#And no fingerprints on my fingers anymore

[vabonesyart]

She's all finished!

[isame-allen]

Justice and injustice

[eightstarr]

baby — abby anderson.

summary: you're on patrol with abby and you make her squirt for the first time. you don't mean to make a habit out of distracting her, but in your defense, it's hard to focus on anything else when she looks so pretty all serious and focused on keeping you safe! and you are only so strong!

notes: i don't ever really write smut and it for sure shows but anyway here it is! what no one asked for! yet again! also excuse the surprising amount of feelings that are in this considering it's technically supposed to be porn? it wouldn't be me if someone didn't say i love you at least once tho

୨・┈﹕✦﹕﹕✦﹕┈・୧

"Do you have a danger kink or something?" Abby asks, trying to sound cool, but her breathing's a little too staggered for that. You've got her backed up against a counter in a random kitchen of a lonesome, old house.

You smooth your tongue over her pulse and feel her shudder, your hands sneaking under her loose shirt to cup her waist, fingers squeezing adoringly. "Can't I have some fun with my girl?"

"Yeah, but—" Abby cuts herself off with a moan that's almost embarrassing considering how little you're touching her. "You did this last time, too. It's like you want to get caught."

"Caught by who?" You scoff, lifting your head to look at her, nodding once as a silent way to say up. She abides without thinking, her palms against the counter as she pushes herself up to sit on top of it. You're needy enough that you don't bother teasing, no 'good girl', no 'what would your soldiers think if they saw you be so obedient?'. You slot yourself between her thighs and continue your assault on her neck, fingers brushing over chest. "There's no one here, baby."

Baby is perhaps your biggest tell. You call her baby when she's been away for too long, when you've had a long day and show up at her door unannounced, in the morning when you've woken up from a dream that left you aching that you refuse to share the details of no matter how much she asks. 'Baby' means you're desperate. And 'baby' makes Abby pull you closer, because nothing makes her need you more than you being desperate for her.

She lifts herself up enough to let you pull her cargo pants and boxers off in one motion, and her heart skips a beat as you sink to your knees, guiding her legs over your shoulders. She used to fret about that, fret about a lot of things— but the admittedly ridiculous thought of accidentally squeezing you to death was up there. You'd made the stupid joke, as anyone would, at least I'd die happy. But when that didn't quite work besides earning a roll of her eyes and a slight smirk to her lips, you'd simply gotten back to work on making her cum on your mouth until she had no choice but to close her legs around you. And when she did, the movement mindless and needy, you groaned and left loving fingerprints on her thighs enough to reassure her that you liked it. Loved it. You loved a lot of things that Abby used to be insecure about.

The point is, she shouldn't be shocked to see you get down on your knees. It's not an entirely unfamiliar sight anymore, you've made sure of that. But even on the first time you fucked, with all the eagerness and want and sense of overdue of your affections, Abby doesn't think she saw you quite this ravenous.

It's like you're drunk on it, like you didn't have her in a way not too different from this just a mere two days ago. You eat her like you're fucking starving. Not pulling away to breathe, your nose brushing against her clit just right, moaning every time she bucks her hips or pulls your hair.

When Abby cums, she feels it in her chest. It sinks on top of her, a lovely heaviness, and then drops off of her all together and leaves her weightless. When you don't stop, she breathes out a chuckle that turns into a broken moan and buries her fingers back in your hair, half expecting you to pull away still. But time passes, drags on and speeds away much too fast all at once, and you don't.

She's saying your name, she thinks, or a sound as close to it as her mind will allow her to formulate. Abby knows she's loud by the way her noises are echoing through the empty room, mocking her. Before she can feel embarrassed by it, as if you can read her mind as easily as anything else, you drag your mouth down and fuck into her with your tongue in a way that she didn't know could feel so good before she met you. As quickly as it came, the shame is gone. Her lips part and her sounds grow louder still, spilling out of her carelessly. You want to reward her, you think somewhere in the back of your mind, want her to know how much you love it. It's a privilege to make Abby Anderson a mess, and it always makes you lightheaded with need.

You wrap your mouth around her clit and suck, and Abby lets go of your head for once to grab onto the counter and make a lame attempt to keep herself still, her knuckles white.

The pressure building in her low abdomen is familiar, but then your hand comes to lay flat against the exact spot and something about the weight of it makes the feeling twist into something different.

Abby gasps quick breaths, her eyebrows furrowed in vague confusion and enough pleasure to drown it out and soothe the meaningless pain of bumping her head back against the wall.

"I'm gonna cum," she warns, barely legible. And it's fine, she thinks, it's just like every other time. But then she feels it start to unravel, finally, and it's the same but also not at all. "Fuck, wait, I think— fuck!" she's panting, shaking and forcing her gaze to refocus just to watch the way your eyes fall closed, the way your eyebrows furrow. You moan against her and the sound is loud even while suffocated, even though you've somehow managed to push your face closer to her, press your tongue deeper. Abby feels it gush out of her and it's nothing like anything she's felt before, so good and so much and she doesn't want it to ever end, even as she blabbers, "Oh my God. Oh my fucking God, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

You don't seem to hear her, hungrier than she's ever seen you— you look fucking possessed. You pull back and the sight of you is dizzying, embarrassing, and it's the only thing Abby wants to look at for the rest of her life. Your lips are glistening, yes, but so is your chin, your cheeks, her cum dripping down your neck. Your eyes are dark, more pupils than anything else, and they swallow her whole. You haven't pulled back too far, your breath still hot against her, but it's enough that you can replace your mouth with your fingers and rub on her clit. What's left in her comes out in soft spurtz, dripping onto the floor, and you couldn't tear your eyes away if you tried.

But Abby doesn't know that, doesn't know what you're thinking at all. You're surprised, but is it in a bad way? It must be. Are you disgusted? You're so covered in her that it feels like you'll never be able to wash it off, and Abby can't read your mind like you do hers, so she doesn't know that the thought thrills you, that your heart is fucking pounding in your chest, that your underwear is utterly and completely fucking ruined. You lick your lips and swipe your chin with the back of your hand, absentminded. Abby's thinking, begging, say something.

"Holy fuck," is all you can manage, a quiet mutter, breathless. Your fingers haven't stopped rubbing, but a whine and an especially forceful quiver of her legs makes you blink and you stop like you've just come out of a trance, your hand moving instantly to soothe up and down her thigh.

"I'm sorry," Abby repeats, and then you look at her face like you've just remembered it's there.

Look up at her like she's fucking crazy, like she's grown a second head, mumbling, "What?"

"I didn't— I tried to warn you," she says, even though she doesn't know that she could've. It felt so foreign, she wouldn't have known how to explain it, really.

You lower her trembling thighs from your shoulders carefully, not before pressing a kiss against each one, and then you stand up. Abby wonders if this is where you'll tell her you didn't like that, where you'll help her put her clothes back on and then you'll promise each other to never speak of it again. Instead, your eyes grow impossibly gentle, impossibly loving, and you tuck yourself closer between her legs. The hem of your jeans brushes against her core and she gasps, but doesn't move away. "Baby," you call softly, pecking her lips. "Has this never happened to you before?"

Abby feels a little like she's suffocating, the breeze coming in through the window you'd opened when you first came in not enough to soothe her anymore. But you brush your knuckles over the faint scar on her cheekbone and her shoulders grow limp, her body relaxing except for where she's shaking— fuck, she is still fucking shaking. She remembers your question and shakes her head.

You don't show her how embarrassingly proud that makes you, that you made that happen before anyone else did, because it's not the time. You tuck the feeling in your pocket for later and hum, barely resisting the urge to kiss her, to get back on your knees until they're bruised and make her cum in whatever form she'll give you all over again. "Did it feel good?" You ask, not mocking, but curious.

If she wasn't so embarrassed, Abby would've laughed. It is very possible, and the thought does nothing to ease her shame, that nothing has ever felt so good. But admitting that feels like too much, so instead she whispers, "Yeah."

You smile, happy, genuinely relieved. "Then what are you saying sorry for?" You ask, kissing her again before you can help it. "That's my fucking job. I want you to feel good."

The words alleviate like water to a small fire, and Abby feels silly for having forgotten that it's you who she's with. She's had the thought before, but it suddenly becomes more present than ever, practically breathing down her neck— that she wants to keep you forever. Keep is maybe a bad word for it. She wants to be around you forever, for as long as you'll let her, wants to move into your shitty apartment and make you breakfast and sleep every night in your cropped shirts that fit slightly too tight and make her look ridiculous. She ought to say she loves you more often, she thinks. You say it nearly every time you see her now, like the words have been bubbling inside you for too long and now they can't be kept away. It's a fairly fresh relationship, but the feelings are ancient for both of you, and it shows.

"I love you," Abby sighs, and presses her lips against yours before you can say it back. It's sloppy, she's barely starting to come down from her high, but you don't complain. You kiss her with vigor, like you're trying to spell it out with your tongue, I love you. When you pull apart, her eyes fall from your eyes to your chest and she winces, eyes squeezing shut as her forehead falls on your shoulder.

"What?" You ask, a hand coming to cradle the back of her head immediately, without thought.

"Your shirt," she mumbles against you. You glance down and let out a soft oh. The white fabric of your tank top is soaked, mostly near the neckline, sticking to your skin. You hadn't noticed. Abby lifts her head to look at you, freckled face flushed red, so pretty that you forget about the mess she made of you all over again. "You have to change. We can't go back with you looking like that," she says— or begs, more like.

"I didn't bring anything else with me," you tell her, humming appreciatively as you look back down at your chest, grinning. "Besides, this is my favorite shirt now."

Abby groans, the kind of whiney, timid sound that you could've never imagined her making before you become her girlfriend. The kind of sound that makes you weak in the fucking knees, needy and cotton-mouthed. "It's not funny," she hides her face in her hands and huffs, "'S embarrassing."

You're chuckling, but biting into your lip to stifle it when she lowers her head further down, chin against her chest. With careful touch, you wrap your fingers around her wrists and guide her hands away from her face, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Her skin is hot beneath your lips, and you hum at the feeling of it. She's usually so cold, your Abby, freezing fingers sneaking under your shirt at night and making you shudder. It's a pleasure to make her warm, an honor to see her shy. You love her so much it tugs at you, a constant reminder.

"You're a dream, Abby. Fucking perfect," you say, as clearly as you can while dragging your lips down her neck. She's the hottest thing you've ever laid eyes on, so beautiful that sometimes you can't sleep, too excited that she's there next to you to ever close your eyes. And you need her to know, but you're not really one with words, so all that comes out is, "Nearly made me cum in my fucking pants, you know that?"

Abby moans. Her breath gets caught in her throat as you suck marks into her neck and she finds that she couldn't care less right now, about the evidence that'll be left on her skin or your stupid wet shirt. She guides your face up with a hand on the back of your neck, and kisses her flavor off your lips until she can't anymore, until her lungs burn and her lips tingle. Your voice echoes in her head. Nearly made me cum in my fucking pants. Nearly, she thinks. That doesn't sound very fair.

Thick fingers make quick work of your zipper, trailing over your lower tummy and sneaking under your underwear. She's a little fast, but you've never minded. Sometimes she'll notice and force herself to slow down, to savor, but most of the time her mind doesn't let her catch up to it. Like now. She can't worry about looking clumsy or overly-enthusiastic, because she just needs to feel you. Because she wants to check that you weren't lying, that she could've made you cum without ever touching you— and it's there, the overwhelming fucking truth of it soaking her hand. You gasp at the contact, and Abby's thighs squeeze you in place, as if you'd ever leave. "Jesus Christ," she pants. She finds herself saying it a lot lately. Jesus Christ. Oh my fucking God. Calling upon figures she doesn't believe in, delusional enough to think for a second that they'll bring some kind of comfort, release her of her sins.

You're so wet that it doesn't take more than a minute for her confidence to slowly grow back, so wet that it doesn't take more than two to make you cum. It's the fastest she's ever seen you fall apart, and it wouldn't be Abby if her immediate thought (right after that was so fucking hot) wasn't bet I can make it quicker. Her ego fizzles in her chest, warm and euphoric. Abby thinks she doesn't remember the last time she felt as proud about something as she does every time she makes you feel good. Isaac's occasional pat on her shoulder and mutter of 'good job' is laughable in comparison, as is the high of working herself till she's covered head to toe in sweat at the gym, as is everything else.

It might be the honeymoon phase the movies talk about. You slowly catch your breath and raise your head from her shoulder to look at her with the same adoration as you did when she kissed you for the first time, and Abby has a hard time believing that the feeling will ever go away. Movies get a lot of things wrong, anyway.

She's walking slower than usual on your way back home, her steps sluggish, and you're sweet enough to only make fun of her for it a little bit. One comment here and there, earning a scoff when you lean closer and offer to carry her bride style, a badly stifled laugh when you hum thoughtfully and wonder out loud about what Owen must be doing right now.

Her fingers are interlaced with yours and normally she would've let go by now, a little sheepish to show that much vulnerability in front of the people who are supposed to respect her, but the thought doesn't even cross her mind. You crack another stupid joke and she giggles like she did when she was a kid, silly and sweet, tugging your hand to her lips to kiss the back of it.

Manny looks you up and down as soon as you cross the gates, dark eyebrows raised. "The fuck happened to you?" He asks. You look at him with a confused frown and wait for him to clarify, "You're wet."

Abby's stiff as a board where she stands next to you, her quick blinking the only evidence that she hasn't actually been frozen in place by some kind of magic spell.

You're much more casual. "It's fucking hot. I poured some water on myself to cool off."

Manny hums. He's seen you do it before, maybe that's why he doesn't question it. He does note, though, the suspicious way in which Abby walks silently and swiftly past him with her eyes pointedly on the floor. Her hand is tight around yours still, and you follow because— well, of course you do.

