one good eye on them just in case. He didn’t like the way they were eyeing the both of them. 

As the two men walked by them, it seemed that everything was just fine. Just maybe he was overreacting a little bit. 

However, a slap was heard and the next thing he had seen was blood spewing in the air. 

To the untrained eye, the person wouldn’t have seen what happened. However, with Zoro, he saw everything. 

The man closest to you had smacked your butt… and the next thing you did shocked him. You swiveled, taking the knife that was in your bag… and cut his hand off. 

Zoro was a bit shocked. He didn’t expect you to be carrying that in your bag.

The look on your face sent shivers down his spine. With a wide smile, eyes wide, and pupils shrank- you only stared down at the wailing man in enjoyment. 

“You bitch! You cut my hand off!” The man screeches as he holds onto his wrist. He was on his knees, tears running down his face from the pain.

His companion stares at you in shock as well. 

“And you touched my ass. It seemed like a fair deal to me.” 

His companion raises his fist, ready to strike you. But you were faster. Using the weeping man as leverage, you push him down and use him as a stepping stone to stab the other man in the chest. 

The man chokes a gurgled gasp as blood pours out of his mouth. The man struggles to fight back against you, but you render him completely useless as you push him to the ground. 

Zoro could only watch in amazement as you stabbed the men over, and over again. All with a large smile on your face. 

Once you deemed the men dead you stood up with that smile still on your face. The crazy look in your eyes slowly disappears. 

“Sorry about that.” You say while straightening out your clothes. 

“Oh, um, don’t worry about it.” 

Zoro eyes you up and down, taking in your bloodied figure. He wasn’t used to this… but he found it quite charming.

It was a different side of you that he quite liked. It made his heart beat a little faster than normal, something that he wasn’t used to. 

“Should we get you cleaned up?” He asks, referring to the blood that was plastered on your skin. 

“Oh,” you pull out your knife covering. 

Zoro lips pursed as he eyes the pink crochet knife covering. 

“Do you think it’s ruined?” You ask, pointing out the red splotches. 

Zoro sighs at the whiplash of your personality. Something he wasn’t expecting, but he realized that he didn’t mind it. 

“No…” Zoro starts already dreading and regretting what he was about to say, “It’s still… cute.” He mutters the last word like it burns his tongue. 

Your face lights up at his words, happy that said something nice about your crochet knife covering. 

“Thank you.” You gleam while bending down to wipe the knife clean of blood.

Placing the knife where it belongs you turn back to Zoro. 

“Ready to go?” You ask him.

“Hold on.” 

He rips off part of the hem of his shirt. Bringing up the piece of cloth, he wipes away some splattered blood from your face. 

The proximity causes you to freeze up a little. But you enjoyed the warm feeling it brought you. 

Once he pulls away, you can see the slight pink on his face. You enjoyed seeing the pink on his face, it suited him. 

You were determined to see that pink on him more often.

[anthotneystark]

Wanna change my clothes, my hair, my face

It doesn’t happen suddenly.

Or, it does, but it’s a long time coming.

It’s a long time coming because it’s been coming his whole life. It’s been coming since the first time someone looked at him and said “it’s a good thing you’re pretty”. It’s been coming since the first time he heard someone say “beauty over brains”. It’s been coming since he was old enough to know that his dad was already planning on having to make connections to get him into a school of his choosing. He’s always known his book smarts were lacking, but it always hurt when he was reminded of it.

But it’s been more recent than that too.

It’s been coming since he felt that slick tail wrap around his neck. It’s been coming since Robin helped to change the bandages on his back. It’s been coming since the first date after everything ended with him going to bed alone because “I’m just not in the mood anymore” followed him pulling off his shirt.

It’s been coming since forever.

His looks have been his biggest asset his entire life, the only thing he could really use to get attention. And now there’s scratches in the paint.

After everything, when they’re finally safe, everything changes.

He doesn’t change, or he doesn’t think he does, because his habits are the same and his thoughts are the same and his nightmares are the same. But life slows down. And with it slowing down, he changes anyway.

Where once he was all lean, taut muscle, he softens. It’s still there, his daily runs and exercise are proof of that, but it’s a little more insulated.

(Robin tells him it’s because he’s been living with the stress of monsters for years, that feeling safe has pushed his body out of survival mode.)

It’s been coming though. With each comment from his mother about how he’s clearly eating too much junk food. With his father’s comments about how long his hair has gotten. With how girls’ eyes just skim right over him and move on.

It’s not all bad, of course. The kids, surprisingly, don’t comment beyond their usual teasing over things within his control – “stripes again? Don’t you have any other patterns?” or “why do you have to wear those shorts while you’re cleaning the pool?” which is usually followed by Eddie smacking whoever said it. Max makes exactly one comment, quietly, when it’s just the two of them still awake during a movie night.

“You’re a better pillow these days.”

Maybe it’s a joke, maybe she’s just being nicer with her teasing, but whatever her reasoning he likes it. When he thinks about it like that, being different doesn’t feel like a bad thing.

It doesn’t usually last long though.

So it’s not a sudden thing, until it is.

He’s not even totally sure what causes it. Some comment, sure, but the words themselves are in one ear and out the other. His parents are leaving for another trip, his mother comments about eating healthier while they’re gone, his father makes some dig that’ll lodge under his skin with all the other barbs he’s thrown at him for all these years.

All he really remembers is that a comment is made. The rush of heat and sour bile in his throat. The door shuts and all he can hear are overlapping echoes of all the comments that have ever been thrown at him. All he can feel is the tightness of the tee shirt he’s wearing the weight that no longer rests on his shoulders, but which is spread over his entire body. He finds himself looking into a mirror and suddenly cannot look at that any longer.

His hands shake and he doesn’t trust himself, but he knows where he can go.

It should scare him that he doesn’t remember the drive. It should scare him that he’s here but doesn’t fully know how he got here. But he doesn’t have room for more panic in his head. They’re past the point of knocking, of waiting to be let in, so pushing through the doorway of the trailer is a familiar motion. Eddie looking up and smiling where he’s strumming his guitar is a familiar sight.

The way his smile faulters and turns into a frown is less familiar.

“Stevie? What’s wrong?” He feels like he can’t breath, can’t possibly explain everything in his head, but he can’t just expect Eddie to read his mind. He’s not Robin after all.

“I need it gone. Off. I can’t…I can’t,” he manages, one shaking hand sliding into his hair and tugging, the pain grounding for just a moment. Eddie might not be able to read his mind, but he understands him these days more than most people. It’s an unlikely friendship founded in terror and fortified by countless hours in hospital rooms and new homes.

“Oh sweetheart. Are you sure?” He knows it’s extreme, but he can’t help what he needs, even if Eddie is concerned. He nods, swallowing hard. Eddie doesn’t try to talk him out of it, just pulls him to the bathroom and sits him on the edge of the tub.

“Lets start small, okay? And we can go as far as you need from there.” He wants to argue, but at the same time he knows it’s reasonable. And it’s Eddie. He trusts Eddie. He can’t make any words come out, but he manages a little nod. Eddie, doing what he does best, just starts talking. He’s not really paying attention to the words, but he doesn’t have to. He can feel the chill of the metal scissors, the soft rumble of Eddie’s voice, the too gentle fingers pushing and pulling him into whatever position is best. Eddie pauses now and again, a question in his eyes, but continues on when he sees whatever he’s looking for still lingering.

It's not until Steve feels his shoulders slumping, his hands loosening where they’re clenched at his knees, the chill of the breeze from the open window hitting skin that no longer feels boiling hot, that Eddie sets down the scissors. He feels lighter, doesn’t even care about the itchy feeling of stray hairs clinging to his clothes and skin.

When he finally looks in the mirror, his hair is shorter than it’s been in years. It’s not gone, not buzzed off, but it’s not the same as it was.

Neither is he though.

Eddie’s giving him a knowing look, one that says he’s got something to say but is holding off.

The cut itself is a little rough, but in a good way. It’s clearly not a professional sort of thing; he likes it more because of it.

“Thank you,” he whispers, exhaustion and relief hitting him in equal measures.

“You know, when I buzzed my hair, there were a lot of rumors,” Eddie says softly. “Stuff about my dad punishing me, about looking too girly before, that sort of thing. But really, it was just…so much going on all at once. My dad had just gotten arrested, mom took off, Uncle Wayne was stressed over having another mouth to feed. I felt like I couldn’t breath and just-” he makes a buzzing noise and mimes shaving through the mop of dark hair, which he’s got tied back today now that Steve can actually see it.

“Just had to get it off?” he asks.

“Yep. Needed it gone. Growing it back was a pain, but it was good too. Felt like a fresh start even if it was a little like trying to get back to where I used to be,” Eddie explains. It makes sense, at least to Steve. “So, you know, I get it. But I also know you’d have another breakdown if we shaved it all off completely,” he jokes. It’s enough to drag a laugh out of him.

It’s very Eddie, baring his soul while he’s helping to bandage a lost sheep, and Steve wishes he had the words to say how grateful he is. Instead, he just takes the towel Eddie throws at him and the soft, well worn clothes Eddie sets on the counter. He showers, pulls on a shirt for a band he doesn’t recognize, and breathes out a sigh of relief when the vice around his body finally, finally, comes loose.

Eddie doesn’t wait long once he sits down on the couch, immediately flopping back to use his thighs as a pillow while he goes back to strumming along to the music in his head. It’s a quiet moment, a safe moment. He doesn’t even notice as his head drops back to rest on the cushions, his breathing slowing as he finally feels light enough to rest.

Later, he’ll wake up with their positions reversed, with Eddie playing with his hair in a way that’ll make his brain turn into mush. Later, he’ll gather the courage to finally stop toeing that line of friendship and more that he and Eddie have been dancing on for so long now. Later, Eddie will hear everything that’s been in his head and will hold him down while he kisses every last insecurity and promises that it’s only made him more obsessed with him.

Maybe that won’t fix the insecurities, but that doesn’t mean Eddie isn’t going to make it very clear just how happy he is loving Steve exactly as he is at every point in time.

Because it doesn’t happen suddenly.

Or, it does, but it’s a long time coming.

[gassydumbjocks]

Do it like a Macho

Joel finished putting on his favorite shirt to go out, and checked his chat again, he could hardly believe that he had agreed to go out with that guy his best friend had told him about, he had broken up with his ex months ago, and didn't seem to feel ready to take on another relationship, but, well, a date was better than staying depressed on his couch all afternoon eating junk food watching rom-coms.

He finished by adding his perfume, checking himself once again in the mirror, and sighing "Please dont be a jerk this time" he wished for his next date, when the bell ring got him out of trance.

He ran when he heard the doorbell, and to his great surprise, a tall boy, with a some-what tanned skin, clearly showing latino roots, beefy complexion, large muscles, showed out of his door. There was only one detail, the hunk boy was shirtless, only wearing some gym shorts, and if that wasnt enough, a slight stench was present almost immediately, making obvious it came from the big jock, Joel wrinkled his nose a little trying to be discreet.

"Ehh.. Hello, can I help you?" He asked, raising an eyebrow, the jock frowned. "Are you Joel?" He limited himself to ask.

"Yes, uh, are you the boy with whom I had a dat..." his words were interrupted as the animal of a man simply proceed and grabbed him by his head, within a second, he had his head to remain below in one of his armpits, receiving directly that aroma he lingered before, making him cough on the manly scent.

"Shut up! Faggot!" Saul said with an expression of disgust, without any effort he grabbed Joel's shirt collar while he tried to gasp for some air "I don't go to dates with sissys like you! I only hang out with my bros" he told him furiously. "This should put some hair on that chest of yours" Not having time to react quickly, the stinky hunk let out a deep, nasty burp right in his face.

BOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRPPPPP!!!

"Now lets start... Real men don't cook, that's for the ladies" the jock said as he blew the remains of his burp towards the poor, scrawny nerd.

As Joel forcibly inhaled Saul's putrid smoke, his brain began to be penetrated by the stench, new memories being created that would replace everything that made Joel him, memories of his mother teaching him how to cook and take care of himself, became in memories of his mother cooking for him, his father and brothers.

"Ugh, God... That's disgusting" Joel swallowed the burp while trying not to vomit while gagging.

"Come on man, you have to get out the machismo inside you... Real men don't clean, we are made to be crude, and ought to be grotty" Saul raised a leg and squinted an eye, before grunting.

PPPPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTT!!!

After letting out a loud fart that rumbled through his shorts, with a quick maneuver Saul brought Joel closer to his butt, being greeted by the toxic smell emanating from it, Joel swore it would be enough to knock out an elephant, coughing violently.

Again, his mind felt blurred, his thoughts changing with more memories again, since he was a child, the nerdy boy had always been a clean freak, tidying his room and cooperating with his sisters to clean the whole house. now, for some reason he could only remember him and his brothers watching soccer games in their undies, dirty plates of food filling the kitchen sink, dirty clothes scattered throughout the all the house, the toilet bowl up and dirty.

"What's going on?" Joel said, now more dizzy and confused than ever, his nausea preventing him from reasoning clearly and making a superhuman effort not to smell that foul bomb.

"You're becoming a man, that's happening, you better brace your pathetic self, this is a damn combo" Saul warned, then his stomach growled fiercely, while a smirk appeared in his mouth.

"NO!" Joel pleaded, but it was too late, as his please were overshadowed by Saul bending down to be at his height, only to blurt out in his face "MAAAAN UUUUUUUPPP-UUURRRRRRP!!!!" He belched his words out, while forcing the weak gay boy to sniff the nauseating blast.

By that point Joel had already fallen to the ground, crying and suffocating, pleading that this was some kind of nightmare, Saul rolled his eyes and growled "What a fuckin baby, it's just a little man gas, what are you?! Uh? You're a guy, you should be proud... Real men always let the gas rip" he said. , before bending over again, putting his big ass in those smelly shorts scented with all those gases dangerously close to his face, to let one last fart finish his job, poor Joel just having a final view of the ass getting closer "NOOOOOO!!..."

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTT!!!

...

"And he is right..." was the first thought that Joel had after the abrupt attack in that gas chamber "Men always let it rip... A Man loves to let it rip, its just a dude thing we have to assert our dominance" was what came out then of his lips, before Saul heard and turned to see him, and a huge smile of satisfaction formed on his face.

"Fuck yeah man, nothing like dropping a fat one with your bros for a good laugh, right? We guys should always think farts are funny, they're manly" he remarked.

And as if it was a cue, a growl in Joel's stomach began to growl and make him uncomfortable, he simply patted himself and raised his leg.

PPPPPPPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRTTTT!!!

"ahh, that felt good" he sighed and letted a dumb chuckle "i have to quit that chipotle next time" he said with a grin, and Saul hit his shoulder playfully.

"haha that's nothing bro, the burping contest we had on our boys' night was brutal, man, you can even belch out the alphabet like a maestro, eh? Show off those roars" Saul added with a huge smile.

"AHHH.. BEHHH... CEEHH.. DEEEHHH" His mind was blank now, a simple order like that was enough to control him and make the burps start to come out of him, even when he didn't feel the need to burp, he just wanted to show off with his bro... It is what real men do.

"That felt good" He said, with a stupid grin forming in his lips too.

"As it should be! You gotta take pride in your machismo, huh? Machote" He said before slapping hiss ass, causing a small but putrid fart to come out of his now plump ass, making both of them laugh. "damn yeah, bro, its fuckin great to be a man" Joel said and Saul nodded proudly.

With that putrid gas, Joel sealed his new persona, letting his old gay and scrawny being fly away in the form of that smelly fart, to become a dumber, grosser, sexist, loud, and obnoxious version of him, a real man, and a real macho.

Seconds later he got a text from his best friend, or his best bro, and read it "Broo, hurry up and bring your fuckin ass here, we gotta have a boys night and watch the game, bring the beer, haven't Saul picked you up yet?"

He smirked and responded "On our way brodah, don't nuke your room too soon, I want to breath some fresh air for the match" He joked and chuckled dumbly, as he squinted one eye and simply lifted his leg to rip a fat deep one before going out his place, fist bumping with Saul.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 21 - Fool

@jegulus-microfic June 21, Word count 548

Previous part First part

When James woke, Regulus was still holding tight to the lion he’d won for him. The employee at the toss-a-hoop stand had not been impressed when he and Sirius both got all three of their hoops on the giant prize bottles. He’d reluctantly handed over the lion and the wolf to them, muttering something under his breath that James was sure he didn’t want to hear. 

He wrapped his arms tighter around Regulus, bringing him as close as possible. Regulus squirmed against him. James huffed out a breath through his nose before he nuzzled into the soft skin of Regulus’s neck, peppering kisses along the arch, gently rousing Regulus from sleep. 

“Hi,” Regulus murmured sleepily.

“What do you say we stay in bed all day today?” James asked, brushing the tip of his nose against Regulus’s ear. 

“Sirius will just barge in if we don’t get up,” Regulus said, stretching back against James. 

“Well, you see, the thing is I kinda forgot about the washing I left in your washer and I don’t have any clean clothes,” James admitted, embarrassed that he’d completely forgotten.

Regulus sat up and pointed to a neatly folded pile of clothes on the chair in the corner.

“I dried and folded your clothes for you,” James looked at him with amazement. 

“Have I told you how much I love you?” He asked, the three words slipping out before he could catch them. He forced his body not to tense up and spook Regulus. 

“No,” Regulus said after swallowing hard. Regulus hadn’t freaked out, so James relaxed a bit. 

“Then I’m a total fool. I do you know,” He didn’t know why he didn’t just stop talking, but he couldn’t help it. Now he’d said it once, he had to say it again. “Love you, that is,” 

“You do?” Regulus’s voice was quiet and oddly muffled. James lifted his head to see Regulus’s face better. He’d buried it in the lion’s mane, which explained his muffled voice. James stroked his fingers through Regulus’s hair. 

“I do, very much,” Regulus spun around, so he was facing James.

“I love you too,” He blurted out, slightly louder than the quiet moment called for, but James didn’t even notice, he was busy dragging Regulus towards him and kissing him deeply,

“Thank you for doing my washing,” He said when they broke apart to catch their breaths.

“I wish I hadn’t,” Regulus giggled into his lion, which had come with him when he rolled over. 

“I think Mr Lion can go guard the door for a bit,” James said, plucking the lion from Regulus’s hands and tossing it in the direction of the door. It bounced off the wood with a soft thump. 

“Hey, that’s my lion!” Regulus grumbled, looking at the fallen toy.