[youryanderedaddy]

tw: female reader, emotional abuse, conditioning, hinted loss of voice, objectification, degradation, Adam is his own warning

Today you had to scream. You don't even remember why, perhaps you saw a bug or a spider, something trivial and meaningless, something that shouldn't have been terrifying, not to you - not after everything you've been through.

Yet you have to scream - it is but a physical reaction. And then... nothing. Nothing comes out. Absolutely no sound. Not a murmer, not even a gasp. You feel his hands wrap around you from behind - at first you think that he has covered your mouth, that he has forced his fingers deep inside your throat just like he has done so many times in the past. But no, he's simply hugging you - resting his head against your shoulder.

"Ssh, baby, it's fine. I'll take care of it." Adam whispers before his fist comes crashing down onto the poor little insect, splashing the black - green insides all over the table. You almost felt bad for your initial panic - by now you should know that to him the only answer is violence, always. You have single - handedly brought this fate onto the innocent unsuspecting animal, and all because of your stupid fear.

And even with the guilt, you still want to scream - but this time out of pity. Regret. Out of bitter realization.

"Aww, darling, don't cry." Your captor coos gently, caressing your hair. For a second you can see his long fingers flash before your eyes before they rub your sticky tears into your skin. It's weirdly invasive - you feel naked despite the layers upon layers of clothes you have on. "You know what happens when you cry-" He suddenly grips your chin, squeezing it roughly, but that's hardly a surprise. He loves to see his own fingerprints on your skin. "Don't you?"

You nod. You wish you wouldn't have to. You wish you were still the same naive girl you were a few months ago - a few moments ago, when you could still pretend you didn't understand what was happening. What he was trying to do to you, to your body, little by little; one step at a time.

"Of course you know. My clever girl." His grip softens, but never wavers, and he kisses your hair with feverish content. "You know crying leads to whimpers, and whimpers lead to-" The man smirks in that nasty perverse way you've grown to despise, reaching to fix the bulge in his trousers. "Well, aside from getting my cock fuckin' hard, they sometimes make your throat tighten. It tightens so much you think you're going to choke." His eyes return to you, black like the winter sky. "Isn't that right, baby?"

You're forced to nod again, a fresh new wave of warm tears soaking your collar as you try to ignore the very feeling he's describing to you.

"And then you need to make it unclench, so you speak - well, attempt to." Adam runs a single cold digit across the length of your neck, stopping only to poke at the dent in the middle of your collarbone. "And we both know that's a big no - no, right, baby?" He kisses your neck, a contrast to the cruel, humiliating condescension in his deep, guttural voice. It makes your stomach turn, but you can't do anything. You can't sob. You can't even shout for help - not anymore. "No, no, no." He continues, explaining it as if you're just a silly child. "Worthless little sluts who break their owners' hearts don't get to use big adult words. They remain silent, to be seen and not heard."

He keeps touching you - that's the worst part. He keeps kissing you, embracing you, holding you close just like a lover would. It makes you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. It makes you want to cling onto the only creature close to you, even if it's just a monster wearing a human mask - a monster set to hurt you with everything it possesses. A monster, set to build you up every time it breaks you down.

"This little mouth of yours has only one use now - to keep my dick nice and warm." Adam mumbles, keeping you in place once it all gets too much. You struggle against him until you tire yourself out. You're dizzy. You're starving. You haven't slept in days - so realistically you don't stand a chance. But fighting means life. Fighting means you might have lost your voice, but you haven't lost your will. Your humanity. "So go ahead, doll. Entertain me. Scream for me."

And for once you want to obey him - you want to scream from deep within your lungs, so you open your mouth, and then you close it, pretending that your voice could break the fragile glass and reach someone somewhere who cares.

The silence is deafening.

[jflemings]

— big sister duties

pairing: kyra cooney-cross x reader

synopsis: harper is the best wingwoman

warnings: i’m iffy on this but fuck it we ball

୧ ‧₊˚ 🌈⋅ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

you sat attentively with a handful of children at a blue plastic table, paints and messy fingers surrounding you. you had been in charge of the finger painting portion of the rotating activities for the past hour and it was safe to say you were having a great time.

you smiled at the giggles coming from two of the children that sat across from you as they painted their names with pink, green and yellow paint. to your left sat little harper gorry, her blonde hair in a braid that had slowly gotten messier through the day. you tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and look at how she’s going writing her name.

your eyes widen in shock at the sight of her first name painted in orange on the page “harper! that’s so good” you praise

she gives you a small smile “kyra help me learn” she says, still focused as she begins to paint the ‘g’ in her surname “we did it on the weekend”

your curiosity perks at the name you don’t recognise. you knew katrina and clara well, having seen them time and time again when they’d drop off and pick up harper but you can’t ever recall hearing of a kyra.

“who’s kyra?” you ask, dipping your finger in some red paint

“my big sister” harper answers easily, completing the letter ‘o’ with a smile.

you quirk a brow. you weren’t aware that katrina had two daughters since she hadn’t mentioned it before, but you suppose there was no real reason for her to if her other little girl was primary school aged.

you dip another finger in some white paint “she sounds like a very good big sister”

“she is!” harper exclaims, looking to you “she does my hair and gives me piggy back rides whenever i don’t wanna walk anymore” the young girl tilts her head as she talks, admiring her work whilst she tells you about her older sister.

smiling, you wipe your pointer finger off and dip it in a small pot of green paint “that’s what good big sisters do”

harper sends you an affirmative nod as she paints the last three letters of her name, earning a small cheer and high five from you when she holds her paper up proudly. you quickly snap a quick photo for the weekly kindy newsletter before ensuring that harper and the other kids all have clean hands as you send them off to their next activity.

a week later you’re doing drop off greetings when harper runs in, her little raincoat dripping on the floor as she tries to shrug it off. you smile and help her unbutton it, handing it up on her coatrack when a disheveled looking woman pushes open the door.

she looks to be around your age, her hair is pulled back into a high messy bun and she’s dusting the rain off of her freckled cheeks “harper you can’t run ahead like that” her australian accent is prominent and she zips open harper’s butterfly backpack, pulling out a piece of paper.

she seemingly notices you standing there and pauses to just stare at you before offering her hand “hi, i’m kyra”

kyra. as in harper’s kyra. as in the kyra you had been thinking was a pre-pubescent girl for the past week.

since that day fingerprinting kyra had come up more and more with harper telling you different stories about things her and harper got up to together. not once did she mention that kyra was an adult and not a kid.

“y/n” you say, shaking her hand “harper’s talked about you a few times”

kyra chuckles whilst putting harper’s backpack down “she’s talked about you too. speaks very highly of your fingerpainting abilities”

“kyra!” harper exclaims whilst holding out a hand expectantly “painting please”

she hands the roller up piece of paper over before taking out her waterbottle and hanging up her bag on the hanger. harper unrolls the paper and shows you proudly, a wide smile on her little face “look miss y/n!” she says to gain your attention “this is you, and this is me, and this is kyra” she points to each painted person “kyra’s wearing red ‘cause she plays for ars’nal”

you raise your eyebrows “that’s very good harper! do you want to put it in your bag for safe keeping?”

harper shakes her head “no, you keep it”

“don’t you want to keep it at home so kyra can see it too?”

“kyra doesn’t need a painting she sees me all the time” she says as she shoves the paper into your hands “mama says sometimes too much”

you can see kyra roll her eyes in your peripheral before harper runs off to the other kids, plopping herself down onto the floor to play with another little girl named sarah.

“mini said there’s a sheet i have to sign?”

“mini?” you question

“katrina” the australian clarifies “we call her mini cause y’know” she waves her hand at about katrina’s height whilst giving you a small smile.

you nod and grab the clipboard from the admin desk nest to you “right” you laugh, handing kyra the papers.

“just harper’s name, your name and number and then your signature”

she fills the form out easily and hands it back to you before tugging on the front of her coat “min– katrina, and clara have some busy mornings coming up with getting ready for the new baby and everything so i’ll be dropping harper off a few times” kyra explains easily.

“okay i’ll let our admin staff know”

you send her off with a smile and a small wave, blushing slightly when you se ever look back at you through the door before walking off.

over the next month you become very aquatinted with kyra. you learn that she does in fact play for arsenal and the australian national team, that she sneaks chocolate into harper’s lunch and that she cannot parallel park for the life of her.

one morning she’d run in late with harper on her back, dressed in her full arsenal training kit and shooting you an apologetic look when you mention the way she’d thrown her car in park. she’d blushed and hastily signed harper in before kissing the top of her head and running out the door with a wave.

“kyra thinks you’re very pretty” harper had said whilst watching her get into her car “do you think kyra’s very pretty?”

harper’s big brown eyes had stared up you innocently as she awaited your answer. you had made the fruitless attempt to fight off the blush dusting your cheeks, trying to hide your surprised expression from the young girl “yes i do think kyra is very pretty”

she giggles and pats the side of your leg before running off to find her friends to play with. you don’t have time to dwell on harper’s strange reaction before another mother and her little boy named ethan walks in. he loudly recalls his weekend to you, boasting about getting to watch chelsea play whilst taking off his coat and following you into the classroom with kyra on your mind.

you aren’t doing drop off greetings the morning harper comes barrelling through the door with kyra not far behind. you can hear a quiet commotion in the hall, kyra seemingly protesting whatever harper is doing.

“harper” she hisses “stop it”

harper stomps her foot “do it now! do it now!”

your back is turned to them as you set up a cut and paste activity for the morning, the pair’s voices getting closer. your move around the table to ensure you’ve got the right amount of everything for each kid you’re expecting when you’re interrupted by some knocking on the wall.

you look up to see harper beaming whilst gripping kyra’s hand for dear life, the latter giving you a tight lipped smile as her cheeks go pink. you check your watch and glance back to the pair curiously. they’re earlier then usual and kyra is once again dressed in her arsenal training kit with harper’s backpack slung over her shoulder.

“hi guys! bit early today, aren’t we?” you greet whilst smiling “is something the matter?”

“kyra has something to ask you!” harper almost yells, dragging kyra in front of her and then giving her a shove before going back towards the bag rack.

she’s like a deer in headlights. her brown eyes are blown out wide and one hand is frozen on harper’s bag strap. she purses her lips and looks behind her, seemingly looking for harper, before sneering and turning her attention back to you.

“you okay kyra?” you ask mildly concerned. she’s shifting her weight from one foot to the other and is looking anywhere but you, seemingly interested in the animal abc’s hanging on the wall.

“yeah, yeah i’m good! just uhh” she draws out “just waiting”

you smile and your brows crease “waiting for what?”

“for harper to stop being nosy” she jerks a thumb over her shoulder and harper’s little face pops out from behind the door frame

you kiss your teeth “harper go see miss ella at the desk, she’s got a surprise for you”

“okay!” harper says as she scurries off, leaving you and kyra alone.

kyra releases a breath and turns back to you “thanks”

the smile remains on your face as you move from desk to desk, your curiosity growing as kyra steps further into the room “what are you doing this saturday?” she asks nervously, fiddling with the ring on her right middle finger.

you stand and turn towards her, the multi coloured construction paper crinkling in your hold. you bite your lip in an attempt to suppress a smile “nothing, why?”

“i was wondering if maybe you’d like to get lunch with me? i’ve got training in the morning but uhm, i’m free after that. if it works for you”

your hands drop in front of you “i’d love to”

“okay! great! i do have to go but i’ll be picking harper up this afternoon”

“doing the double shift today? that’s new” you joke with her, walking past her to put the left over paper away.

kyra shifts on her feet again “i wasn’t sure i was going to ask you this morning so i told mini i’d do drop off and pick up”

you can’t help but smile at kyra’s planning, finding it endearing that she was so nervous to ask you out. you check your watch out of habit and your eyes widen before leaning over and taking harper’s bag off the footballer “you’re going to be late”

kyra’s eyes also widen and she hustles out the door, patting harper on the head “harps i’ll see you later, please eat your sandwich” she says, her eyes pleading as she looks at the mischievous little girl standing behind your legs “i’ll see you later, too” she says lowly, a blush present on her face.

you nod and wave her off shyly, blushing when she looks back again like she did that first time. you hang harper’s backpack up on the rack and grab out her lunch to put in the fridge.

“kyra wouldn’ stop talking ‘bout you! you don’t even understand” harper says dramatically, still gazing out the glass door before turning to you “miss y/n are you and kyra girlfriends now”

your eyes widen as you direct harper back to the classroom, waving off ella at the admin desk as you go “no harper we aren’t girlfriends”

“what a shame” she says as she sits down at the dollhouse in the corner “maybe if you were kyra would stop talking ‘bout you”

“harper!”

[yanderenightmare]

BNHA ! THIRST

Midoriya Izuku "Deku" x darling

synopsis: soft and gentle noncon

TW: NSFW, yandere, dubcon/noncon, light bondage, massive size difference, chubby cock doesn't fit

There’s nowhere to hide from him – not lately, at least – as he’s grown tired of playing hide and seek with you to the point of keeping you locked in your room, kept in your place by a ball and chain with a fuzzy cuff around your ankle – given just enough leeway to allow you to use the conjoined bathroom when you need it.

Mostly you just lay on the bed – counting the hours, falling in and out of sleep – disgusted with how you’re practically just waiting for him to come home only to be his little stress ball. And when he does, he’s already laying his heavy body over yours with massive bruise-knuckled hands rubbing your every curve with a strength that’s always just a bit too needy. 

Pent-up and worn-out after work, he’s too horny to be denied what he’s been thinking about all day. Sagging his much larger shape against yours where you lie like a little mouse caught in a mouse trap – only dressed in flimsy little undergarments – your naked skin feels so good as he drapes you in big beefy arms, tugging you close while molding his crotch against your ass. 

“I’ve missed you, Baby~” He groans tiredly, nuzzling his scruffy chin into the nook of your neck along with a list of wet kisses – his face still smeared in grime and smog he sloppily hadn’t the will to wash off before stumbling home. 