“I don’t think he wants to be between us right now,” James laughed low, feeling it vibrate through his chest. Regulus must have felt it too as he swung his leg over James’s hip and dragged himself closer. 

“Oi! Breakfast in five!” A loud bang at the door, popping the latch open and Sirius’s booming voice called louder. James sighed and, with a soft sweet kiss, released Regulus before he went over to the chair to pull out some clean clothes from the pile. 

[monstersflashlight]

Commission for @ziggyztarduzt

A/N: Thank you so much for your commission! I took the color and general inspo of the character from Yurgir, but I haven’t played the game so this is just purely my imagination playing. I hope you like it <3

Request: hi, hello! Big fan of your writing and blog, and I wanted to request literally anything with an Orthon from DnD 👀 I don’t really have specifics, I am just mightily attracted to Yurgir from BG3 because Big and Beefy. It def doesn’t have to be BG3/fantasy-related at all!

Big and Beefy

Orthon x fem!reader || size difference, oral sex, rough fucking

You didn’t know what kind of bad decisions you took to leave you literally hanging upside down in the middle of a forest. But definitely were a few bad choices in your near past. You thought it would be a good idea to explore the forest around the settlement, bad choice. You stepped into a trap, you didn’t know who set it, but there was definitely someone around these woods who knew a thing or two about good traps, you were unable to untie yourself.

“Help! Help, please!” You screamed, not expecting anyone to come get you. You tried to free yourself, but your core wasn’t strong enough to hold you in a good position to cut the ropes… Fuck fuck fuck.

“What do we have here? My trap caught a pretty little human.” You turned around so fast your brain started spinning.

You sighed relieved when you saw one of your travel companions, his big red body approaching you like he owned the place. “Oh, thank the goddess you are here. Please let me down.” Your relief was short lived as he laughed at you and cut the rope right over you. Your body hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. “You stupid shit! You could be careful!” You complained, trying to get up and clean the dirt off your clothes. He laughed harder, his big belly shaking as he did so. Good lord, why he had to be so sexy.

You turned around to look at him once again, still on your knees on the floor, and found your face mere millimeters away from a very hard, very, very, very big dick. “Lick,” was his only command. He had pushed aside his loincloth, and there was nothing between your mouth and his monster cock. Your mouth started to water instantly.

“What are you talking about? Are you insa-” you tried to argue, pushing his leg away but not moving him at all. It was not the time or the place, you had stuff to do at the camp. He didn’t agree. You two had been having casual sex for months, traveling through the kingdom was pretty boring when you didn’t have to fight anyone.

He grabbed your hair and arched your neck, rubbing his dick against your face. “Lick,” he repeated, voice final.

You grunted in annoyance, but opened your mouth either way. His precum filled your mouth instantly, you both knew you couldn’t get him inside your moth, probably not even the tip, but he loved when you toyed with his slit until he was cursing and spilling over your torso.

You looked up at him, his head thrown back. You could only see his horns and his round red belly over your head, his skin deep red. Having such a big beefy monster groaning in passion with just your tongue and tiny human hands made you feel powerful, and it turned you on like crazy. You could feel your pussy getting wetter by the second.

Feeling cheeky, you asked: “Who’s the boss here now?” You kissed down his length as your hands cupped his big balls. You realized very fast how bad of a question that was.

You felt the world tilting his axis as pulled you up and positioned you on a big rock nearby, face down. The movement was so fast you couldn’t react fast enough to try to struggle a little (you both liked a bit of that). His big hand plastered you to the rock, so big and heavy the air left your lungs. You felt so tiny next to him, his hand covering your whole back. You tried to tell him off but weren't fast enough. He manhandled you until your body was in perfect position to…

"Oh fuck!" Your exclamation was short lived as he started to pound into you, his big belly hitting your ass as he moved you up and down his shaft. His hands grabbed your hips roughly, he was leaving bruises on purpose, to see you wince every time you sit down tomorrow… He loved to have you groaning at the feel of him for days, just to mark you all over again.

You were sure you were mumbling nonsense, your brain fucked out, and you didn't even care. Your drool was creating a pool under your face, and your pussy was making gushing sounds. You were so wet it felt like he was on a slide inside of you. He pounded into your pussy, stretching you so wide you felt like you were going to split.

"You pretend you don't like this but you are moaning like a whore, darling," he grunted behind you, pulling at your hair to make you arch your back. You moaned again, louder this time. "You are so wet, so tight, your pussy is like a vice. It doesn’t matter how many times I fuck you, you are always so fucking tight," he groaned loudly and gravelly, forcing his dick a bit further, so deep you could feel him on your stomach. Fuck, that was good.

"You- You are just- Just- Too big..." Your voice broke down at the last part, his dick hitting something new inside of you that made your brain short-circuit. You cried out as your body convulsed under his, his attack on your pussy and your senses so overwhelming your vision turned white and your strength left your body.

He moved your limp body over his dick, mumbling about how good you were. “Such a good pussy, such a good fleshlight for me… My human,” he grunted the last part as he came inside of you. You pushed your ass back to feel him deeper, to feel him filling you to the brim, some come spilling around his dick still inside of you. He made a mess of you again, dang. It was so good, always so good with him…

Your big beefy personal monster-toy.

Remember you can also commission stuff like this, info here.

[runarvisa]

Trigger warnings!! (Tw) : blood, torture, mentions of rape (please be careful) 🫠

Astarion getting ready for his first night with Tav.

Astarion taking the natural sponges from inventory and sneaking away at dusk to the nearest stream of water while nobody's watching.

Astarion making sure he's scrubbed every part of his thin body with sponges and herbs until he's immaculate clean.

Him applying essences and balms on his skin afterwards. Adding his handmade bergamot, rosemary and brandy perfume on the sides of his neck, wrists and styling his hair by heart as a final touch.

A perfectly crafted ritual he repeated mechanically for centuries.

Almost as inevitable as each blow of Godey's iron whip as it ripped apart his skin when Cazador caught him slightly messy after a long night of hunting.

Almost as surgical as Cazador mocking him he was made for the sewers rather than a vampire lord's castle when he caught him with a misplaced curl or a tiny stain on his clothes.

Almost as maniacal as Cazador threatening to leave him on the dirty floor of the kennel for the rest of eternity, cause that's where he belongs.

Cazador grinning while smearing blood from his injuries all over his body and admiring the helpless weight of his spawn as it hangs from the chains, hair and clothes completely ripped apart and drenched in blood. And licking his fingers, pleased at the sight of his masterpiece.

No avail in trying to explain the man he had met in Baldur's Gate was huge and wanted to do every sort of things before he could finally convince him to follow him to Szarr's palace...that it was a miracle he only had some messy curls and a faint smell of sweat on himself.

"You were always the worst of my hunters, boy, so shallow, so sloppy, so unfit".

And then his master left and kept him there in his own dirt for weeks or maybe months, who knew what difference it made...time ceased to exist decades before.

Yes, Astarion automatically ensures he's perfect for his first encounter with Tav. An accurately crafted facade made of seducing perfume and perfectly rehearsed scripts. Always the same since centuries.

Astarion slowly starting to forget small chunks of his nightly ritual as he gets more comfortable with Tav. First he stops washing his clothes thrice before wearing them. Then sometimes he forgets his perfume, or leaves some rebellious curls free to dance on his forehead.

Tav accidentally finding him in his bathing location and asking him why he's scrubbing the same spotless area since five minutes. Astarion wincing and apologising as he snaps back to reality while Tav asks him why he's apologising.

Astarion mentally adding one more reason to the endless list of reasons he wants Cazador's disfigured body in his lap as soon as possible.

It's my very first WIP, I apologise for potential mistakes, English is not my first language 😩 Hope you enjoyed 🥰

Also, sorry for potential emotional damage 🫠

[moutainrusing]

poison

Cackles and drunken laughter filled the empty, lamp-lit street as Sirius and his friends lounged about on deserted pavements and roads, chugging beer bottles and smoking cigarettes, teasing each other about meaningless nothings. They had spray paint canisters rolling about at their feet, and Sirius’s clothes were bizarrely spattered with a mixture of vibrant colours from their attempt to beautify the ancient stone buildings surrounding them. (It hadn’t worked.)

“And then,” James was laughing, spilling beer over his torn jeans, “He told me I was a useless layabout, right, but how useless am I really, ‘cause right when he said that, the dunderhead tried to step intimidatingly towards me, and tripped over the fucking beer spill I was trying to clean. Like, dude, I ain’t useless, I was literally cleaning the mess of the customers. Anyway, I got fired.”

Sirius snorted, rolling his eyes. “Old men are just stupid, innit?”

James nodded, “Uh huh, ‘specially you, you big old man.”

“Oh, fuck off, just ‘cause I’m born earlier than all of you, I get bullied,” Sirius shoved James away.

Remus laughed quietly, leaning against the railing of the stairs the rest of them were sitting on while smoking his cigarette. “Wanna file a report against us?”

Sirius smirked. “Nah, who’d listen?”

“No one in this fucking town,” Remus grinned back, stubbing out his cigarette with his boot.

“Urgh, don’t remind me,” Marlene dramatically fell over Remus’s feet. “None of ‘em give a shit about nothing. We could be dying, and they’d be like, ‘yes, finally, the population has reduced.’”

“One less citizen to deal with,” Mary mockingly sneered at her.

“Oh, the youth has gone to shit, and we can’t do shit about it!” Lily sang.

“Bro,” James looked at her. “That’s some dope tune.”

“Ha!” She scoffed. “Shame my musical genius is wasted ‘cause this town can’t afford it.”

“Sing to me, then,” James propped his chin on his hand and fluttered his eyelashes at her. “Don’t let your voice go to waste.”

Lily kicked his face. Sirius doubled over laughing. “Ow,” James moaned.

Remus passed him a bottle, and James looked at him with an awe-struck expression, pressing it to his cheek. “Woah, how’d you get it so cold?”

“‘Cause he’s fucking cold, duh,” Marlene lifted her head slightly.

Peter shook his head, “I don’t understand how the word ‘cold’ now means insanely awesome, like—”

“‘Cause the youth is shiiit,” Lily yelled into his ear. He batted her away with a laugh.

Just then, a van entered the street, and slowly came to a stop in front of them. They raised their eyebrows at each other, because truly, none of them would mind in the slightest if a bunch of kidnappers in ski masks rolled out and held them at gunpoint.

Although it wasn’t a bunch of kidnappers, it was just one guy stepping elegantly out of the side door, and he wasn’t wearing a ski mask, because Sirius could clearly see his smooth skin, his high cheekbones, his chiselled jawline, his crystal blue eyes, his bright blond hair—

James placed a hand beneath his jaw and closed it, muttering, “Keep it in your pants.”

Sirius scowled. He was keeping it in his pants, it’s just, in their town, no one ever had such smooth, unblemished skin, or fashionable, contemporary clothes — everyone had their scars and bruises and completely shredded jeans.

Remus snorted, and flicked a bit of cigarette ash over his hair, bending down to murmur in his ear, “Stop pouting, you’ll get smokers’ lines.”

Sirius felt a thrill run through his body, and he gave Remus a cheeky chin, plucking the cigarette from his fingers. He took a drag, and breathed smoke over Remus’s lips. “We’ll get smokers’ lines even without pouting, Remy. What’re we doing right now?”

Remus took the cigarette back. “Making the most of our wrinkle-less faces,” he smirked, blowing even more smoke back at Sirius.

Sirius laughed. Then he noticed the man having stopped in front of them in his periphery, and he turned away.

Lily had narrowed her eyes at the man, and snapped, “What d’you want?”

He laughed; it was cold, and jarring, and sent chills down Sirius’s spine. It was a complete contrast to the warm, exhilarating tingles Remus’s laughter gave him. “I mean no harm,” the stranger assured. “I simply noticed,” and then he looked at Sirius, “Beauty.”

Sirius felt blood rush to his cheeks. He pointedly looked at his scuffed trainers. What the fuck did this guy mean, that a delinquent like Sirius was beautiful?

The man continued, “I am Gellert Grindelwald. I run a modelling agency, and I’ve been looking for new faces. What would you all say to posing for me while I take some photos?”

Marlene laughed incredulously. “The hell? You want photos of a bunch of drunk, troublesome teenagers?”

“Yeah, hell no,” Mary scoffed.

Gellert coolly raised an eyebrow, which looked threaded and pencilled, not a single hair out of place, unlike all their messy, imperfect faces. “It pays well.”

And then all their eyes widened. They shared a glance between each other, a glance which said, We need the money.

James sighed, “Alright. Fine. Do what you like with us. But just one photo.”

Gellert flashed them a smile of perfectly straight, sharp, pearly white teeth. “Sure. I’ll give you all fifty each.”

Peter gaped at him. “Fifty?!”

Gellert looked unimpressed. “You’ll catch flies if you don’t close your mouth.”

Peter shut his mouth immediately, tomato-red with embarrassment. Gellert seemed to smirk at this, and he ridiculed, “You know, it’s a miracle that you’re ever able to close your mouth; just look at yourself.” He pointedly glanced at Peter’s body, which, admittedly, was on the plump side. But Sirius bristled; that was hardly a bad thing.

In fact, James and Lily both took extreme offence to this, and simultaneously rose to their feet. “Take that fucking back!” Lily yelled.

James declared, “I’ll have you know, all people are fucking beautiful! Some of my favourite are what you’d call ‘plus size’, but that doesn’t make them worth any less to me!”

Gellert waved them off, “I’m aware plus sized models can be dazzling, that’s why I’m keeping this young lad in the photo,” he pointed at Peter.

“Oh, fuck off,” Lily scoffed, throwing herself back down. “All plus sized people are beautiful, did you not fucking get that?”

Gellert rolled his eyes. “Albus,” he called to the van behind him. “Bring me my camera.”

Another man, with a dark, well-groomed beard, stepped out of the van, holding a chunky camera. He passed it to the photographer, before casting an inscrutable gaze over them and noting, “An interesting collection, Gellert.”

Gellert simply smiled, and began taking pictures.

“Woah, woah, hold on,” Sirius jumped up and marched towards him. He reached for the camera and tried to grab it from Gellert’s hand, who held it out of his reach boredly. Sirius glowered, “We said one photo.”

Gellert simply smirked, slung his camera over his shoulder, plucked the pen from Albus’s waiting palm, took the lid off with his mouth — which caused Sirius to accidentally stare a bit too long at his lips — and scribbled something on Sirius’s hand. Then he walked back to the van.

Albus’s eyes glimmered slightly, and he nodded to Sirius with an amused smile, slapping a wad of cash into his hand. “That covers all the photos.” Then he walked back to the van, and they drove off.

“Yo, Sirius,” James bounded up to him. “What’d he write?”

Sirius displayed his hand. “Seven Slytherin Green… three-thirty,” James muttered. “Huh.”

Marlene then came up and slapped them both on the shoulders. “Alright, let’s distribute that money!”

“Woah,” Peter gasped as they each received five hundred quid.

“Holy shit! We can pay the bills now! We’re not gonna get kicked out!” Lily cheered.

“The central fucking heating,” Mary added.

Remus glanced at the money in his hand with a frown, and Sirius looked at him curiously. Remus gave him a soft smile and shrugged, pocketing it. “So… going to Slytherin Green?”

Sirius shrugged. “Maybe. Probably another photoshoot, innit?”

“Yeah,” Remus nodded. “I’ll come with if you wanna go.”

“Really?” Sirius beamed, now looking forward to going simply because of Remus.

“‘Course.” The response only made Sirius beam even harder, and he grabbed Remus’s hands, forcing him to dance under orange glows, just drunk and happy and so high on the warm rush Remus gave him, these magnetic thrills flowing into Sirius’s veins from Remus’s calloused fingertips pressed into the pads of his own.

That was how, the next day, at three-thirty in the afternoon, Sirius, Remus, James and Peter found themselves standing in front of Seven Slytherin Green.

“Do we just go in?” Peter gestured to the open warehouse.

“Yes,” James stated confidently, and swaggered in first.

Sirius scoffed, because he was the one invited, so quickly, he strode in after James, matching his strut.

And… wow. The place looked so cool. There were pure, spotless white backdrops, nothing like the town’s piss-stained walls, and bright, flashing lights, making everything look new and shiny, unlike their dingy old flats, and there were state-of-the-art props (a bloody wicked motorbike!) and everything was just so modern. Stylish. Classy.

Gellert was in the centre of it all, snapping photos of two models intently.

“Hey,” Sirius called. Gellert turned around and his lips quirked up. Sirius realised he really needed to stop looking at his lips.

He didn’t talk, just took Sirius’s arm, and tugged him forward, encouragingly jerking his head towards the models as he pushed Sirius in between them. Then he took a photo.

“Ain’t that one a beauty?” He smirked, turning the camera to show Sirius.

“I—” Sirius felt pure shock. And elation. He could be a model? What?

James ambled over, peering eagerly at the photo. “Hot damn!”

Peter whistled his approval while glancing at it subtly, but Remus. Remus didn’t even take it in. He just looked at Sirius, and muttered, “Prefer the real thing.” Before Sirius could even question it, he’d gone out to take a smoke.

Fine. Be that way, Sirius thought. He couldn’t help but feel offended. Did Remus think he wasn’t pretty enough to be a model? But then he’d said he preferred the real thing, so did that mean he preferred it when Sirius was ugly? He preferred Sirius when the camera hadn’t beautified him? Did he not like the fact that Sirius could actually be something this way? Be more than some repulsive, disowned street urchin?

Sirius forced a grin, pushing aside whatever shit was going on in Remus’s brain, and looked Gellert in the eye. “Can we take more?”

“I was counting on that.”

And then Sirius was pushed in front of the pure white backdrop, and being told to pose in these alluring positions, which he had no idea he was capable of, and then James was joining in, and they were back to back, hair falling into their eyes as they looked down at their feet, oozing confidence and poise, then Peter was joining in, beaming at the camera with chubby cheeks, looking all cute and adorable.

Although Remus came in and glared at this, muttering something about, “Stereotypes. Just ‘cause he’s chubby doesn’t mean he can’t be cool and confident.”

Gellert didn’t even look at him. “I know what sells. You would sell too. Wanna join your friends?”

Remus’s lip curled up into a sneer. “No. I’ll be out there waiting until it’s time to leave this shithole.”

Sirius gaped at him. This place wasn’t a shithole. It was the fucking opposite. Maybe Remus was just hungover and grumpy? But Sirius could always make him smile even if that were the case.