Lately, he looks to have run himself into the ground – torn and frayed at the edges and just barely hanging on by a thin thread. Nomming on you lazily with lips and tongue – his tattered and dirty hero suit is left in a heap on the floor so his battered sweaty body, naked muscles with scars and fresh wounds, can comfort itself tight against you without a layer separating you from him.

“You feel me, hm- Baby? This is what you do to me….” He rumbles, voice rusty and weary – spooning you with hips scooping against your rear, fitting the big bump in his boxers into the firm plushness of your soft and welcoming butt. 

Granting himself some sweet relief with worn hands kept locked tight around you – hugging you close. One working your flimsy bralette off your shoulders before copping your tit, wantonly squeezing into the fat with another heavy groan against your neck as his thick fingers twiddle your nipple until you whine and push back against him – his other hand snakes over the soft flesh of your tummy and belly button, in between your thighs to touch the even softer thing kept there.

“Spread your legs for me, Baby~”

He doesn’t really let you listen – doesn’t give you any choice but to obey with how his blackwhip wraps around the swell of your thighs – lifting it for you with ease and spreading you wide for him before you’re even able to whine out a single little protest to stop it.

“Be my good girl~ Let me feel~”

He props himself up enough to bend over your shoulder – tongue laving at your cheek with lips placing dull but heavy kisses to the corner of your mouth as he moans out sweet and needy nothings. 

His hot fat hand gropes the sweet little thing over the thin lace of your panties, warming you up before leisurely scooping it to the side – making way for his burly middle digit to split your pretty pussy-lips apart so he can rub over your clit with the cruel gritty fissures of his fingerprint.

He kneads it tight until you’re wet and swollen – his other hand making sure your titties are all pretty and perky – before it’s too much and not enough for his heavy cock to burden anymore – desperately dry-humping you from behind.

Nipping on your earlobe, his voice gains strength in the shroud of his arousal, becoming something caught between a growl and a whisper. “Can you give Daddy's cock some love- kiss it good luck while I get you wet and ready to take me?” 

And you know better than to think his question is a request for permission rather than a slight warning – as he sits up against the pillows on the backboard, pulling your smaller shape sideways with your head resting sweetly on his lap – your ear against his navel, hearing the hungry echo in his gut. 

Kneeling at a perfect angle – positioned just right for him to still be able to reach over your pretty ass so he can keep fucking your sweet squelching hole on thick fingers until you’re loose enough to soak his eagerly fat shaft.

Meanwhile, he needs your mouth – grabbing your skull, he gathers your hair into a neat ponytail and waits for you to unwrap him from his boxers. 

And though the thought makes you swallow thickly, you’ve been taught better than to deny him – knowing more cruel toys are only a simple hand-reach away, stocked full within the drawer of the bedside table – ready to force you to down on your knees in more uncomfortable ways than simply complying on your own. So, with fear sweetening your movement, you stroke his thighs sweetly and pull him out – welcomed by the thick musk of sweat and something fuller – all in all, something you can taste before even putting it near your mouth.

“Open up, Baby~ come on~” He encourages, curling two digits inside your wet cunt while prodding your tiny butthole with the gravelly pad of his thumb – waiting for you to drop your jaw wide open and swallow him down deep. “Oh~ good girl~” He hisses, letting his head fall back against the pillows as you pocket the bulging beast in your cheek. “Such a hot little mouth~ so sweet for me~”

He starts bouncing your head on him, and you try and keep from gagging – with hands bracing yourself against the hefty muscles of his thighs, trying to keep steady as he burrows down your throat as far as he can reach. 

You’re only ever able to take him halfway – and though frustrated by it, he shows you mercy by allowing you to lick and kiss instead – with one of your hands jerking the shaft and another fondling his heavy ballsack. 

“That’s a good little baby~ Taking all of Daddy’s rough day away~ Kissing it all better for me~”

He lets go of your ponytail once sure you’re not going to fight him, starting to pet your head as you listen and abide by all the rules he’s taught you about how he wants you to use your tongue – suckling on all his thick veins and the mushroomed tip of cockhead, kissing it sweetly with wet lips and a little moan to show your enjoyment.

“Daddy’s been thinking about you every single second since this morning, Baby- about what a sweet little girl you are~ Been wanting to reward this tight pussy with cock and cum all day….” 

He sets you up on his lap shortly after – both thighs lifted and kept spread in each of his hands as you rest your back and head against his chest with a thick layer of spit and precum coating your lips – both of you watching his slicked chubby cock searchingly bob against your cunt and belly – steaming, wet, and visibly excited, with white seeping from its slit in thick beading pearls.

“You ready, Baby- ready to take me inside this sweet little pussy?”

Your toes curl in the air, dreading it with fear – knowing you’re never any ready for his size – though feeling the pressure of his words blowing hot against your ear where he rests his alongside yours – cheek to cheek with his lips brushing the corner of your mouth.

“Come on, Baby~ help Daddy fuck his little girl….” He licks your face and spreads you a little wider, gesturing for you to line his weeping monstrosity up with your drooling hole.

Thinking him cruel to force you into consenting, you listen and obey either way – spreading your pussylips with two shivering fingers whilst grabbing his member with the other, placing the tip perfectly at your entrance – helping him kiss and split through the tightness even as the sting makes you flinch and wince. 

Like before, you can only take him about halfway before cowering – shrinking in on yourself – pussy clenching so hard to keep him and his mass out before it can tear you apart. 

You cry and shake your head. “Puh- please- Izu-ah- wait-” Begging him silly – eyes shutting as you bite your lip, feeling him ignore you – nudging in further with only a pitiful kiss of mercy to spare, placed quick and chastely on your cheek.

“Oh- you can take it- come on, Baby~” He coddles in whispers against the tears dripping down your face. “Just a little more now- just a bit more~”

He lets his blackwhips take over, keeping your thighs raised and spread for him – while his hands get busy – one rubbing your nipple as he continues cooing at you with the other rubbing your clit as he sinks himself deeper and deeper inside your constricting cunt.

“Relax for me, Baby~ be good and let Daddy in~”

And soon he’s got himself bottomed-out to the hilt with his cock making a big beautiful belly bulge on your poor little inside as you squeeze him tight like a vice – exactly how he’s been aching to feel all day – married deep inside you, inch by last inch until he’s inside your very depth.

“There you go, baby~ Feels so good, hmm? All of Daddy inside you? Squeezing me so sweet and tight~”

Your body goes tense and numb – afraid to move – lying lax against his chest, panting out spit-sticky moans as he curls deep against your tummy, making you feel it all the way up to your throat in a choke taking your breath and words away. 

The blackwhips detangle from bruising your thighs as you give in, and he pushes the two of you over on your knees. Laying you down against the mattress – your pretty face riddled with dew and heat – smushed and blubbering against the cool sheets your tiny hands begin fisting as he slides in and out of your narrow hole with both his arms holding your hips steady to receive him.

He smiles, watching your thighs quake and your spine arch each time he presses neat and deeply against your cervix with the promise of stuffing you full and good – still softly cooing at you to lie there and take it well until he’s bred you good like what a sweet little babygirl like you need.

tip-jar: Kofi

[hippolotamus]

Hiiiii Hippo 💕💕💕

Buddie fic title:

If only I knew you had electric fingerprints

-❤️🪐

Hiiii Saturn!!!! So lovely to see you here! You said Buddie. Please know you have my eternal gratitude for forgiving my slip into Diaz Family Feels. 💞🦛

After the debacle of broken salad bowls, 'I think you should go home' and 'This is your mess now', Eddie thought that he and Chris had worked through the biggest tangles of dating in the Diaz household. Introducing Marisol was almost a non-event. Eddie might even go so far as to call it a success.

He will now admit that line of thinking was more than a bit premature and naïve on his part.

Maybe it was his own growth and evolutions in the relationship department that led him to assume Christopher wouldn't face the same issues. And, well, technically he didn't. No, Eddie's son dealt him an entirely new, foreign set of tribulations. A one-eighty of Eddie's nesting instincts where Christopher is leading on five different girls. Five!

Wasn't it just last year they were discussing how much shirt sleeve was acceptable to show? What the hell happened?

And, OK, it's a new world with new methods of communication and apps and how teenagers interact with each other. Eddie likes to think he isn't completely stupid, because he tries to stay informed about current trends that he would honestly rather not know about. But no article or discussion with the school guidance counselor - or Frank - could have prepared him for tonight. No tips, tricks, signs to watch for could have fortified him for the devastating blow of 'We loved her and she left us anyway' and 'I can't remember her voice anymore'.

When Buck emerges from Chris's room, Eddie is still leaning against the wall, crushed under the weight of a thousand emotions and questions, attempting to prevent his heart from spilling past the walls of his chest. To keep it from slipping through the makeshift cage where his fingers press bruises into his skin, just below his collarbone.

Buck squeezes Eddie's shoulder before wordlessly leading them to the kitchen where he pours them both a glass of water and he waits. Waits for Eddie to speak, because it's what they do. They don't press. And maybe they should - more or earlier - but that's another thought for another day. For another version of Eddie that doesn't feel like the ground has been ripped out from underneath him.

"I don't- How am I supposed to-" Eddie blows out a harsh breath, frustrated that he can't form a complete question. That there is no entry in the non-existent Parenting Handbook for how to tackle this scenario.

"Eds," Buck says the nickname so carefully, so gently, like his tongue is shaping it from the most fragile glass. His hand tentatively slides across the tabletop until it's resting on top of Eddie's own. "You don't need to have all the answers or know exactly what to do."

"I know I don't. It's just-" He cuts himself off, huffing out an unamused chuckle. Because he doesn't know.

And, look, Eddie is fully aware that he doesn't have to be one hundred percent in control all the time, but it doesn't make him hate whatever this is any less. This combination of lost and thrown off course; of sad, bitter anger muddled together with desperation. His own eagerness to bargain for a way to make this situation more palatable. A pathetic yearning for the chance to go back. To never enlist and close himself off. To splurge on the digital camera with video recorder so he could capture a truly ludicrous amount of everyday, mundane moments.

How many hours of footage might they have collected? Of simple things like Shannon chopping vegetables or putting on makeup before a night out. Her and Eddie slow dancing in the backyard to music only they could hear. Or her laughing, bright and bold, as she smudged dirt and filth across Eddie's cheek after he showed her how to change the oil in her car. The way he pulled her in with his own grimy hands, pressing their mouths together so he could swallow the sound.

He blinks rapidly to keep tears from falling as he wonders how many instances would have featured her rolling her eyes - exactly the way Christopher does now - and shoving her palm in front of the lens.

But he'll never know because he's stuck with the choices he made. That they made. He can tell their son stories, bring him for graveside visits, and offer small souvenirs of the time Shannon had on earth, but that's all Eddie can do. He can't replicate what it was like to be in her presence. He can't convey how she was soft and gentle and all the things Eddie isn't, while also being sharp and spirited. How she smelled like peonies and summer rain.

Whatever he has to offer is two dimensional. Framed photographs, memories stored in his mind. Some of them also stored in Chris's though Eddie suspects in a completely different way. Hopefully in a way that doesn't taste as much like guilt and regret for things left unfinished and words left unsaid. Words like-

Dear Christopher.

He swallows hard around the phantom taste of sea spray from the Pacific Ocean, has the urge to claw at damp, sun-warmed sand that isn't there. And god only knows how his best friend has any idea what's scratching at Eddie's brain, but he does. And Eddie is so, so grateful when Buck rubs his thumb across Eddie's knuckles and asks if he should stay or would Eddie rather it just be him and Chris.

As much as Eddie would like Buck to be present as an extra layer of protection, he knows this is something he has to do himself. Even though, as he walks Buck to the front door, promising to call later, he gets the distinct feeling he won't actually be alone.

In the low lighting currently casting shadows around his bedroom, Eddie's fingers tremble as he reaches for the small safe in the back of his closet. A simple design meant to hold important, precious things. The metal dial is cool under his fingertips, easily manipulated as he rotates it right and left and right again until the door pulls open.

It's been years since he read the words written in Shannon's flowing script, but he knows them like he knows his own name. He traces over her loops and arches, wishing, like always, that he had more time. That he could put off performing this errand for a few more years, decades, lifetimes. Even if he knows it's only for selfish reasons. Because he owes this to Chris and to Shannon. It's on him to follow her instructions and deliver this remaining link between mother and son.

He holds the folded pieces of paper in his hands, feeling something familiar wrap around him that isn’t the usual despair. Something that's more like spun gold flowing between the note and his skin.

Eddie bites back a sob as it dives beneath the surface to wind its way around nerves and spill through blood vessels on its way to his heart. As a calm takes root, anchoring in all four chambers, unfurling and flourishing. As the room, that typically smells like lavender fabric softener and the fancy vanilla linen spray Pepa bought for him, is permeated by the overwhelming scent of Texas nights - filled with crackling humidity wrapped in silvery starlight - and velvety pink peonies.

He squeezes his eyes shut, breathing it in, inhaling deeply to his core like it might allow him to hold onto this moment forever. When at last his lungs protest, forcing him to exhale, his eyes flutter open again.

Eddie closes the door to the safe, hearing it shut with a satisfying click.

"Thank you," he whispers, letting his gaze drift to the letter once more before he walks down the hall to pass it to its rightful owner. His son. Their son. A living, breathing tether between past, present and future.

He knocks on the doorframe, briefly saddened by the sight of Shannon and Christopher’s picture turned face down on the desk. It only makes him more sure he’s doing the right thing.