Gellert tapped his chin thoughtfully, turning to look at Remus’s back. “A shame. You think it’s possible to convince him?”

Sirius jumped at the chance. “Yeah,” then he chased after Remus, leaning against the side of the warehouse with him.

“Are you okay?” He asked carefully, gently nudging Remus’s shoe with his own.

“Spiffing.”

Sirius burst out laughing. Remus looked at him, and something seemed to be dancing in his eyes, making them light up.

“No, really,” Sirius caught his breath, “What’s wrong?”

“I dunno. Everything just… feels wrong.”

“I think everything feels very right, actually. You’re here with me, so everything has to be right.”

“Right,” Remus drawled, looking away.

That wouldn’t do. Sirius wanted Remus to look at him. “Hey,” he whispered. “Gellert thinks you’d make a good model too.”

“I don’t really care what that codger thinks.”

“He’s not that bad.”

“You’re blinded by your insatiable libido.”

Sirius flushed. “He’s hot, okay?” He tried to joke, “I dunno how you’re resisting his charms.”

Remus scoffed slightly. “It’s pretty easy, actually.”

Sirius tried making him grin, “You’re just talented.” It didn’t work. Sirius felt unbearably disappointed.

So he tried to get to the root of the problem, “How does… the modelling business make you feel?”

Remus stared at him, cold and detached. “Wrong.”

But it made Sirius feel right. He felt something drop inside his chest, like the pieces of his life had been taken away, because that was what Remus, James and Peter were to him, and if Remus didn’t feel right with them, then what was Sirius supposed to do? He just nodded quietly, and went back inside, throwing himself to the cameras and lights.

A couple more days, and he found himself in his own dressing room, with people milling about him, spraying his hair in place with a ton of anti-frizz product, making his eyes pop with heavy eye shadow, dressing him up in tight, form-fitting clothes. It was rich and it was gorgeous. Then he stood in front of the cameras, where he could make out with other models for as long as he pleased because it was literally his job.

To be sexy. And if he hadn’t talked to Remus in a while, then it was fine. James and Peter were still here. In fact, Peter had been getting close to this other model, Tom Riddle, and it looked like he’d made a good friend. Because that’s what life was about. Living glamorously with the people you love. And if Remus didn’t want to do that… Sirius might cry. But that would ruin his mascara.

So he turned to the model he was supposed to snog for their photoshoot, and captured her lips in his own while Gellert snapped pictures in a frenzy.

Next week, there was a gala. And they were all practically shitting themselves. Because guess what this meant?

Peter squealed, “Holy shit, we’re part of like, the celebrities!”

“We’re with the other models,” James grinned with bright eyes. “We’re like, the real deal.”

Sirius smiled softly. “We can invite plus ones,” he said, almost to himself.

“I’m inviting Lily! Albus and Gellert would probably love to recruit her.”

But the only person on Sirius’s mind was Remus. “Do you think Remus would come?” He asked quietly, as if asking any louder would cause Remus to yell at him in a resolute ‘NO’.

Peter shrugged, while James replied slowly, “Text him anyway. Just to see.”

So Sirius texted him. It was weird, because even through a phone screen, Sirius’s skin was tingling and his head felt slightly light and his hands were minutely trembling, a little sweaty at the fingertips. He just felt extremely nervous. And then he felt everything crash when Remus left it on read. So he asked Marlene while Peter asked Mary.

The gala took place in a huge museum-like ballroom, with photos of all the models up on display, and Sirius was laughing with guests, buyers, and fellow models as they drank from champagne flutes and danced in their elegant suits and gowns. The place was brightly lit, not allowing anyone to be hidden, to show off their utter perfection.

Sirius was chatting to Gellert and Albus, complimenting them with all the charm he could muster, then he was flirting with other models, placing touches here, there, everywhere, but then he froze. He backed away, and moved towards the door. Because Remus just stormed in, completely contrasting the elegance in his shredded jeans and battered boots, but for some reason, Sirius thought it was perfect.

Because he hadn’t seen him in ages, and now, all he could think was how much he missed him, in all his shambolic, messy glory. The first thing he did was pull Remus into a hug. “You came,” he hummed into the warm crook of his neck.

Remus seemed to freeze, before slowly hugging him back. But as soon as they’d hugged, he’d broken away. He turned to Gellert, and looked to be picking a fight.

But Sirius couldn’t see what they were fighting about, because Albus whisked him away. “We have people… requesting for you,” he said, as if that was something of significance.

And maybe it was. Because suddenly, Sirius was face to face with his family. And his mother was smirking at him, “So I see you decided to follow the scandalous, rich way of life even after leaving us?”

Sirius’s throat felt go dry, “No, I—”

His father raised a brow, “You do realise we are the ones who provide the money for these operations? No matter how much you try to run, if you want to be successful, you’ll always come back to us.”

“It wasn’t for you! It wasn’t for success, or money, or—”

“So what was it for, Sirius?” His brother cut him off, and Sirius saw him step out from behind their parents. “You said you had to leave to escape us, because we were dirty, filthy, manipulative scammers, and then you joined back into the business? All you get from it is success and money, so tell me, what else was it for?”

And Sirius couldn’t answer that, because Regulus looked hurt, and now Sirius was hurt, and what did he do when he was hurt?

He swivelled on his heel and pushed through the crowds, shoving away hands which were getting too close to his skin, glaring at the makeup artists trying to touch up his eyes, and watching as Remus shook his head at Gellert before leaving the way he came, and not even thinking before heading in his direction.

“No one actually likes me here, do they? I’m just a money-making sex symbol.”

Remus raised a brow. “I like you.”

And that was all Sirius needed. He began taking down all the posters of his artificial body, and throwing them at the buyers. He tore his deal with the agency. He yelled at Peter to get away from the egotistical bastard that was Tom Riddle, and Peter listened, because it wasn’t too late, and Sirius wouldn’t allow it to get to the point where Tom had wormed his way under Peter’s skin.

He told Lily and James to run off and elope and live their best lives, because all that mattered was being happy with the people you love. He interrupted Albus trying to collect Marlene and Mary. He grabbed Regulus by the wrist, and swore that they would ruin the Blacks’ corrupt business, and every little leach sucking the money from their dirty cesspool.

And after, he clutched Remus and kissed him square on the mouth. Somehow he knew that everything would sort itself out as long as he listened to the man in front of him. Or his heart. But it was basically the same thing.

Microfic Compilation by MountainRuse

[fandomfics]

The Trouble with Love

Part 2

Pairings: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x fem Reader, John Hancock x fem Reader

Description: After a mishap in the wasteland you are left to wonder if the ghouls you care for and have traveled with for years feel anything for you. The answers you find are not what you expected and leave you with more questions than answers.

Part 1

⚠️WARNINGS ⚠️

18+ only, MDNI

Fluff, Unprotected p in v, creampie, missionary, cowgirl, shower scene, overstimulation

You won't have to wait long to get to the good stuff 😉

You call Cooper to come into the room, pulling the thin sheet that you slept under close to you as you sit up. Your traveling companions had seen all of you before, you'd been walking the wastes for years together, modesty was a thing of the past, but you felt the need for some barrier for the conversation to come. 

He steps through the threshold and allows the door to close behind him as he makes his way to your side. The matress creaks when he lowers his frame to the edge without looking at you and begins to speak.

"I...uh... Spoke with John this mornin'." His face is hard to read below the brim of his hat. "He said it was complicated, and to let you just talk but I don't know if I have the heart to hear that you chose him."

"That's just it Coop, I don't want to choose." His eyes meet yours and your heart jumps into your throat. "I love you... I also love John. I have been trying to figure out how to deal with this but I want to be selfish. I want you both. I understand if you can't do this, and I won't protest if you want to leave us behind. I just..." You cast your gaze down, trying to search for the right words, after a moment he crooks his pointer finger under your chin and lifts it up until you meet his gaze, the softness in his eyes and smile isn't something you're used to from the gruff cowboy. He leans close and uses the other hand to push your hair behind your ear before closing the distance between your lips. He snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you closer, kissing you with a passion you didn't know he possessed, turning you into putty in his arms until he pulls away.  

"Darlin', if that's whacha want, I think we can oblige you." His tone conveys a hint of mischief and mystery, but at that moment, you don't care to ponder why and pull him into another kiss. He doesn't allow his hands to rove your body, like you know he wants to, he remains respectful, hands running through your hair as you melt into each other once more. 

Before long a devious thought crosses your mind and you pull away and lift yourself off of the bed, leaving the sheet behind, your naked form in full view "Sorry to cut this short, but I need to shower." You say with a wink, turning to head to the bathroom.

"You have a secret fuckin shower?!" Cooper says hurriedly following behind. 

You laugh, speeding to the door made to look like a bookshelf, opening it wide as he follows you in. His hungry eyes devour every inch of your wet body as you step under the faucet and he removes his clothing as quick as he possibly can to join you.

The moment he steps into the shower he grabs for the soap and quickly washes himself clean while you bask in the tepid water. Once he has rinsed the suds away he falls to his knees. It's clear he means to worship you. The rich lather of the handmade soap coats his hands, he grabs a foot and places it on his chest, slowly he runs his slick hands over your leg from the ankle up. Savoring every second, feeling every scar, when the water rinses the soap away he trails kisses up your leg, to your inner thigh before repeating the ritual on the opposite leg. This strangely sensual act of care shows you a softer side of the man beneath the ghoul and adds to the fire you feel for him at that moment. He brings himself to his feet once more and continues mapping your body, each arm, stomach, chest, and back. Every pass of his rough hand over your soft skin heightens your senses, every kiss adding more fuel to the fire, when he's finished you want to pounce on him, but you refrain. You want to show his body the same reverence, you want him to know your love is more than a quick fuck. 