“Hey, buddy…”

For additional Feels™️ may I recommend

[fanficwritinggirl]

My Montana (Cole Walter Fanfic)

Chapter 1

“Mom,” a desperate, tiny cry of a voice wailed as she sprinted towards the body. Turning her over onto her side she put her frail hands over the now scarlet top, trying to stop the bleeding. But there was no hope of saving her, she had been gone long before she had been able to get there. An adult has approximately 10 pints of blood pumping throughout their body. You never really realize how much blood that is, until it’s pooled on the floor, painting it a dark crimson color. The bloody handprints smeared on the door, creeping closer and closer to the door handle, never quite reaching it besides one lone maroon fingerprint. Dark chocolate waves of hair lay in the pool, covering her cold, white face, hiding the cuts and bruises on her face. “Mom, please wake up,” she cried again, shaking her. Her hands were covered in crimson blood. “Wake up.” 

“Josie!” a voice said loudly in her ear. Startled, her body shoots up, head turning quickly with her eyes wide, tears threatening to fall. “Hey, it's okay, it's just a nightmare, it's okay.” A warm hand sets itself upon her forearm causing her to turn her head and look at the brunette haired woman sitting on her bed, eyebrows pinched together and the corner of her lips pulled down ever so slightly. 

“You're okay Josie, you're not there anymore, he’s not here,” assurance was present in her voice as she ran her hand up and down the panicked girl's arm, offering comfort. Her fingers comed through her hair as she pulled the few parts out of her face and brought it together on one side of her shoulder.

“Same dream?” the brunette woman asked her as she removed her hand from Josie's arm and grabbed the glass of water that was sitting on the white bedside table. Trembling hands take the glass and bring it to her lips taking a sip. 

“It was the blood, it was everywhere. On her, on me. It's just…” she falters. “It was just everywhere Aunt Hat,” she cried, bringing her shaking hands down into her laps cradling the glass between them. 

“I know honey. But we have to remember that it was a long time ago, no one is going to come and hurt you, okay.” All she could do was nod, barely listening to her aunt and keeping herself focused on the glass.

“How long until school starts,” she asked, changing the subject.

“An hour, but I'm going to call Miss Jacobs and ask her if you can spend some time in her room this morning, just until you are ready to go back into class. That's okay?” Josie nods and lifts her head to give her aunt a small smile. Her aunt sighs, offering her the same expression before leaning forward and giving her a kiss on her forehead. 

“I love you Josie.” 

“I love you too Aunt Hat.” 

Tapping on the keyboard was all that could be heard in the room as Miss Jacobs typed her emails and Josie sat on the couch, a book in hand, losing herself in another world. Sitting in Miss Jacob's room was a normal occurance for her, she was in here most mornings of the week after the nightmares happened. Miss Jacobs never forced her to talk about anything she didn't want to. If she just wanted to sit and read a book then Miss Jacobs was happy to give her the space to do that, as long as she caught up with the classes that she missed, which was never a problem.

“Josie, how are you finding your classes at the minute?” Miss Jacobs asks from her desk. Josie lifts her head up and looks at the woman, her eyebrows coming together in the middle.

“Um fine… i think. I mean I am passing everything at the moment. I'm not making A's or anything but I don't think that's a bad thing.” The counselor laughs, shaking her head, standing up and walking towards her and taking a seat in front of her.

“No, I know that. Your grades are great, but are you having a hard time keeping those grades?Have the nightmares been affecting you in this aspect?” Josie leans back in her seat, crossing her arms and pursing her lips a little.

“I mean not really. Sometimes Chem can be a little hard to keep up with but nothing major, usually I can push through by finding some extra time to study,” her voice was filled with certainty and confusion.

“And the nightmares, do they affect any of this?” Miss Jacobs eyes travel around the young girl's face, taking in the bags under her eyes. Josie shrugs.

“Not really. I’m used to them by now. I just have learned to get along with them. That’s all I can do,” her voice was firm. Miss Jacobs gives a small smile and nods.

“Well that's good. Now if you ever have problems with chem just let me know and i can get some help for you.” Josie offers her a polite smile and nod before grabbing her book and returning to her page. Miss Jacobs, seeing that the conversation is over, stands up and returns to her desk continuing with her emails, hoping that one of these days Josie will open up to her.

Three knocks chimed on the door of Miss Jacobs office before opening, revealing the one and only Danny Walter. Danny though was not the most popular Walter boy was still liked around the school and many of the girls still had a crush on him, which Josie could understand. Danny has been her best friend since she moved here when she was nine and since the day that they got put together for a project, they had been attached at the hip, though over the past few years they do spend a little more time apart, she still loved him very much. Many have assumed over the years that the two are more than friends but that couldn't be further from the truth. Danny was her platonic soulmate, he understood her better than anyone and told him practically everything, she loved him, just not like that. He was the brother that she never had. 

“Oh Danny, lovely to see you again. I can guess why you are here,” Miss Jacob teases and Danny laughs. 

“Lovely to see you too Miss. I am here for Miss Whitlock,” he turns and gives her a goofy grin and she snickers. He struts towards her with one hand behind his back, stopping in front of her and extending his hand to her. “Miss Whitlock, would you do the honor of coming with me to lunch,” to say that his posh accent was terrible would be an understatement. Josie puts her book down and shuffles to the edge, straightening her back and posing her face. 

“I do not know, kind sir. For I find that I actually have some much needed work that must be done and must therefore, with greatest regret, must decline your offer,” with that she leans back into the couch and bites down on her tongue to stop herself from laughing. Miss Jacobs sits in the corner watching the entire interaction with a smirk on her face, chuckling while eating her salad. 

“Oh my fair lady, how you have hurt me so,” Danny gets down on his knees and takes her hands in his. “Please dine with me or I shall die of a broken heart,” his hand touches his heart and Josie cannot do anything but laugh. 

“You are ridiculous,” she tells him before grabbing her bag and putting her book in. “Well i am only ridiculous for my bestest friend in the world, which just so happens to be you, Josie Whitlock,” Danny moves back as Josie stands up and turns to Miss Jacobs. 

“What would you say, Miss. Was our performance to your liking,” Miss Jacobs laughs. “I must say it exceeds it. I hope that it shall be a while until I see your next performance so that you have more time to prepare,” Danny’s face drops a little bit, understanding what she's saying but decides to ignore. “Understood Miss. I will make sure that the next time I see you I will give you that most amazing performance of your life,” Miss Jacob nods, shaking her head with a smile. Josie puts her hand on Danny’s shoulder and turns him. 

“Enough with the dramatics. Let's go, now that you are talking about lunch I want some,” Danny smirks at her and waves his hand towards Miss Jacobs as he walks out of the door. 

“Bye Miss Jacobs,” Josie says as they leave. Miss Jacob smiles to herself as she eats her salad, feeling the weight lifted ever so slightly, knowing that at least for now, everything was fine again for Josie. 

“So are you coming over tonight, we are having lasagna for dinner” Danny asks as he and Josie stroll towards the cafeteria. Josie smirks looking at him. 

“Danny, do you even have to ask? There is no point in me heading home because no doubt my aunt and your mom are going to end up on a job till late so what is the point of being home on my own.” Danny shrugs at her. 

“Well I don't know. Maybe you could have some friends over… A guy,” Josie turns and hits him on the arm. 

“Danny Walter, how dare you suggest that I would have a guy over. We all know what happens when others are given the opportunity. Trust me I have had to listen to many of our classmates' hookup stories,” she states as they walk into the cafeteria and walk towards the line. 

“Oh trust me, you do not have to have the house to yourself for people to take liberties about inviting ‘guests’ over for… that,” Danny informs her with slight discomfort which Josie can’t help but laugh at. 

“Let me guess Cole has had a ‘guest’ over recently,” grabbing a tray starts putting food on her tray. 

“Oh no, not for a while actually, which i'm confused about. Maybe he has decided to take a break for a while after Jackie sees Olivia sneaking out. Probably just goes to their house now,” Josie lifts her tray and pinches her eyebrows together and shrugs. 

“I don’t know, maybe. I mean it must be hard for Jackie being in a house full of people, not being able to get much privacy and then having to see someone sneaking out, knowing that they have done that, would be pretty awkward,” Josie trudges towards one of the table with Danny behind her with his own filled tray. 

“Oh yeah. And on top of that after the whole hair thing. Maybe he is feeling bad and deciding to stop being such an ass,” Danny concludes, tucking into his sandwich. Josie’s head falls to one side looking at her food and she plays with it with her fork, she shrugs.

“I mean… I don't know. I think after everything that happened with his leg and not being able to play football… really got to him. Ya know,” Danny nods, placing his sandwich down while finishing chewing. 

“I mean, I know he feels guilty after how much money mom and dad spent on his treatment. Sending him away for the summer just for it to come to nothing but he can’t just use that as an excuse,” Danny's voice was serious and Josie couldn't help but sigh. 

“I know. But maybe he is just a bit lost. Wouldn't you be if the one thing that you were good at was taken away from you. I mean what if you were never able to watch all of your movies, or study plays or whatever,” Josie puts a bit of her chicken in her mouth and looks at Danny as he sighs and leans back in his chair. 

“Fair point. It is just when you are dealing with his mood swings all the time you can forget. And I just don't like the way he treats people sometimes. Especially what he's like with girls,” Josie laughs and nods. 

“Trust me i agree but like you said it seems that maybe he is turning over a new leaf,” Danny raises an eyebrow and nods his head towards her. 

“We’ll see,” he concludes and Josie snickers at him. Nathan walks up to them with a tray in his hand and sits down next to them.

“Hey guys,” he greets as he sits, smiling at the pair. 

“Nathan, to what do we owe the pleasure,” Danny asks sarcastically. 

“Ha ha ha,” Nathan counters, causing Josie to snicker at the pair. “So are you coming over tonight Josie, we are having lasagna,” Nathan asks and Danny rolls his eyes. 

“I have already been asked, and as always I would be honored” Josie smiles at him and Nathan shakes his head with a smile on his face. “I don't know why we even bother asking you anymore,” Nathan states and Josie and Danny look at each other and look at each other with a knowing look. 

“Well if you are coming over tonight can you teach me that one song that you do on the guitar that i like. I have been trying to figure out the chords but i can't get it,” Nathan shoves some food in his mouth and Josie nods her head at him. 

“I would love to, but I am going to have to stop at my house on the way to get my guitar,” she tells them and Danny nods his head. 

“I’ll make sure that Cole stops off,” Danny tells her and she nods back at him. Lifting her head up she sees Cole walking in with his hands in his pockets, hair messily laying on top of his head, covering his forehead. Cole looks over towards her direction and sends a small smirk towards her and Josie can't help turning her attention to the food on her tray, a maroon colour decorating her freckled cheeks. When it came to the Cole effect, to say the least she wasn't immune to it, if anything she was very much impacted by it. 

Authors Note- Read on Wattpad to get a playlist and cast list.

Wattpad - Fanfic_writing_girl

Taglist- @lol6sposts

[randomshyperson]

Helpful Hand - Wanda Maximoff x Reader [Kinktober]

Summary: Having your girlfriend help you with your Halloween makeup can be a lot of fun. For you.

Warnings: (+18), strap warming, edging, heavy teasing, fingering, bottom!Wanda. | Words: 1.248k

A/N-> I didn't organize my posting calendar, what's new. At least we have a few horny hours this Monday.

Kinktober Collection | General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

--//--

"Babe, can you help me with my makeup?"

Wanda jumped in excitement at your question, which made you chuckle slightly. You muttered something about not being sure if you were following the youtube video correctly, and Wanda wasted time locking your cell phone with the assurance that she knew what she was doing.

"Sit here, let's finish this before we're even later than we are." She reminds, but you don't care much about the party time - Tony organized the Halloween event this year, and well, if he showed up, it would be towards the end. You don't think a few minutes would make much difference. 

Wanda stands in front of you, makeup items in hand as she tilts her head slightly as if thinking of the best way to start.

"You look so cute with that crown." You comment and she blushes softly, a smile appearing on her lips. 

"Thank you, dorogoya." She murmurs before starting, but the job is considerably difficult because you keep moving or complimenting her, her eyes, her perfume, her cleavage. Wanda grunts in embarrassment at the latter. "You need to be quiet, Y/N, I've gotten it wrong dozens of times."

"Maybe you're not such a good makeup artist." You tease, and she giggles indignantly, moving away from your face only to put a hand on your shoulder, and push you onto the bed.

"Lie down, and stay still. I need to finish this or we're going to miss the party." She says, and you watch her curiously, but Wanda simply takes the place on your lap the next.

She has a smile playing on her lips but seems focused on her task. 

You feel the brush slide across your cheek, and then you bring your hands up to Wanda's thighs to better adjust to the position in which you have been pushed.

"Stop moving, malysha." She warns in a whisper, and you huff impatiently, but decide to get in her way one last time. You say nothing, just push your hips up and make Wanda gasp in surprise when she feels the hardness.

"I thought about surprising you, but you had to get on top of me, didn't you, little witch?" you tease, getting the impression that Wanda isn't even listening anymore, her eyes threatening to close as she frowns and rubs against the covered strap-on.  When she threatens to let go of the makeup items, you release her hips and grab her wrists. "Go on, we're not going to miss the party, are we?"

"B-but milashka-" She tries but you shake your head, stroking her wrists.

"We've been waiting for the party all year honey, we even bought matching costumes." You remind her, releasing her wrists to lower your hands again. "Our friends are waiting for us too."

Wanda sighs, seeming to convince herself. With trembling fingers, she opens the blush again, but once she is about to begin the work again, you have already slid your hands down her red costume, agile fingers pushing the fabric aside and sinking two fingers into it without warning.

She whimpered in a curse, and your fingers drew slow patterns inside her.

"Go on, Wanda." You commanded half huskily, also affected by the feel of her wet pussy on your fingerprints. "I was thinking you could warm up my cock while you work. Get it wet for the after party, nice and ready for you."

She nodded frantically, biting her lips to contain the sounds that threatened to tear her throat as she discreetly moved her hips against your fingers.