You turn off the shower and towel yourselves dry before returning you the bed. He allows you to take charge, every direction you give he follows to a T. 

"Lay face down on the bed." He looks slightly perplexed but does as he's told. You find your special body oil in the drawer next to your bed, it's unlikely he's had this type of luxury in the last couple hundred years, but he deserves it. You straddle his ass and pour some of the golden liquid in your hands and emulsify it before spreading it on his grizzled skin. You knead the knots in his back and shoulders, slowly working out the decades of stress and pain. He groans beneath you, his body relaxing more as you work. 

"No one's treated me this nice since...well...before the war." He says softly as you finish massaging him and kiss his neck. He hums blissfully and turns to meet your gaze, raising an arm for you to fall into the bed at his side, allowing him envelope you. His lips meet yours and the fire blazing in your belly grows again. He's been hard, aching for you this entire time, and his cock twitches between you. Your needy body grinds against his and the small moans that you each let loose collide in your kiss. 

He rolls you onto your back and takes his place between your legs, slowly inserting the entirety of his length into your already wet pussy. He tucks his arms under you, one gripping your shoulder from behind while the other meanders through your hair and he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. He steadily rolls his hips, boring into you hard but slow and you wrap your legs around him to angle yourself just right. 

He brings his head up to look into your eyes, not stopping the rhythm of his hips as he ruts into you. Every movement he makes is with great care as if your pleasure is the most important thing at this very moment, and nothing outside of this room exists. The glow of his eyes holds you captive, his gaze is intoxicating. 

While keeping his eyes firmly fixed on yours he flips onto his back, bringing you up to straddle him. His cock buries itself deeper with your full weight on him and you tilt your head back with a breathy moan. Pleasure builds in your core as you begin to bounce up and down. His full length fills you and you brace yourself with your hands on his chest tilting forward, his member hits just the right spot. You pick up speed and before you can say anything the dam breaks and you scream out. You fully ride the wave of pleasure to it's completion and shudder at its end. You start lift your self off of him to finish him off with your mouth when he grabs your hips and pulls you back down.

He reaches between your legs and lightly grazes your overstimulated clit with his thumb, causing you to twitch under his touch, spurring you to keep moving on top of him. 

"That's it darlin'." He purrs "I wancha ta cum again."

At his insistance you move your body again. Each brush of his finger against your clit sending bolts of overwhelming pleasure through you until you feel yourself teetering on the edge again.

"Coop, so... close..."

He watches your face intently as you Plunge into it, calling out his name. You slow once more as it ebbs away but he's almost there too. He bucks up hard until you feel the heat of his seed spread inside you and he lets out a gutteral moan. 

You lay your head on his chest, both panting, exhaustion consuming you. When you've caught your breath you roll off of him and onto your back. He turns on his side and palms your cheek before planting a loving kiss. You smile into the kiss and feel nothing but happiness. 

You cuddle into him and he holds you tight for a while, just enjoying the moment. 

"Ya know John and I used ta fuck, right?"

[scenezfreak]

soo ermm.. ben drowned x fem!reader having sex for the first time??

*scuttles away*

Omg this is so cute!

(Clarification: I write for the Slendermansion AU, Ben is in his 20s, Thank Yew.)

First Time

Ben Drowned x Fem!reader

Warnings: Smut, virginity loss implied

NOT PROOF READ, MINORS DNI.

It was finally time. You and Ben decided to have sex for the first time. You were happy he didn’t push it when he asked for the first time and you said to give it a little before actually doing it. Earlier you messaged him saying you were ready. He saw the message flash on his screen and he almost jumped out of his skin..he couldn’t tell if he was happy, anxious, or excited.

All day you had been staring at him..well more than usual. You couldn’t tell what it was, just chalking it up to you just adoring him like always. Until you really started to think..that’s when you came to the conclusion you needed him. You decided to message him, your heart dropping when he left you on read for a couple of minutes. You quickly came back to life when you saw his response, it read: “Sorry..I just didn’t know what to say. But..yes, my room or your room?” Your eyes flickered over the words on the screen. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you typed out: “Your room”.

Later that night after freshening up you made your way to his room, gently knocking on the door. Your heart picked up when he hurriedly opened the door. He didn’t say anything as he grabbed you and pulled you inside, shutting the door behind you and leading you to his bed before you felt yourself being gently pushed on the bed with him on top. He felt his cock twitch in his pants at the way your eyes looked up at him. He captured your lips in a kiss, trying to keep himself from snapping and taking you right then and there.

His hands slowly roamed over your body, he broke from the kiss to leave a trail of kisses to your neck. He gently sucks on various spots of your neck, leaving dark bruises that you were sure to stare at later. He only stoped to grab the hem of your shirt, his eyes looking into yours for permission. When you nodded he pulled your shirt off of you and then your pants. His face flushed at the sight of your matching bra and underwear. He leaned back down to kiss the top of your breasts, leaving a couple of more dark bruises.

You sat up as he fiddled with the back of your bra, you huffed out a laugh as you swatted his hands away and unclasping it your self, not giving him time to pout before you took your bra off. His eyes flickered between yours and your breasts. You guide his hand to touch you as you lay back down. His thumbs rub over your nipples causing your breath to hitch. Ben took one of your nipples into his mouth, you shuddered at the new feeling. His tongue swirling around your nipple.

You gasped and let out a whine. Your hand coming up to grab his hair, the moan he let out sent vibrations straight to your core. You gained some confidence and let your hand travel down to the tent in his pants. He stopped sucking and let out a groan, his hips rutting into your hand. “Fuck..” He cursed before leaning back and stripping himself of his own clothes. Your eyes landed on his boxers as he pulled them off, his cock springing out, the pre cum was practically dripping and your mouth watered at the sight. You shifted your hips a bit and took off your underwear, his eyes were glued to the wet patch that formed.

When he got back on top of you he sat back and spread your legs, the sight of your dripping cunt only made his cock twitch. “I’m gonna have to stretch you out, love..” He said as his fingers gently rubbed at your clit. You nodded, biting your lip to hold back a moan. He slowly inserted one finger and then another. His fingers pumping in and out, curling to right place. He moved his fingers in a scissoring motion, your legs attempted to close only to be stopped by him.

He removed his fingers and licked them clean. “So good..” he whispered. He was going to have to eat you out some other time though, his mind was far too focused on fucking you right now. He lined up with your hole. “Ready?” He asked, you looked up at him. “Yes..need you so bad..” You responded. Ben wasted no time pushing into you, both moaning at the sensation. It hurt at first but he treated you so well, kissing you to distract you from the pain. When you told him he could move he started out with a slow pace, gradually working his way up.

He leaned forward and you both stared into each others eyes with pure love as he pounded into you. Your hands clawed at his back, his balls slapped against your ass repeatedly. The sounds filled the room along with your moans. Ben kissed your neck causing you to shudder when he would occasionally groan. “Fuck, baby…so damn tight” He hissed. “I might cum already” Your hole clenched more at his words. Before you could warn him, you were cumming around his cock. He threw his head back at the added slick with and groan.

Ben sat up straight, continuing to pound his cock into you. His eyes locked onto the way his cock slid in and out of you, your cum dripping onto the bedsheets. “Takin’ me so. Fucking. Well.” He emphasized with thrusts. Your eyes filled with tears as he overstimulated you. “Gonna cum- fuck” He thrusted a couple more times, causing you to cum once again with a cry of his name. He quickly pulled out and stroked his cock, warm white ropes landed on your stomach. You both heaved for air before Ben leaned forward to sloppily kiss you.

After laying there for a minute he spoke up, “That was..wonderful..” You nodded your head in agreement. You both were too spent to take a shower and change the sheets. “I love you” You muttered into his chest. He smiled, “I love you too” he said, planting a kiss to your head.

[mell0wjello]

°𝓐𝓷 𝓐𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓵 𝓓𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓐𝓫𝓸𝓿𝓮°

Just for him ♡

!TAGS! - Suggestive (slight nsfw?) towards the end, adoration turned obsession, and a little bit of body worship. GN! Reader. Please skip if you feel uncomfortable !

~~~~~~~

Idia was over the moon. Ever since the first time you came up to him in the halls, you had kicked down the doors to his mind and allowed yourself in. Your face was the subject of daydreams, and your voice echoed in his noise canceling headphones. He couldn’t get enough of your words laced with sweet intoxication.

Your sweet and gentle tone, it was surreal. Idia became convinced you were some kind of divine being sent to him from above.

The first time he invited you over to Ignihyde, he made sure his room was tidy and organized. He even did his laundry the day before so all his clothes would smell clean and fresh. He tried to appear calm and composed in front of you, but this facade completely crumbled as soon as he opened his door. There you were, with a smile that could have melted him right then and there. He felt the tips of his hair turn pink as he watched your silhouette go inside.

Idia was throughly aware of every small gasp you let out, every sigh you produced, and every time your breath would brush against his ears. It was delightful. They uncovered a warmth in him that was greater than any game he had played. Idia knew he was a loser, but who could’ve known that someone like him would be granted with this blessing? He had you to himself, just for a little while. And that was more than enough.

He began inviting you over much more frequently, developing a yearning for more. You had shown him light where there was none, and now he couldn’t get enough. Was it love or adoration? Perhaps it could’ve been both, but the lines between affection and obsession became too blurred.

He needed you. Your plush thighs against his mattress. Your delicate hand intertwined with his rough and callused one, as the other wandered to trace your figure. The way your lips parted ever so slightly as you shivered under his touch. Oh, how gentle he was. He was never too rough as to sully your pristine body. With his hand, Idia traced his fingers over your jaw, placing a kiss in its wake. He moved on to the crook of your neck and your collarbone, making sure that his mouth would also keep up the pace.

From time to time, he looked up at your face, just to see your gorgeous face as it reacted to his touch. It lit a fire in him that could not be put out until it had devoured everything in its wake.

Idia continued his descent down your body, making sure that every spot was acknowledged. All the while, praising you and making sure you are aware of how much he appreciates you. His eyes, lost in a trance. The taste of your skin was sweet, leaving him to crave more. As he continued beyond your hips, the air changed about him. There was a thick feeling in the air, a scent that turned his affection more desperate, and yet never losing the gentleness of his handling. He made sure his touch was light, leaving his lips to relish in the tenderness of your flesh.

All the way down, Idia finished his last kiss on the tip of your foot. He looked at you, all flushed and breathless on his bed. The corner of his mouth creased into a smile. He moved a stray strand away from you to look at your expression. He cupped your cheek to feel the warmth he had induced. Idia was over the moon. He couldn’t believe that the heavens would open before him and grant him such a beautiful and benevolent angel. An Angel just for him, and him alone.

~~~~~~~

[spicybunni]

Love Bites

I’ve had this lingering headcanon that all the Lords in RE:VILLGE need blood to appease the cadou inside them?

Summary: Some headcanons/descriptions of how the Lords in RE Village bite you for the first time/ how they use you for your blood 🩸

WARNINGS ⚠️ blood, injury to reader, biting , rough handling, violence to reader, yandere tendencies

DONNA BENEVIENTO

🪡 - Yandere vibes with this one and you can’t convince me otherwise.

🪡- You were visiting the estate to give Donna some fabric she had requested from the village. You were one of the estate’s gardeners so going to the mansion was no big deal, besides getting a glimpse of Lord Beneviento from time to time.

🪡- She had to have some excuse for you to come into her manor alone. For some time she has been observing you from all windows of the estate and concluded she needed to have you, taste you, lock you away…

🪡 - She would trap you in once you placed the fabric on the table inside. You would panic at the sight of the doors slamming on their own, being in a dark and creepy manor such as Benevientos.

🪡- She would sneak around you in silence once she has you trapped. The dolls would move on their own in excitement and anticipation like their master. The whole atmosphere is making you panic with paranoia.

🪡 - Appearing in front of your vision suddenly with her arms outstretched to you. She rushes over before you could react. Suddenly being embraced by Lord Beneviento makes you stay still with shock, not knowing how to respond. You realize that her usual veil was missing too. You feel her hair tickle the side of your face.

“M-My Lord??…What are yo-“

“Silence.”

🪡- An unknown force would make you go nonverbal before feeling a sting on your neck that gradually gets worse. Donna is very sadistic when it comes to inflicting pain. So your whimpers and groans are music to her ears.

🪡- She would let go with a pop of her lips, licking an excess blood dripping from you. Looking directly at you once she is done. Having the biggest grin on her face, blush on her cheeks, and a little bit of your blood dripping from her mouth.

🪡 - There’s something so perverted about how she just wants you to herself, to play with and drink from.

🪡 - She will gladly leave you alone in the manor if you refuse to let her drink or give her resistance. Watching as you dodge unimaginable horrors chase you down to your new bedroom where she awaits you.

🪡 - Just holds you after she feeds from you. You would be pretty weak from how much she drinks from you to not oppose her cuddling.

“I can’t let you leave, I won’t let you!”

SALVATORE MOREAU

🐚 - Oh man, this guy is even more awkward than Donna when it comes to interacting with villagers.

🐚 - He would wobble out from his spongey abyss of the docks, and come watch you work on the windmill. You've had your share of encounters with Moreau, but always found it creepy he would watch you for a moment before approaching you.

🐚 - His bloodlust would not overtake him completely, he just had this urge to be around you all the time. He could never romantically love you since he held that spot for Mother Miranda, but he did favor you.

🐚 - One day you managed to injure yourself while hammering nails into wood. The hammer smashing your finger and breaking skin. You cursed to yourself and it seemed to draw Lord Moreau out of hiding to reach you. You jumped at first but calmed down when you realized it was just him. You showed him the little cut in your finger, signifying that you were alright. He offered you a handkerchief from his cloak to clean the blood dripping from your finger.

🐚 - You hiss at the sting of cloth rubbing against it, but it quickly subsides. You were going to toss it later, putting it in your pocket. The Lord blubbers out "W-Wait! Noo..I can take it if you'd like.." He says disappointedly. You raise an eyebrow at his reaction, but he's technically your boss so you return the handkerchief back to him. "I'm sorry it's dirty my lord, are you sure you want it back?"

🐚 - His pupils were dilated, his mouth agape as he watches the liquid is soaked up by the cloth he gave you.

"It's no t-trouble at all, I shall go fetch you some proper bandages..."

As he waddles away, he hides quickly from your view behind a boulder and sniffs the handkerchief and bites into it, trying to wring out any blood.

He would end up almost eating it before wanting to preserve your essence. 🫣

ALCINA DIMITRESCU

🩸- You were one of Alcina’s favorite servants. You knew all the rules like the back of your hand. There was no reason to brag about it though, you have done a lot precautions because you’ve seen what happens when you don’t follow in line. You just kept your head down and avoided her daughters like the plague.

🩸- Alcina does have a preference for man blood that she mixes in her wine. But she loves the taste of a fearful and devoted servant from time to time as well.

🩸- She would summon you randomly to her study, sending a maid to fetch you. The maid would look at you with pity. Nobody usually see's the lady alone unless its the head maid/butler or if you are getting fired. You respond with haste and drop whatever it is that you are doing to go there. Rushing through all servant corridors and arriving out of breath.

🩸- You would be filled with anxiety over what she could possibly want with you. She tells you to come in and to take a seat. You open the doors to your Lady in reading glasses with papers and books organized everywhere. She walks over to you as she closes up what she is doing. Towering over you as she approaches.

🩸- Much like a predator to a prey, she would circle around you as she makes small talk. And you make small replies back. She would make comments of how you are such a good servant to the Dimitrescu castle, making you turn red at the praise.

Stopping behind you, she leans down to whisper to you. Making you shake where you stand.

"-but you know Y/N, your most delicious quality is.. your obedience."

🩸- She would grab you from behind and drag you to the loveseat nearby, making you sit in her lap with your back against her chest. She uses one hand to raise your left arm up to her lips, the other is wrapped under your right arm and gripping your head in place. Your screams and cries of protest were not heard by her as she sunk her fangs into your forearm. The pain was awful, it makes your hand cramp and muscles sore from straining in one position.

🩸- If you kept freaking out as she drank from you, she would use the hand gripping your face to cover your mouth instead. Such a dreadful noise.

🩸- She wouldn't drink enough from you to make you faint, but you are most certainly weak and not in any shape to make a quick escape.

🩸- Shifting your position in her lap, she would move to carry you to her chambers for the night. All you see illuminating through the dark halls of the castle were those terrifyingly golden eyes of hers, peering down at you in her arms.

🩸- Would only approach you for your blood after the first bite, even if it meant stealing you away in front of everyone.

🩸- Will throw you against the wall if you refuse to give blood.

🩸 - Your neck and arms would be littered with dark lipstick and bite marks.

"Consider it a promotion, Y/N. You are now my new favorite drink."

KARL HEISENBERG

⚙️- This man is half lycan, of course he consumes blood.

⚙️ - He tries to reserve himself from drinking blood for as long as he can. To him it’s what separates him from his other monstrous siblings. He does get a vial from another Miranda every now and then, scolding him that he needs to take better care of himself.

⚙️ - His eyes would be blood shot and constantly have headaches when he craves blood. He’s more irritated and is easily pissed off. Making him take out a lot of rage onto his machines.

⚙️ - If it’s that time of the month for him when he transforms and joins the Lycan pack for a hunt, then there’s no controlling his blood lust.

⚙️- Meaning if you were to pass by in his factory, covered in sweat and body hot from working near the factory fires, he would pounce you immediately. Or if you were to approach him asking “Lord Heisenberg…are you alright?” He would grab you by the hand and hold you from behind, biting into your neck.

⚙️ - His bites are the worst, they are so painful it would make you well up with tears and hyperventilating after your initial scream of agony.

⚙️ - With his intense bloodlust he would most likely drink you dry, or be very close to killing you, making you go limp in his hold either way.

⚙️- If you woke up, it would be in an office/bedroom in his factory. Your neck would be bandaged and sore. You go to touch it but your hand is restrained by a cuff to the bed post.