"It's an incredible idea, babe." She retorted breathlessly, trying not to smear your makeup with the state she was trembling in.

You murmured contentedly, removing your fingers and allowing Wanda to finish at least one part of your face without smudging anything. But the relief was short-lived, soon, you opened your zipper and only gave her time to take a deep breath before guiding the fake cock into her pussy.

Wanda moaned on top of you, stopping her movements as she got used to the invasion, and resisting the urge to ride it. You left one hand on her low back, stroking it as you sank all the way in.

"Here you go." You murmured last, and Wanda sighed affected by the feeling of being so full. "How do you say?"

She swallowed dryly, licking her lips to clear her thoughts away the complete arousal. "Thank you, babe."

"You are welcome, my dear." You retort meekly, a hand caressing her thigh, the skin that seems to grow warmer with each second. "Are you comfortable? Do you need anything, perhaps a kiss?"

Wanda almost falls for this one, but she knows that if she kisses you, your makeup will smear and she has the impression that the punishment will be greater. She takes a deep breath, forcing a smile.

"It's okay, I'm almost done here." She murmurs, sliding the brush over her face. You hum, not quite pleased that she didn't give in, but at least you were enjoying the whole thing. Especially since you could feel Wanda dripping all over the strap down her thighs. 

"Careful not to get my costume messy, we don't have another one." You remind her as you look down for a moment, and Wanda chuckles, almost indignant at your audacity.

"What a crime it would be to miss the party." She sneers in the final touches and has to stop because you frown seriously.

"Yes, Wanda, it would be, you know why? Because I'd rather enjoy the whole compound empty for the night with you, but you insisted we go, so now you won't cum until we go to that damn party, understand?"

A wave of heat fills her entire body at once, and Wanda chokes softly. When she doesn't respond, you grab her jaw just as hard as you push your hips upward, thrusting her deep with the strap-on causing Wanda to let out a little squeal, nearly cumming in one go.

"S-shit, yeah, I get it." She retorts affectedly and you almost fall into the temptation to fuck her now, feeling her body over yours but you take a deep breath and release her face, moving your hand to her neck, caressing the skin as she tries to regain control of her own body.

"Stop wasting time, baby, the longer we stay here, the longer you keep away from actually coming." You tease and she sighs, before raising her trembling fingers to your face again.

Impressively, Wanda manages to finish your make-up. 

The strap is warm and soaked when you pull it out to stand up, ignoring Wanda's needy cry to go to the mirror.

"Wow, honey, what an amazing job." You praise, receiving a small smile as she tries to keep her gaze off the hardness in your open pants.

You laugh lightly, moving your hands to tuck the toy inside your underwear and zipped it up your pants again.

"You can have it after the party." You tell her, moving your hand to check your cell phone. "And damn, look at the time, we have to go."

Wanda gasps softly but doesn't contradict, rising with shaky legs to your direction.

Only four, maybe three more hours of partying, she mutters to herself. But watching you bend down to get something from the last drawer where the toys are kept, and take out her favorite vibrator, doesn't make her feel one bit better about these hours.

[joaofelix70]

69 WITH JOÃO FÉLIX | a concept.

author's note: first of all, thank you for reading this and my first story that was boycotted by his ex's fans, lmao (i know joão's flopping here, actually) 💀

many people are not writing for him anymore and that's why i'm doing justice to him, so you're welcome, lol. please, tell me what you think about this work, polite feedbacks are VERY appreciated. i get inspired in the morning and wrote it kinda quickly. really random, but i need to say how obsessed i am with joão being religious, like this gif shows. the way he's crossing himself, kissing his hand and pointing to the sky 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

I'M CRYING, SOBBING ON MY KNEES AND BEGGING HIM TO HAVE A RELIGIOUS FAMILY WITH ME. also, my requests are open. i'm waiting for you to talk to me there <3

warnings: self-explanatory sex position. +18 content. smut, nsfw without context. plus, he's also fingering you here (our dream 😭).

words: 461.

"holy shit, what a good pussy. i missed it, princesa (princess). i missed you!" his fingerprints wrap in your midst of the hot, overflowing fountain: causing an insatiable thirst, to which no other substance would be able to succumb.

"i always need you so badly, gatinho (handsome). i fucking belong to you!" your whimpers exude despair in the name of pleasure, making joão laugh and his ego to inflate.

"of course you do! all this shit, all this is only mine. fuck, i'm such a lucky guy." your walls tighten and compress his beautiful bones, sending sinful sensations to his area of hardness and dampness. then, you're empty. his tongue curls around his fingers, appetizing you.

"so fucking delicious!" wet kisses are deposited on your neck and boobs: delighting his face on each, vehemently sucking and biting them.

"use my body to show it, joão. i'm yours!" your hands involve around the structure of his cock, lips swallowing the resplendent pre-cum from the head and witnessing it run down your chin. stroking and tasting the testicles, you lift your mouth and enter every inch of it into your throat, scratching his toned tights. your hair is pulled by félix and your head guided to have him deeper, completely.

"yeah! just like that! be the good and grateful girl that you are. i'm so proud of you, princesa." joão's destabilized, moaning in portuguese, echoing your name with his beautiful accent, while eyes are closed. however, he doesn't stop. his saliva spread throughout the shape of your torso, hickeys pigmenting the place below where you're most begging to be touched. his mouth explores your intimacy, painting formats and drawings, like you're his work of art: his nose rubbing your clit and offering continual instigations, the tip of his tongue persistently granting the beg leave in the entrance. so he persists, controlling your greedy movements against his face: firm pressure on your waist.

"let me know when you're close, ok? wanna take care of you!" félix grabs your ass, flattening and reddening your skin. tears are shed over your flushed face, your voice weakened after so many verbal liberations. you hold his dilating dick and slap it on your cheek, teasing it through licks and your light, sensitive touch.

"tell me how much you love me, gatinho. i deserve this for being your good girl who is about to cum on your face." you testify his acts getting intensified: ecstasy, along with sexual spasms, protruding from joão. his head goes back and, at this point, he's worshiping you. you're his religion.

"i fucking love you, y/n. gonna cum in your precious mouth and throat!"

"that's my man who i fucking love! please, come for me and i'll do the same for you!"

[pixiemage]

Cut the Line

OR: Tango comes home to find Jimmy holding a golden apple...but not everything is as it seems.

[A/N: I told myself I would ever write full Rancher angst...]

[This work can also be read on Archive of our Own]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tango’s stomach dropped, a dread building in his chest that he hadn’t been expecting when he’d come home with iron and food for his soulmate. His eyes were locked on the shining golden apple sitting in Jimmy’s outstretched hand.

“...where’d you find that?” he breathed, tension straining the soulbond.

“Pearl,” Jimmy told him. His voice was calm, even, unfazed - as though it was just another normal day and he wasn’t holding the potential end of their bond in the palm of his hand. “She was saving it for herself, but when I asked for it, apparently she thought I needed it more.”

Oh. Tango slowly closed the front door behind him with a quiet click. He cleared his throat, his eyes still lingering on the golden apple. His tail coiled around one of his legs and he forced himself to turn away, crouching in front of their chests so he could put away the iron he’d mined. He could pretend to be normal, maybe, for a little while longer. Just for a few seconds. Iron went in, tucked away in the corner, then what little gold he’d managed to find…gold he’d been intending to use for a courting gift. (Might not get to use at all, now. His fingers lingered on the unrefined ore, sooty fingerprints clinging to the half-shiny surface.)

“Why?” he asked finally, standing and letting the lid fall softly shut. He turned around and sat on its edge, fiddling with a chunk of undusted redstone he hadn’t put away. “Why’d you ask for it?”

Jimmy blinked, looking confused.

“For…you?” he said slowly, his head tipping to the side. “So you don’t have to be stuck with me and my curse anymore.”

Tango’s blood ran cold, an impressive feat for a blazeborn. His eyes went wide and he stared at Jimmy, waiting for him to laugh, or crack a smile, say he was joking. But he didn’t. He looked so innocently serious about it, as though he actually expected Tango to just be okay with what he was suggesting.

“I’m not - I don’t–” Tango choked out, shaking his head slowly, and he pushed himself to his feet since Jimmy wasn’t moving. He dragged a hand over his face and tried to compose himself. “Jimmy, I’m not stuck with you. I’m with you, willingly. Soulmates, teammates, partners - ranchers. I’ve got your back.” Jimmy still looked lost, confused, as if he didn’t quite understand, and Tango closed some of the gap between them. “Buddy, I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you could,” Jimmy blurted out, holding the apple higher for Tango to take. “You could, if you wanted, and–”

“But I don’t want,” Tango cut him off. Jimmy was still holding the apple between them so Tango took it gingerly from him, barely giving it a look before tossing it toward the bed. Jimmy let out a startled chirp and went to follow it, but Tango caught his arm in one gentle hand. He drew Jimmy’s wide eyes back to him. “I want you, Jimmy. I like who the game chose for me, and if I had my choice I’d pick you again in a heartbeat.”

Jimmy shook his head slowly, his lips tugging into a frown and his brow scrunching up in a quiet distress that Tango could feel in the bond.

“You shouldn’t,” he said, sounding unsteady for the first time since Tango had arrived home. “Tango, you shouldn’t, I’m - I’m bad luck. I’m cursed. It’s not worth staying for if–”

“Jimmy.” Tango shook his head, at a loss for what to say to convince Jimmy that he was so very wrong. “Jim, you’re so worth it. You’re worth–” He was worth everything. Tango stepped closer, stepping forward into the light filtering in through the window and meeting his soulmate’s eyes beseechingly. “Jimmy, tell me you want me gone, and I’ll go. If you can tell me honestly that you don’t want me for a soulmate I’ll - I’ll talk to Grian, okay?” Jimmy’s eyes had turned shining and his jaw had gone tense, his wings puffed behind him. “But I don’t think–”

Jimmy snorted.

Tango blinked and trailed off, watching as Jimmy’s confused and conflicted expression gave way to barely restrained amusement.

“...what?” Tango asked, and Jimmy snickered.

“Sorry, sorry, you have–” He reached up, his thumb brushing over the end of Tango’s nose, and when he turned his hand to let the light hit it, there was a red shining dust clinging to Jimmy’s skin. Redstone. “I didn’t notice until you stepped into the light, but it’s–”

“CUT!”

There was a splattering of laughter and groans from the gathered cast and crew on set, and Tango glanced toward the front door when Cleo shouldered her way in.

“You and Mumbo, I swear–” she grumbled, fishing a compact mirror from her back pocket and holding it out for Tango to take. “How you even manage to get redstone on you in a scene without redstone as a focus will never cease to amaze me.”

Tango smiled sheepishly and glanced at his reflection, chuckling weakly when he spotted smudges of red dust along his right cheek and his nose.

“It blended in with your freckles for a while,” Jimmy commented, taking the cloth from Cleo before she could do anything, leaning in close to get a good look. “Here, let me–”

“Thanks rancher,” Tango winked, and Jimmy went a soft pink as he carefully dabbed at his scene partner’s face. (He did a very good job of pretending he wasn’t affected by Tango’s comment, but the flutter of his wings betrayed him. Just a little.)

A few more people spilled in through the open ranch door, resetting props and fetching the fake golden apple from where it had tumbled across the floor. Grian was among them, a tousled script in hand that Tango knew was covered in red and blue scribbled notes and comments.

“Why don’t you two take twenty?” he suggested in a low voice once he was close enough. He tugged off his glasses and tucked them into his shirt. “That was a really good take, by the way…until Tim broke character.”

“Hey!”

“Yeah? Really good?” Tango repeated, hoping Grian was being honest. It had felt like a good read, and he and Jimmy had seemed to play off each other really well with emotions and timing and everything. But he knew it always looked different from the outside.

Grian grinned lopsidedly.

“Really really good,” he insisted. “Considering we’ve been running this one for almost an hour, I’m impressed neither of you have fallen into muscle memory yet. It still feels real and spontaneous, and you’re getting comfortable enough with the lines that I’m starting to really feel it as an audience member.” He patted Tango on the shoulder and rocked back on his heels, heading back for the door. “You’re doing great! Take a break, you deserve it. We’ll take it from your entrance when you get back.”

“Don’t mess up your hair before we get back or I will kill you,” Cleo drawled, and Tango snickered when Jimmy actually went a little pale at the threat.

“I’m…just gonna go check on Norman,” he mumbled, slipping past Cleo and vanishing off the set.

A passing crew member took the chunk of redstone from Tango as he passed and Tango wiped his hands on the cloth Jimmy had left with him, not wanting to end up with more dust in places it wasn’t meant to be. Cleo took it from him the moment he was done.

“You know he’s terrified of you, right?” Tango teased as he trailed after Cleo, both of them leaving the ranch behind so the crew could finish their reset. He snatched a water from the snack table as they passed. “You could be a little nicer to him.”

“I’ll be nicer to Jimmy when he stops wiping his hands on his costume jeans,” she muttered. “Honestly, you’d think he’d remember they’re not his. You all go for lunch, and he ends up with crumbs and little stains that I have to get out before the next shoot.”

“He’s a bit forgetful,” Tango shrugged, though there was an affectionate tone to his words that he couldn’t hide if he tried. “But he always apologizes. It ain’t like he’s doing it on purpose.”

Cleo huffed and tossed the redstone-tinged cloth into a bin near her makeup station.

“Go find your boytoy,” Cleo snipped at him, making Tango choke on the water he was sipping.

“Wh– ngah, hah, um–” He let out a light, nervous laugh. “My what?”

“Your soulmate,” Cleo sing-songed, dropping gracefully into the comfortable chair she’d all but demanded be brought in for her corner of the set. “Go on. We both know he’s waiting at his trailer for you.”

Tango felt his face warm, and he was sure there were tiny sparking flames dancing in his hair beneath Cleo’s knowing gaze.

“How…?”

“Oh my giddy aunt, you’re obvious,” she drawled. “Have you seen you two? Pearl an’ I have a bet going to see how long it’ll take Grian to notice, because - well - it’s Jimmy, and Grian has a hard time picturing Jimmy as anything but his Adorable Baby Brother. Took ‘im two months to realize Scott kept coming around because he and Jimmy were dating.” She grabbed a magazine off the makeup table and flipped through it idly. “‘Course, almost everyone else knows by now. It’s hard to miss.”

What.

“Go kiss your damn boyfriend already, he’ll probably cry if you don’t show up,” Cleo teased. She prodded Tango away with her foot. “Go on. Go get ‘im, tiger.”

If Tango happened to walk just a little too fast to get away from Cleo’s smirking stare, that was his business and nobody else’s. (And maybe Joel’s, since Tango almost ran the poor guy over in his hurry to get to Jimmy’s trailer. But Joel wouldn’t ask. Probably.)

Tango didn’t bother knocking when he arrived at Jimmy’s trailer. They visited each other often enough that there weren’t many boundaries anymore, and it wasn’t as if Jimmy wasn’t already expecting him. So Tango let himself into the small and cozy space, smiling softly when he spotted his partner near the far window, gently misting the few plants sitting on the small table there. They didn’t have a ton of room because of the limited space a trailer provided, but Jimmy always managed to make his feel homely anyway.

Tango crept up behind him on soft feet, enjoying the way Jimmy’s feathers fluffed in pleased surprise when Tango’s arms wound their way around his waist from behind. He chuckled lightly and pressed a kiss to Jimmy’s cheek.

“Hey sweetheart,” he sing-songed. Jimmy melted against his chest with a soft twitter.

“Tango,” he huffed, though he sounded more amused than anything. “You scared me!”

“Who, little ol’ me?” Tango squeezed him once before letting him go, giving Jimmy space to turn around and face him properly. There was a sparkle of mirth in his grin and his tail danced lazily behind him in a teasing sort of way.

Jimmy rolled his eyes adoringly. He set the plant mister aside and let Tango reel him back in, folding into Tango’s hold like he belonged there. He was kissing Tango before the netherborn had a chance to make another quip, his eyes falling shut and a pleased little hum muffling itself against Jimmy’s smiling lips.

“Took you long enough,” Jimmy murmured softly between kisses, his hands trailing over Tango’s costume vest aimlessly. “Thought you weren’t gonna come.”

“Cleo,” Tango told him. “Got sidetracked.” He guided Jimmy away from the window so they wouldn’t bump into the plants, not minding a bit when his legs collided with the couch. He sat down when Jimmy nudged at his shoulders, unsurprised when he immediately found himself with a lapful of cuddly soulmate. They’d ended up here dozens of times before, and by now it was comfortable and familiar, these small precious moments of closeness stolen between scenes or long after filming had finished for the night. He and Jimmy just fit together so naturally…he couldn’t fathom a life or universe where they hadn’t found each other.

Jimmy picked up where they left off as seamlessly as if they’d never stopped. It was all slow, lazy kisses and warm affection, Jimmy’s hands barely stopping themselves from tangling in Tango’s hair (they still had a shoot to finish, afterall), and Tango’s thumbs tracing gentle circles against Jimmy’s hips where his grip had loosely fallen.

“How long do we have?” Tango asked breathlessly, and he felt Jimmy’s arm shift against his shoulder to check.

“...twelve minutes.”

“I can work with that.”

Jimmy let out a soft giggle and pressed his forehead to Tango’s, their noses barely brushing.

“We’ve done more with less,” he teased, and Tango grinned.

“Damn right we have.”

It was still a damn miracle Etho hadn’t found them in that closet.

Jimmy kissed him again, his mouth migrating away from Tango’s, pressing his lips along Tango’s jawline in a slow and gentle trail, mouthing lazily at the spot below his ear and nuzzling his face into the crook of his partner’s neck. He settled there for a moment, seeming comfortable and content, and Tango was smiling adoringly when he pressed a lopsided kiss against Jimmy’s hair.

“Comfy?” he teased quietly, and Jimmy let out a warbled little chirp of affirmation. His wings went lax at his back, draping across the couch on either side of Tango, and a low rumble arose in Tango’s chest at the coziness of it all. “Not gonna lie, twelve minutes of cuddle-actions sounds awesome right now.”

“Just wanna be close to you,” Jimmy murmured, snuggling in just that little bit closer, and–

“What the hell are you doing?!”

Tango jolted, and so did Jimmy, his wings afluffed and his head jerking up to stare at the door.

“Grian!” Jimmy squeaked. “Hi! We - er–”

“What?!” Grian sounded flabbergasted and he looked it too. If his jaw was any lower it would’ve hit the floor, his eyes nearly bugging out of his skull. “You - he–”

“Do you need something?” Tango asked casually, much to Jimmy’s amusement if the choked-back laugh he stifled in Tango’s shoulder was anything to go by. “We still have eleven minutes before we need to be on set.”

Grian gaped at him, his mouth opening and shutting like a fish.

“No,” he said finally, sounding a little hysterical. “Nope. It can - you know what, it can wait. It can - yeah. Ten minutes. On set in - yes. Okay. Right.” He floundered for the doorknob, missing once or twice before he finally dragged his gobsmacked stare away from the couple on the couch. He yanked it open and paused, his wings an agitated mess of red and yellow and blue.

“…how long–”

“Two months,” Jimmy told him sheepishly. He was peeking out at his brother past golden feathers, his wings having curved forward slightly in a half-hearted effort to hide. “We wanted to enjoy it without the attention for a while, ‘cause it was new an’ all. Kept it quiet, you know?”

“Fat lot o’ good that did, lad,” Joel said bluntly, sticking his head through the open doorway and earning startled reactions from all involved. “Just about everyone knows. ‘Cept you, Grian.”

Grian squawked and Tango felt his face warm, his hair sparking alongside Jimmy’s resulting spluttering.

“E-Everyone?” he stammered, and Joel shrugged.

“Most everyone.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t snog in closets on set, idiot.”

Jimmy went pink and Tango sank into the couch. Oh. Oh, geez. Maybe Etho wasn’t as oblivious as Tango had assumed.

He cleared his throat.

“…mind giving us those last five minutes?” he asked, his voice a little high-pitched. At Joel’s smirk-lined snickering, he let out an inhuman strangled wheeze. “NO, not - we were just cuddling! C’mon, man–”

“Mhm. Suuuure,” Joel drawled. He hooked Grian’s elbow and dragged him out, letting the door fall shut. From outside the trailer, Tango heard his last quippy remark: “Use protection, lads!”

Jimmy’s embarrassed twittering was muffled in Tango’s shoulder, his wings almost entirely cocooning them now. Tango ran a soothing hand through his partner’s hair, catching slightly on the light gel that kept it looking so adorable during filming.

“Do you want me to fix your feathers, sweetheart?” he asked, earning a grumble from the avian in his lap.

“…no,” he said finally, sounding a bit defeated. “They’re meant to be a little messy for the scene anyway.”

“Mm.” Tango nodded, trailing his claws against Jimmy’s scalp. Jimmy melted under his ministrations, snuggling into Tango’s chest like he had been before they had been so rudely interrupted. “How about tonight, when we’re done filming?”

Jimmy pressed a lazy kiss to the side of Tango’s neck, and Tango could only assume that was a nonverbal yes. Then Jimmy sighed. He dragged himself upright and glanced at his watch, sending a weary smile in Tango’s direction.

“Almost showtime,” he told him. “Ready to go stop me from breaking up with you again?”

“I’d do it a million times if it means I get to keep you,” Tango grinned, tugging Jimmy down into one last kiss before letting his partner go. Jimmy pretended to be unfazed but Tango could see the way his wings barely fluttered and his cheeks warmed, the nonchalant mask near-transparent to someone who knew him as well as Tango did. He was far more affected by how affectionate Tango could be than he let most people know.

A million times, Tango had told him. And it was true. A million and more, if it was ever needed, he’d fight for Jimmy again and again. In any world.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

[A/N - ...and I still haven't! Written full Rancher angst, that is. I might be physically incapable. Oops! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ALSO HAPPY BELATED APRIL FOOLS! Sorry for the heart attack at the beginning there, I don't know WHAT came over me! 🤪 Craaaazy! This was ALWAYS meant to be an Actors AU! Obviously! Totally! I definitely didn't start writing proper angst and then make a left turn to keep myself happy!!!

(I actually didn't do that either lol. The original plan was to write an entire angsty Rancher break up fic with the WORST grammar and spelling and OOC-ness you've ever seen in your life, but I couldn't force myself to write badly. It wasn't happening, folks. So you get fluff and sillies instead lol. Hope you had fun!)]

[luciennetheboss135]

Opening up the position of overdue books collector nightmare because I cannot send Gault anymore for obvious reasons. I've given The Corinthian a trial period, but he doesn't watch his fingers and now the unpublished Austen novels have bloody fingerprints. New and Better Mervyn said he'd do it, but unfortunately he's potted and therefore stationary. He's also holding the position of my personal mood lifter and I am quite unwilling to divert his attention from his main job

[thefallennightmare]

Arranged-ten

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: language, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death.

Summary: Reader would do anything to make her parents happy and that included agreeing to an arranged marriage. She never expected it to be to one of New York's most feared Mob Boss: Bucky Barnes. He is anything but loving towards Reader however when her parents are mysteriously killed, Bucky makes it his mission to find out who were at fault. And in the process, ends up coming close to losing Reader.

Authors Note: Tags for this will be open, just shoot me a message or comment if you're interested!

Tags: @alexxavicry @mdpplgtz03 @broadwaybabe18 @samsgirl93 @cherryflavoureds-blog @findthebeautyinbreakdowns @clqrosmgc @loumaaria-blog @queerqueenlynn @pampeop @cjand10 @purplerain85 @savannahcole99 @evanstanhoney @sebastianstansqueen @portrait-ninja

Arranged Masterlist

The sudden rush of wind blew the bottom of my dress but I paid no mind to it, the cold breeze having no effect on my already frozen stature. My broken eyes were glued to the large hole in the ground where a two person casket had just been lowered, now filling up with dirt. The men on both sides of me stood with their arms crossed at their hips, not bothering to utter a word. Even if the funeral had ended some time ago, they knew that it wasn’t the time to leave. 

Bucky spared no expense, giving my parents the best funeral they could ever imagine. All of their friends and family came out, some shocked that I had gotten married, especially since it wasn’t known that I was even dating anyone. A quick lie of ‘we kept it quiet for so long, that's why’ seemed to suffice. 

I don’t know how I would have made it without Bucky by my side. He was there for me this past week more than I could have ever thanked him for. He put the majority of his meetings on hold so he could be with me, giving me whatever I needed. 

The night I received the news was the first night Bucky and I shared a bed. I was broken and Bucky was afraid to leave me so he stayed with me that night, holding me in his arms until I fell asleep. The next night I found myself crawling into his bed when the nightmares began, thinking of how my parents died, and Bucky quickly wrapped me up into his embrace. 

That was the last night we slept separate, opting to fully move into Bucky’s room. 

It had been a week with zero updates from the detectives. There was no fingerprints, DNA, or any sort of evidence left behind. 

“Whoever this person was, they knew what they were doing.” Detective Roth’s words kept replaying in my head. 

Up until now, I had been upset and broken about losing my parents, especially after the last conversation I had with them. But now I was pissed, angry, and ready to figure out things on my own. I thought about asking Bucky, him having connections that I would need, but I didn’t want him knowing what I was up to. If he did, he would force me to stop. 

“Doll?” 

I hummed, still not able to form words, but kept my eyes glued to the ground below. Bucky sighed and linked out fingers together, the vibranium of his wedding band pressed into my skin. He decided to wear it on his right hand, mentioning something about having enough vibranium on his left. Bucky made that joke a few days ago, in hopes of it cheering me up. 

It didn't. 

“Y/N,” he pressed again. “They’re done.”

I blinked, shifting back to reality, and looked up towards Bucky. He’s had the same look plastered over his face the last week; sorrow. I told him countless times to stop giving me that look, I didn’t need him to feel sorry for me anymore. 

Which is exactly what I told him now. 

“Stop giving me that look, Bucky. I’ve been getting it all day and I’m so fucking tired of seeing it,” I sighed. 

Bucky nodded then wrapped an arm around me to pull me into his chest. “Sorry. Let’s get you back home then.” 

With my own arms wrapped around Bucky’s back, I looked over towards the other man that stood next to me all day. 

“Are you coming back with us, Steve?” 

The blonde shook his head. “I’ve got some errands to run but I’ll be there tomorrow.” 

Besides Bucky, Steve had been there in my mourning and grief stricken state, a shoulder to cry on when Bucky had to step out for some kind of business. 

“I’m guessing it's back to business,” I looked up towards Bucky. 

He answered my question with a soft kiss to my lips. “I’m sorry, doll.” 

I shrugged, letting him know I didn’t mind. Only because I had been planning on running a couple errands myself and the only way I would be able to do that was if both Bucky and Steve were preoccupied. 

Soft snores sounded behind me as I traced the gold bands of Bucky’s vibranium arm while he slept. His bare chest pressed against my back worked like a personal heater, warming me the second we laid down together. Our feet were intertwined together at the end of the bed, and I knew when he began to twitch that I would be safe to sneak away. 

Steve and him had been busy all day in the office with meetings working like a revolving door. I didn’t see who was coming or going because I had been in bed all day. Bucky thought I needed more alone time to mourn but I was doing the opposite. 

I spent the majority of the day on my laptop and phone trying to chase down any leads I could in my parents murder; where they spent their last moments before coming home and who saw them that night. 

It was all dead ends until I remembered someone who could help me in getting the answers I wanted. As much as I didn’t want to or the fact that Bucky told me to stay away, I needed his help. He had connections in law enforcement that I didn't. 