⚙️ - He realizes its a better solution to his lycan transformation, just having a person for his own feeding so he doesn’t harm the village. At least that’s less of a bother Miranda which means she leaves him alone. Problem solved! But not for you. He would limit your exploring to only one side of factory, isolating you from the rest of your old coworkers who wondered what happened to you.

⚙️ - Will not hesitate to drink from you in his Lycan form as a punishment for refusing him. Which is way worse than dealing with his “human” form.

⚙️ - Is not great with wound aftercare besides bandaging your bite marks. He just treats you like a meal and would leave until he gets hungry again. Doesn’t bother talking with you unless it’s to give you an order.

“Normally I would have let you go, but I never thought a villager would be so tasty. So now you must stay. Or face becoming one with my factory Y/N!”

MOTHER MIRANDA

🕷️ - You just really have no choice when it comes to the villager leader. You are to do as ordered without question or face her wrath like everyone else.

🕷️ - Her interest in you only went so far as seeing how devoted you were to her. You would always offer yourself as a volunteer to help her or do small favors for Mother Miranda. Were you a good person? Maybe. Were you actually just trying to get in her good graces? Yes.

🕷️ - Miranda didn’t usually partake in consumption of blood. She left that sort of activity to her children mostly. From time to time however she would taste the samples in her lab of villagers who passed or failed her experiments for the Cadou. She would feel her body react positively to the small drink.

🕷️ - Recently she was feeling weak and exhausted every time she used her powers. Drained of all energy at the stupid meetings with her children regarding this pitiful village. She thought that she could try you out, and if you died in the process? Well, she could consume another.

🕷️ - The cruel thing is that she knew you wouldn’t refuse her request. You would do anything to be helpful or if use to her right? So just be silent and still.

🕷️ - “You want to help me don’t you, Y/N?” She asks with a malicious tone in her voice.

🕷️ - She would be up close to your face, her glowing golden eyes piercing into yours as she holds your face in her hands. She would slowly guide her hand behind your back, arching you and supporting your weight. Moving your face to one side, she would lean down and bite.

🕷️ - There is only a little pain from the puncture, but the sting of her sucking you blood out makes you yelp and twitch in her arms. You thought this would be over quickly but her lips have yet to leave you.

🕷️ - Once she has a taste it was difficult for her to stop. Her black wings come out and flutter as she drinks from you. In your vision, all you see is her blond hair and wings extending out before you fall into a slight blood loss slumber.

🕷️ - After the first taste, she did not want to let you go. You would tell the whole village how she abused your devotion just to take from you. As she locked up Mia in a isolated cell she would do the same to you. Except you were given more than Mia was. A bed and table with books. Your basic needs were met but your life was changed forever. Becoming only a blood pack for Mother Miranda to feed off of when she was feeling low. If you dared to give her any trouble in feeding from you she would discipline you until you understood your place, restraining you with black tree roots and muffling your cries with her hand as she would have her fill of you.

[silvercap]

🎲 for the kiss roulette.

Nivannedy and #11 (a kiss to the neck)!

From this ask game :)

The laundry machine beeps as Piers presses the button to start the cycle, sighing into the late Sunday afternoon routine of chores. The back door opens at the same time he turns the room's light off, a few steps down the hallway revealing a sweaty Leon stepping inside in just his shorts and yard shoes, grass clippings and dirt on his skin from the lawnmower. He grins as Piers walks towards him, gesturing to the grime caked to his shins.

"You look like you need a shower," Piers says, eyeing the glistening curve of muscles and tendons where they meet his sharp collarbones. A shiver runs through him, Leon's damp hair from when he must've poured water on his head hanging attractively over one intelligent blue eye. He can't help himself. "I think I could use one, too."

Leon smirks, nipping playfully at Piers bottom lip when he leans in for a kiss. "Nah, you look pretty clean to me," he says mildly against Piers' mouth, to which Piers presses closer and places his hands on the cut of Leon's waist, shifting to press a kiss to Leon's jaw. The tang of salt meets his tongue, but he doesn't stop, following the column of Leon's throat downward to suck a mark into the side of his neck. His body is hot against Piers', humid, and Piers can already feel himself hardening. Jesus Christ, the things this man does to him.

"I'm all gross," Leon laughs, said filthy hands digging into the back of Piers' shirt as he grinds their hips together, "I probably smell terrible."

"Then we'd better take those disgusting clothes off," Piers murmurs, mouthing at the collarbones he'd just been eyeing up.

"I think I could manage that."

[shrike-fic]

inexperienced reader x 'i secretly play the flute thinking about you (respectfully)' hozier?

Sorry this took so long yall, I’m constantly busy with…….. interesting stuff. Hope you enjoy :)

⭐️ Hozier zerkin it ⭐️

Warnings: smut pure smut

—————————————————

Andrew got home late into the night after one of your bar excursions. His head was swirling with cheap beer and whiskey laced memories of just a few hours ago, going over what happened as to maybe have some sort of recollection of any of it in the morning. Thoughts of you dancing together, taking shots together, laughing together plagued him as he swayed through the house.

Briefly grinning to himself at this secret admiration for you, he’s taking his coat off and practically ripping his shoes off after he gets into his room. As much as he’d love to pass out on his worn in bed right then and there, he figures it’d be unhygienic to sleep in his bed with clothes that he’d been in all day. In his hazy mind, he stands up with a groan, grabs his shower towel and starts walking towards the house’s bathroom.

As Andrew prepares his shower and strips down, he can’t help but think of some things that you.. drunkenly confessed to him. You confided to him about some things that you may or may not (definitely have not) done. He was shocked of course, how could a girl like you not have men practically falling at your feet? Lighthearted teasing ensued between the two of you concerning who had done what and where and when, but he just couldn’t wrap his head around what you said.

He steps in, his feet hitting the cool tile, and his hand having a matching feeling pressed to his palm as he uses the wall to steady himself. Turning on the water, he melts into the much needed steady warm stream that was pouring over him.

God, how nice it would be if you were in there with him.

He knits his brows at the thought of that, face turning pink with nobody but the droplets on his skin and the shower head to witness it. He feels slightly guilty from this, with you being his closest friend thinking of you in this way seemed wrong. But some part of him knew that deep down thats what he really wanted. Desperately wanted. His head wasn’t getting any clearer the longer he spent in the shower, which made him feel dirty no matter how well he cleaned the whole of himself.

The longer he stayed in that shower, the longer that heat grew between his legs. He knew he was half-hard by now, his dick practically begging to be touched. He harshly sighed out, almost a scoff, and quickly turned the water to cold to maybe sober him up and get rid of some of these dirty thoughts. What was he, a teenager?

With his hair being scruffed up in a towel, and some boxers haphazardly thrown on, he made his way back into his room where he so desperately wanted to collapse in. He fell back into his bed, letting his legs kick up a bit at that motion. After laying there with his legs hanging off the bed, he decides to swing them up and under the covers where the rest of him follows. He rubs his face with both of his hands, knowing deep down how utterly screwed he is. You had just confessed a deeply personal secret to him, and he’s being plagued with all the things that he’d love to do to you.

Heaven knows the splash of cold water on himself didn’t work. It hardly sobered him up, but it did nothing to keep those deliciously hedonistic thoughts out of his head. So there he was, knees slightly bent with his stomach clenched and his hand working his stiff and leaking cock up and down. His head was tossed to the side of his pillow, thrown back with his knitted brows framing his strained face, and his clean pair of boxers somewhere in his messed up sheets.

His lips were parted, with wanton groans and quickened breath spilling out of it. Oh how he wished it was your hand instead of his. His breath hitched and let out a desperate noise at the thought of this, quickening his pace, moving his other hand to comb through his hair.

He wondered how your hand would feel. Softer and smaller than his, not as confident in your actions, yet still wanting to help please him the best you could. His thoughts raced from your hands, to your lips, to what you would taste like. How he’d kill to find all of this out; to experience all of you. His mouth falls open deeper, with his desperate noises becoming louder and needier the longer he stroked his leaking cock.

Pre cum was dribbled on his pale lower stomach, his hips slightly bucking into his thoroughly moving hand. Thumb rubbing up against the hot red tip of his cock provided the perfect amount of friction to get him so close to falling off that edge. His back arching and him twitching in his own hands, he could see stars in behind eyes and feel the knot in his stomach snap as he pumped himself those last few times.

One last cry, and Andrew was sloppily bucking his hips into his hand releasing his cum onto his stomach and fingers. He pumped himself through it, nearing to the point of overstimulation— he just couldn’t get enough of you. Finally he released his spent dick from his hand, and laid there with a mess all over himself. After catching his breath for a minute, he reached over to his nightstand and cleaned himself off with a tissue. Cursing himself lightly as to why he would bother to take a shower just to do this to himself directly afterward.

He wasn’t totally free of guilt after finishing to the thought of you, he just didn’t really know how to deal with it. The best solution he could come up with? Sleep it off. Which would be great, but who the hell is calling him at such a late time? He groggily reaches over to the nightstand to pick up his phone ready to grumble at whoever was calling him at an hour like this, only to realize it was your name at the top of his screen.

He answers the phone, feeling a bit more guilty than before.

“Hey.. ehm… are you alright? Why are you calling this late?”

“You were supposed to call me when you got home, I was worried you hadn’t made it or something” You say with a slight scolding voice.

“Ah I’m very sorry, I was.. in the shower.”

He cringes at himself and covers his eyes with his hand.