It was almost midnight and he said that he would text me soon with an address of someone that remembers seeing my parents an hour before the murder. 

Turning over in Bucky’s embrace, I watched him for a moment. His eyes moving underneath its lids, snores coming from his parted lips, and his messy hair falling into his face. Under the moonlight breaking in from the window, he looked so peaceful and divine. 

I brushed the hair out of his face and laid a soft kiss on his cheek, the growing beard scratching my lips. His grip tightened while he buried his face deeper into my neck, leaving his own kiss. Guilt filled me knowing that I had gone against his word and was lying to him but I knew that this was what I had to do. 

My phone buzzed on the table behind me and I did my best to reach for it in hopes of not waking Bucky. 

21412 Longview Lane. 30 minutes-J.W.

“Who is it?” Bucky grumbled into the back of my neck. 

Shit. 

“Just another friend of my parents sending their condolences,” I lied while snuggling closer towards him. 

“At midnight?” His half lidded eyes looked at the clock. 

I smiled at his sleepy voice and nodded. “Late bird I guess.” 

Bucky hummed before rolling towards the other side of the bed and when his back was turned, I placed a few kisses down his spine. 

“I can’t sleep so I’m going to go downstairs and make some tea.” 

With his grumble of words as a response, I knew this was the only chance I would get to sneak away for a bit. 

I rubbed the red mark on my wrist with a grimace towards the guard who opened the metal door in front of me, a loud buzzer sounding throughout the building. As I walked through the long hallway, I tried to mentally prepare myself for the fight that was about to ensue the second we got into the car. 

What I had just gone through the last two hours paled in comparison to the man that was waiting in the lobby. I wished they would have called anyone else but since he was my husband, they had to call Bucky. 

My tired glance landed on Bucky who was leaning against the front desk, an angry scowl on his face. The cop next to him handed him all of my personal belongings and he took them without saying a word. 

“Hi,” I muttered once I was in front of him. 

Bucky kept his hardened face before linking our hands together and somewhat nicely dragged me to the car. The twenty-minute drive home was complete silence, the only thing that could be heard in the small confinement was Bucky’s heavy breathing. He had been gripping the steering wheel so tight that his flesh knuckles had gone white. 

The car eased up the drive and once he was parked in front of the house, I made a quick dash inside, hoping to avoid whatever conversation that was about to ensue. 

“Arrested, Y/N? Are you fucking serious?!” Bucky’s voice boomed as he slammed the front door shut. 

The sudden raise in his voice caused me to jump slightly and I turned on the staircase where I had only made it to the third step. 

“It was stupid. The cop only arrested me because I'm married to you. He wanted to make a point by arresting New Yorks most feared mob boss' wife,” I shrugged. 

Bucky pinched his eyes in annoyance. “What the hell were you doing trespassing on someone's property across town in the middle of the  night? Do you know how dangerous that was, especially because Steve or I weren’t with you.” 

“I wasn’t alone,” I defend. 

HIs shoulders went rigid. “John Walker? Really? Have you lost your fucking mind?” 

I sliced him in half with my gaze. “I know what I’m doing, Bucky.”  

“Did you forget what I told you about Walker?” He asked. 

“I didn’t have a choice, Bucky. He’s the only one that can help me!” My voice was now raised, anger mixed with annoyance. 

His brow raised in confusion. “With what? Breaking into someone's house?” 

I hesitated, unsure if I should tell him the truth. He could see the way I resisted and I’m sure he could hear my heart hammered hard against my chest. Sweat began to form in my palms so I wiped them on my pants before taking a deep breath. 

“I’ve, uh, been looking into my parents murder,'' I stuttered. 

Bucky’s eyes softened. “Why, doll?” 

“Because no one has had any answers! It’s been over a week and nothing!” I snapped. “If the cops won’t do anything then I will!” 

“And you go to Walker for help?” 

The hurt in Bucky’s voice didn’t go undetected and my heart dropped, realizing that maybe I should have gone to him in the first place; could have avoided an arrest charge. 

“The John that I know is different from the one you do, Bucky. There was a point in my life where he would have done anything for me,” I defended my choice. 

“You knew him, Y/N. He’s not the same anymore,” Bucky responded with a flat tone. 

“How do you know?” I curled a brow. “Oh that’s right, you won’t tell me because it’s on the list of ‘secrets to keep from Y/N.” 

I turned on my heels, ready to end this conversation, but Bucky followed close behind as I made my way to our room. 

“You need to end this whole pretend cop nonsense.” Bucky said while shedding himself of his leather jacket, tossing it onto the couch in our room. 

I chuckled dryly. “Haven’t you learned that you can’t tell me what to do?” 

Bucky stepped in front of me as I tried to slip away from him into the bathroom. 

“This is serious shit, doll. You can end up hurt or worse.” 

I raised a finger to him. “I won’t stop until my parents' murders are either caught or dead. If I get hurt in the process, who cares.” 

Bucky’s face fell. “Don’t say that.” 

I shrugged. “You mean to tell me that you would be hurt if something happened to me? Bucky, this marriage was built on an arrangement between you and my parents. They’re dead so you can consider yourself off the hook.”

“Y/N,” Bucky’s voice cracked. 

I ran a hand through my hair. “Look, I'm exhausted and just want to go to sleep. We’ll figure everything out tomorrow morning.” 

I didn’t bother giving him time to respond as I slipped into the bathroom and locked the door behind me.

[justafandomgvrl]

Not Afraid Anymore

Jonathan Levy x OFC

My first smut I’m posting! Jonathan taking Clary’s virginity. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word count - 1800 ish

It happened after two bottles of wine-mostly drunk by Clary. The soft buzz helped her feel more confident, one hand on Jonathan’s chest and the other on his thigh. Even just having his skin under her fingers was enough for her breathing to become uneven.

She stared up at Jonathan, wetting her lips with her tongue. She couldn’t stop thinking about how gorgeous he was, the dim light illuminating the grey streaks in his dark hair and beard. She sighed, tracing her fingers along Jonathan’s chest. He smiled down at her and pressed his lips to her forehead.

“Do you want to go to bed?” He whispered and she sighed, turning her head to press kisses to his neck and collarbones. “Are you okay?” He asked, pulling her up slightly so she could look him in the eyes. “Honey?”

“I want you to fuck me.” He choked as he insulted, sputtering for breath for a moment before managing to collect himself.

“I thought you weren’t ready?” He mumbled, wrapping his fingers around her jaw. “I need you to be sure before we do anything. And you gotta know you can ask me to stop at anytime and I will.” He rushed out in a single breath, adjusting his glasses. Clary nodded, all but pouncing into his lips and smashing her lips to his. He groaned, the hand on her jaw snaking around to wrap into her hair as the other settled on her waist. No matter how many times they had kissed it felt like butterflies swarmed her stomach. His hand slipped under her t-shirt - one she had stolen from him - and his touch burned her skin, branding her with his fingerprints. He squeezed and her mouth fell open, inviting his tongue into her mouth. He stood up, wrapping his hands under her thighs to keep her attached to him, her hands wandering, tugging on his hair. Her kisses trailed from his mouth to his cheeks as he carried her up the stairs. Her nails dug into his shoulders as he squeezed her thighs and he wondered what it would feel like for them to drag down his back.

“Jonathan.” Clary whined as he got to his room after what felt like an eternity walking down the hallway. He chuckled, shutting the door with his foot and placing her gently on his golden sheets.

“Do you still want this?” His voice was thick with lust and Clary nodded, pulling her shirt off. His eyes widened at the sight of her, climbing onto the bed and hovering over her. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Fuck, I was crazy not to see that you were right there all this time.” He mumbled, and Clary was sure she wasn’t supposed to hear him. He placed his glasses on the bedside table before attaching his lips to her neck, determined to take his time with her. A moan fell from her lips and he swore it was the best find he ever heard. “We need to try to be quiet, sweetheart, okay?” He whispered against her skin and she moved, desperate for him to keep touching her. His hands finally came to cup her breasts, palming them through her bra before he tugged it out of the way, relishing in her quiet whimpers that came with every touch. She watched him through heavy eyes. His lips moved down, attaching to each piece of skin he brushed against. She reached for him, tugging at his shirt and he happily obliged. Her nails traced over his chest and stomach, like she was trying to memorise every inch of him. Clary tugged her lower lip into her mouth in a poor attempt to stay quiet as his lips attached to her nipple. Her fingers weaved into his hair, tugging and he groaned.

“Jonathan, please.” Clary had no idea what she was begging for. She just knew she needed more of him. He chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips before sitting back on his heels and admiring the plethora of marks he’d left across her skin. “Jona-“ he cut her off quickly, placing his hand over her mouth. Her doe eyes burned into his and he flipped her skirt up. He licked his lips at the sight of her soaked through panties.

“You’re so fucking wet already, sweetheart. Is that all for me?” He asked, his voice lower than Clary had ever heard him and she nodded. He groaned, both hands coming to rest on her hips as he moved further down the bed and pressed his nose right against her core, inhaling. Just the smell of her made him feel like he could cum in his pants like a fucking teenager. She whined, her hips bucking against his face in a silent beg for him to just fucking touch her already. He chuckled, pulling her panties down as slowly as he had patience for before he dove in. He licked at her folds like he was trying to collect all of her slick, one hand moving to press his thumb against her clit. Her cunt clenched around nothing as he worked her up, alternating between long stripes and kitten licks. Clary could swear she saw stars, her thighs shaking around his head. She bit her lip hard to stay quiet, a metallic taste filling her mouth when he sucked her clit. Her hips arched off the bed, his laughter vibrating across her pussy and she slapped a hand over her mouth in time to stifle a moan. “That’s it honey, stay nice and quiet for me. Fuck, you’re so pretty.” His fingers replaced his tongue, two of them disappearing with ease. Clary could see her slick in his beard and she moaned into her hand, grinding down shamelessly against his fingers as a coil tightened inside her stomach. He leaned down in time to kiss her as she came on his fingers, swallowing her moans. The taste of her arousal on his tongue drove her feral, desperate for anything he would give her. Her blood in his mouth had a similar effect but he swallowed it down. “We can stop now, if you want, sweetheart.” He whispered, the smell of sweat and sex heavy in the air. Clary shook her head.

“I need you to fuck me, Jonathan.” She whimpered and he smiled, pressing one more kiss to her forehead.

“Turn over.” He murmured. She immediately did what she was told, managing to rest on her shaking legs so that her ass was in the air. She turned her head to the side, watching him as he tugged his jeans and boxers down. He almost moaned in relief as his cock sprang free, almost painfully hard. He licked his hand, wrapping it around his dick. He rubbed the tip against her cunt, spreading her wetness around him before pushing in slowly. Clary’s eyes widened at the stretch and she buried her face in the pillow to muffle herself. He leaned over her as he pushed in inch by inch, allowing her time to adjust to each new intrusion. “Fuck, fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” He hissed, biting her shoulder to muffle his groans. He stilled inside of her, waiting for her to let him know she was okay. It didn’t take long. She whimpered and pushed back against him. He grinned, kissing over the bite mark before he began to move his hips, pulling almost all the way out before pushing back in. Clary knew she’d never felt so full, her fingers and toys feeling nothing like this. She mewled at the feeling as he began to pick up the pace. She looked over her shoulder as he picked his body up. His curls were pointing in every direction and he was watching where their bodies connected with focus that she’d never seen. The burn that came with the stretch to accommodate him was one of the most delicious things she had ever felt. The tip of his dick brushed against something inside her and her eyes rolled back in her head as a loud moan fell from her lips. “Shh, shh, shh, there’s a good girl,” he murmured. Her cunt clenched around him at ‘good girl’ and he snarled, fucking into her harder and pushing her head into the pillows. She bit into the material as his death grip on her hips got tighter, her legs shaking and she was sure that if he wasn’t holding her up she would’ve collapsed. “I know you can cum again for me honey, just one more.” He mumbled, spreading her legs wider and fucking impossibly deeper into her. Each time her cunt spasmed around his cock, they both swore they must be in heaven. “Rub your clit for me,” he begged, his voice cracking and Clary moved to obey faster than she’d ever moved in her life. Her fingertips were too soft after feeling Jonathan’s rough, calloused pads. His hands left her hips. One wrapped into her hair, pulling her up till her body was flush to his. The other covered her mouth as she cried out, his beard scratching against her neck as he sucked on her pulse point. “Cum for me, sweetheart, please.” It was all too much and Clary could’ve sworn she blacked out as she came, squeezing Jonathan’s cock so tight he forgot how to breathe and his thrusts faltered. “Where do you - fuck - want me to cum?” He managed to stammer in between broken gasps.

“Don’t you dare pull out.” Clary mumbled and Jonathan growled, pushing their bodies down against the sheets as he came. She could feel him twitching inside her as he panted for breath, sweat dripping off both of them. He pressed gentle kisses against her skin, the taste of salt dancing on his tongue. He slowly pulled out, sitting back to watch as his spend leaked from her sore cunt. “Jonathan?” She whispered.

“I’m just getting a cloth for you, okay sweetheart? We gotta get clean.” He eased her to lie on her back, kissing her forehead before going to the bathroom. He ran a cloth under the hot tap, making sure the water was warm. Clary was still trying to even out her breathing when he returned, her legs still shaking occasionally as he cleaned her up and then himself. He tossed the cloth back to the bathroom, wrapping his arms around her. “You did so good. How do you feel?” He whispered against her forehead.

“Good. I feel good. I think I met God.” Clary mumbled, her eyes still hazy. “Why the fuck did I wait so long for this?” Jonathan chuckled, his chest reverberating against her.

[yanderenightmare]

soft n gentle noncon w deku☹️☹️

BNHA ! THIRST

Midoriya Izuku "Deku" x darling

TW: NSFW, yandere, dubcon/noncon, light bondage, massive size difference, chubby cock doesn't fit

There’s nowhere to hide from him – not lately, at least – as he’s grown tired of playing hide and seek with you to the point of keeping you locked in your room, kept in your place by a ball and chain with a fuzzy cuff around your ankle – given just enough leeway to allow you to use the conjoined bathroom when you need it.

Mostly you just lay on the bed – counting the hours, falling in and out of sleep – disgusted with how you’re practically just waiting for him to come home only to be his little stress ball. And when he does, he’s already laying his heavy body over yours with massive bruise-knuckled hands rubbing your every curve with a strength that’s always just a bit too needy. 

Pent-up and worn-out after work, he’s too horny to be denied what he’s been thinking about all day. Sagging his much larger shape against yours where you lie like a little mouse caught in a mouse trap – only dressed in flimsy little undergarments – your naked skin feels so good as he drapes you in big beefy arms, tugging you close while molding his crotch against your ass. 

“I’ve missed you, Baby~” He groans tiredly, nuzzling his scruffy chin into the nook of your neck along with a list of wet kisses – his face still smeared in grime and smog he sloppily hadn’t the will to wash off before stumbling home. 

Lately, he looks to have run himself into the ground – torn and frayed at the edges and just barely hanging on by a thin thread. Nomming on you lazily with lips and tongue – his tattered and dirty hero suit is left in a heap on the floor so his battered sweaty body, naked muscles with scars and fresh wounds, can comfort itself tight against you without a layer separating you from him.

“You feel me, hm- Baby? This is what you do to me….” He rumbles, voice rusty and weary – spooning you with hips scooping against your rear, fitting the big bump in his boxers into the firm plushness of your soft and welcoming butt. 

Granting himself some sweet relief with worn hands kept locked tight around you – hugging you close. One working your flimsy bralette off your shoulders before copping your tit, wantonly squeezing into the fat with another heavy groan against your neck as his thick fingers twiddle your nipple until you whine and push back against him – his other hand snakes over the soft flesh of your tummy and belly button, in between your thighs to touch the even softer thing kept there.

“Spread your legs for me, Baby~”

He doesn’t really let you listen – doesn’t give you any choice but to obey with how his blackwhip wraps around the swell of your thighs – lifting it for you with ease and spreading you wide for him before you’re even able to whine out a single little protest to stop it.

“Be my good girl~ Let me feel~”

He props himself up enough to bend over your shoulder – tongue laving at your cheek with lips placing dull but heavy kisses to the corner of your mouth as he moans out sweet and needy nothings. 

His hot fat hand gropes the sweet little thing over the thin lace of your panties, warming you up before leisurely scooping it to the side – making way for his burly middle digit to split your pretty pussy-lips apart so he can rub over your clit with the cruel gritty fissures of his fingerprint.

He kneads it tight until you’re wet and swollen – his other hand making sure your titties are all pretty and perky – before it’s too much and not enough for his heavy cock to burden anymore – desperately dry-humping you from behind.

Nipping on your earlobe, his voice gains strength in the shroud of his arousal, becoming something caught between a growl and a whisper. “Can you give Daddy's cock some love- kiss it good luck while I get you wet and ready to take me?” 

And you know better than to think his question is a request for permission rather than a slight warning – as he sits up against the pillows on the backboard, pulling your smaller shape sideways with your head resting sweetly on his lap – your ear against his navel, hearing the hungry echo in his gut. 

Kneeling at a perfect angle – positioned just right for him to still be able to reach over your pretty ass so he can keep fucking your sweet squelching hole on thick fingers until you’re loose enough to soak his eagerly fat shaft.

Meanwhile, he needs your mouth – grabbing your skull, he gathers your hair into a neat ponytail and waits for you to unwrap him from his boxers. 

And though the thought makes you swallow thickly, you’ve been taught better than to deny him – knowing more cruel toys are only a simple hand-reach away, stocked full within the drawer of the bedside table – ready to force you to down on your knees in more uncomfortable ways than simply complying on your own. So, with fear sweetening your movement, you stroke his thighs sweetly and pull him out – welcomed by the thick musk of sweat and something fuller – all in all, something you can taste before even putting it near your mouth.

“Open up, Baby~ come on~” He encourages, curling two digits inside your wet cunt while prodding your tiny butthole with the gravelly pad of his thumb – waiting for you to drop your jaw wide open and swallow him down deep. “Oh~ good girl~” He hisses, letting his head fall back against the pillows as you pocket the bulging beast in your cheek. “Such a hot little mouth~ so sweet for me~”

He starts bouncing your head on him, and you try and keep from gagging – with hands bracing yourself against the hefty muscles of his thighs, trying to keep steady as he burrows down your throat as far as he can reach. 

You’re only ever able to take him halfway – and though frustrated by it, he shows you mercy by allowing you to lick and kiss instead – with one of your hands jerking the shaft and another fondling his heavy ballsack. 

“That’s a good little baby~ Taking all of Daddy’s rough day away~ Kissing it all better for me~”

He lets go of your ponytail once sure you’re not going to fight him, starting to pet your head as you listen and abide by all the rules he’s taught you about how he wants you to use your tongue – suckling on all his thick veins and the mushroomed tip of cockhead, kissing it sweetly with wet lips and a little moan to show your enjoyment.

“Daddy’s been thinking about you every single second since this morning, Baby- about what a sweet little girl you are~ Been wanting to reward this tight pussy with cock and cum all day….” 

He sets you up on his lap shortly after – both thighs lifted and kept spread in each of his hands as you rest your back and head against his chest with a thick layer of spit and precum coating your lips – both of you watching his slicked chubby cock searchingly bob against your cunt and belly – steaming, wet, and visibly excited, with white seeping from its slit in thick beading pearls.

“You ready, Baby- ready to take me inside this sweet little pussy?”

Your toes curl in the air, dreading it with fear – knowing you’re never any ready for his size – though feeling the pressure of his words blowing hot against your ear where he rests his alongside yours – cheek to cheek with his lips brushing the corner of your mouth.

“Come on, Baby~ help Daddy fuck his little girl….” He licks your face and spreads you a little wider, gesturing for you to line his weeping monstrosity up with your drooling hole.

Thinking him cruel to force you into consenting, you listen and obey either way – spreading your pussylips with two shivering fingers whilst grabbing his member with the other, placing the tip perfectly at your entrance – helping him kiss and split through the tightness even as the sting makes you flinch and wince. 

Like before, you can only take him about halfway before cowering – shrinking in on yourself – pussy clenching so hard to keep him and his mass out before it can tear you apart. 

You cry and shake your head. “Puh- please- Izu-ah- wait-” Begging him silly – eyes shutting as you bite your lip, feeling him ignore you – nudging in further with only a pitiful kiss of mercy to spare, placed quick and chastely on your cheek.

“Oh- you can take it- come on, Baby~” He coddles in whispers against the tears dripping down your face. “Just a little more now- just a bit more~”

He lets his blackwhips take over, keeping your thighs raised and spread for him – while his hands get busy – one rubbing your nipple as he continues cooing at you with the other rubbing your clit as he sinks himself deeper and deeper inside your constricting cunt.

“Relax for me, Baby~ be good and let Daddy in~”

And soon he’s got himself bottomed-out to the hilt with his cock making a big beautiful belly bulge on your poor little inside as you squeeze him tight like a vice – exactly how he’s been aching to feel all day – married deep inside you, inch by last inch until he’s inside your very depth.

“There you go, baby~ Feels so good, hmm? All of Daddy inside you? Squeezing me so sweet and tight~”

Your body goes tense and numb – afraid to move – lying lax against his chest, panting out spit-sticky moans as he curls deep against your tummy, making you feel it all the way up to your throat in a choke taking your breath and words away. 

The blackwhips detangle from bruising your thighs as you give in, and he pushes the two of you over on your knees. Laying you down against the mattress – your pretty face riddled with dew and heat – smushed and blubbering against the cool sheets your tiny hands begin fisting as he slides in and out of your narrow hole with both his arms holding your hips steady to receive him.

He smiles, watching your thighs quake and your spine arch each time he presses neat and deeply against your cervix with the promise of stuffing you full and good – still softly cooing at you to lie there and take it well until he’s bred you good like what a sweet little babygirl like you need.

tip-jar: Kofi

[inkformyblood]

chance encounter (CWFKB2023) #2

Modern AU. Bloodsoaked kiss fill @codywanfirstkissbingo

There’s a man covered in blood sitting at the edge of Cody’s bar. 

He’s pretty enough that the blood doesn’t detract from it, somehow enhancing the bright flash of his eyes as he twists to stare at the door he’s just trudged in from. Cody follows his gaze, settling his elbow on the door to peer down at the trail of footprints that the man’s left in his wake — Cody could line up his footsteps with a ruler, each perfectly placed to try and minimise the damage , and he’s seen habitual drunks who’d run for a bar with less efficacy than this man has — and he catches the man’s eye as he straightens up. 

“I’ll pay extra for the cleaning,” the man says. His mouth twists like he wants to say more and he’s found it tastes bitter, hitting his palate like a pick-axe. “But am I able to order?”

“You hurt?” Cody asks instead, gesturing to the man’s, well, everything. It’s impossible to distinguish his natural hair colour beneath the blood, and every blink on one side grows longer with the sticky slide over the previous finger-smudged space to try and clear it. His clothes haven’t fared much better, a simple button-up destined for a long soak in some peroxide if not an immediate sentencing to the bin and a tight pair of jeans that will make Cody’s brain light up in all the wrong places if he thinks about them too long, blood splatter and all. 

The slow grin that dawns over the man’s face could only be described as wicked, enough to convince a priest to tear off his collar and renounce his crusade if only for a second glance, and Cody isn’t particularly adept at denying himself small pleasures anymore. Nearly dying would do that to a man. The stranger peels his hand off of the bar, his fingerprints embossed in the wood in deep red marks, and Cody’s starting to reach for a rag before what he’s seeing catches up to him. The man’s teeth are pointed, his tongue a flash of pink amongst deep red as he licks over the expanse of his palm, culminating the motion by removing the prosthetic fangs with a wet slick. He sets them next to the soak of his fingerprints. “All entirely fake. A prank I interrupted I believe or it may have been intended for me all along. But now I am soaked to the bone, already sticky and that is only going to get worse, and I’m in desperate need of a drink.”

“We’ve got a small bathroom round the back.” Cody’s mouth moves without his brain’s input, cogs that had already stuck on the intensity of the man’s gaze as he had licked over his palm — that hadn’t been a fascination Cody thought he had possessed but now he can think of nothing else — grinding to a further halt at the thought of the man undressed in the cramped confines of a shower, soap clinging to his shoulders, the soft plane of his belly, lower. “You could wash up there.” 

”You won’t get in trouble?” The man asks softly, leaning closer to Cody like they’re in a confessional, his voice so gentle that Cody flushes from the dichotomy of it all. “No trade secrets I should stay away from, overbearing bosses, jealous exes?”

“Why would my exes be jealous?�� Cody asks before he can stop himself, rocking back on his heels to pinch the bridge of his nose, trying to force his headache with nothing more than the pressure and a fervent prayer.

The man chuckles, ducking his head to make an attempt at hiding his grin behind the back of his hand. The pale swipe over his palm is briefly visible and Cody’s stomach twists, his head swimming with how much he’s craving something he’s only just learned is possible.

“They’d be jealous because I’m getting to talk to you and they’re not.”

Cody grumbles something unintelligible at the man, refusing to look at him directly. He hadn’t had much of a religious lean in his childhood, the house packed too full for anything else to seep in through the cracks. But he had dutifully sat through the parade of speakers from every faith while he’d been at school and sang the hymns like he was supposed to but it hadn’t meant anything special, it just was; the same way got the second pick of the chairs around the tv and he always chose the low armchair that would tip over if he leant back too far, the same way he got third pick of the sweets whenever his family all piled into the car for a trip and sixth choice of where they got takeaway from on the rare nights they could order. It had always been there, braided into his swearing and the way he structured his breaks around the holidays just like he would for the school breaks. But he must have done something right, somewhere, somehow, because this man, blood-stained and smiling like there’s never been anything wrong with the world, is in his bar. 

He holds out the rag, a clean one, uncurling it from his fingers as he does so. There’s an indented line cut into the hollow of his knuckles, thanks to his own actions, and the man murmurs out his thanks as he stands, taking the rag from Cody. He roughly scrubs it over his eyes, revealing patchy pale skin littered with freckles and glitter in equal measures. The glitter is red, clinging to the natural hollows of the man’s face, the furrow of his brow and the corners of his eyes. 

“Bathroom’s just through the door marked ‘Staff Only’, take a left and it’s the second door on your right. Ignore the skeleton in the closet. His name is Lewis.”

“And your name, my most beloved bartender?” 

“Cody.”

“Cody,” the man repeats, lingering over the scant few syllables like he’s savouring them, swirling wine round in a glass as if that would make it taste any better. Closer now, he smells sweet, the fake blood beginning to dry tacky and stick around his joints, a rusting puppet too stubborn to lie down and let the world spin to nothing around him. “That is a lovely name. I’m Obi-Wan.”

He holds out his hand — blank line on his palm, a gold ring on his thumb, and Cody was already halfway in love without Obi-Wan ever saying a word — and Cody takes it. Obi-Wan tugs Cody forward, the edge of the bar catching on the rough curve of his hip, and kisses his cheek, sweet and sticky and smelling of artifical strawberries. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Cody manages, smoke spiralling from his ears as his overworked brain kicks up another gear, dust torn free from pathways he hasn’t touched in years. “You can have that drink when you’re back out.”

“You’re a treasure, Cody, truly. What would I do without you?”

“You’d be sticky and thirsty in someone else’s bar.” Cody squeezes Obi-Wan’s hand before he lets him go. “Now, go. I’m not going anywhere.”