#ITS A FUCKING HEADBAND WHAT THE FUCK

[lemon-wedges]

[tera-starstorm]

indigo disk yuki who has gotten taller, grown more hair, and lost some of the joyous whimsy

[kittyplayz1]

I’m about to play Gotham Knights for the first time and I can’t decide whether I want to play Nightwing or Red Hood

Also Tim and Babs’ costumes look fucking stupid in the cover art so I don’t wanna look at them

[truckstoptigers]

you know how ppl suggest going outside for a little bit to help w like. mental health? when you feel too cooped up/like you need to do smth but you don't have much energy?

turns out going outside doesn't suck as much as it used to!! I have not spent this much time outside since before I was 13 & I can finally enjoy it again!!!!

[nopethatsnotembarrassing]

Okay so I watched the Super Board MV within like 10 minutes of it coming out cause as soon as I saw it I got so excited lmao

But as you may know I am still only just making my way through the album and hadn't gotten to super board yet so not only did I have the whole video to experience but the whole song!!

I loved the video cause it did just feel like a longer version of the trailer! Which I wanted more of so thats fantastic

I love the song especially Chans "na na na na na na" in the checkered rock room. It just gave such like 90s grunge/rock feel I literally was bouncing I was so excited

Also I'm quite proud on how accurately I drew their outfits just based off the trailer!! Like there is only of handful of things I'm gonna go back and fix and most of those are just because I'm a perfection artist who doesn't take "good enough" as reason to not go back.

[moonstruckme]

i loove the way you characterize the marauders! is there any chance i can request a drabble of protective! marauders when their s/o wears something very revealing to like a girls night out 🙈

Thanks for requesting lovely!

cw: alcohol, men (the ones who aren't our loverboys)

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 843 words

Although he doesn’t think of himself as the confrontational type, Remus has no qualms at all with letting his stare bore relentlessly into the man standing against the wall. It takes a minute for the bloke to feel it, but when he looks away from you and catches Remus’ eye, he decides to ogle his drink instead. 

“Fuck,” Sirius sighs, longing woven into the threads of his voice, “that skirt is right dangerous.” 

James hums emphatically, both of their eyes glued to where you’re off dancing with your friends. 

When you’d pulled it on earlier and your boyfriends’ tongues had just about fallen out of their mouths, you’d described it as a “low rise miniskirt.” Remus thought it might more accurately be called a “strip of fabric.” He’s fairly sure you own headbands that are thicker than what you’re wearing now. Pairing it with one of your little tops had all but ensured James wouldn’t be getting a full, intelligent sentence out all night, and you’d covertly asked Remus to take your boyfriends to the bar for a drink when Sirius wouldn’t unstick his hands from you long enough to let you actually dance. 

“She’s alright,” Remus says, turning his stare on another man eye-fucking you from near them at the bar. “She knows how to take care of herself.” 

(And you do, though he doubts you’d mind him offering you a bit of help.)

“I meant for me.” Sirius’ expression is theatrically pained. He looks like he couldn’t rip his eyes away from you if he tried. “Look, you both know I don’t like to get too steamy in public—” James snorts, and Remus coughs into his drink “—but if one of you doesn’t kiss me passionately within the next few minutes, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself from dragging all three of you straight home.” 

“I thought Moony was supposed to be the one with the irresistible urges,” James jokes. Sirius doesn’t seem to hear the joke, but Remus accepts the quick cheek peck James offers him in recompense. “Hang on, I’ll snog you in a bit. Angel!” 

He waves his hand until you look over, gesturing for you to come to the bar. If you’re disappointed to be taken away from your girlfriends you don’t show it, though Remus thinks you might be the sort of tipsy where you’re happy with just about everything regardless. You’re beaming as you make your way over to them. 

“Hey, lovie,” James says. He kisses your cheek while his fingers find the hem of your skirt, giving it a firm tug so it covers more of your ass. Sirius watches its descent with torment in his eyes. “Do you want another drink?”

Your smile goes crooked. Remus thinks you’re trying to be sly, which is just fucking adorable. “You’re gonna get one for me?” you ask, batting your eyelashes at James. 

James grins back at you just as contentedly. “If you want,” he agrees, grasping the fabric of your top to shimmy it up an inch. “Another dirty shirley?” 

“Please.” You peck him on the lips. 

While James turns to speak to the bartender, Sirius steals you away. He takes your hips in both hands, manhandling you closer until he can wrap his arms around your waist and drop his chin on your shoulder. You look happy to be manhandled. 

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” Sirius laments, putting his lips to your skin so his voice is a mournful mumble. You bring up a hand to pet his hair, and the look you give Remus says that you do know, actually. “I think we ought to go home.” 

You appear unsurprised at this request. You turn your head to reply, “I’m having fun, though. Aren’t you?” 

“I was,” Sirius groans. “Let me come back out there with you, please? I promise to behave this time.” 

You hum thoughtfully, sending Remus a playful look. “I don’t know. Do you think he can manage it?” 

Remus suppresses a smile. Sirius does love to dance, but Remus knows he sees dancing with you as an opportunity to prove to onlookers that you’re taken as much as it is a chance to grope you himself. And with the mood his last few cocktails have put him in, Remus wouldn’t be surprised if “dancing” turned into a very public makeout session in record time. 

“Doubtful,” Remus says, impervious to Sirius’ pout, “but why rob us all of the show.” 

Sirius’ grin spreads like a sunrise. 

“Alright,” you say as James hands you your drink. “Ready?” 

Sirius agrees enthusiastically, and you start back towards the dance floor, shouting a quick “Thanks, Jamie!” over your shoulder as you lift your drink above the crowd. 

“Think we ought to worry about her taking that out there?” James cranes his neck to keep track of you. “You know, uncovered and all?” 

“No,” Remus says placidly as Sirius snaps at a bloke who happens to glance at your drink as it goes by. “He’s got her just fine.” 

[twilghtkoo]

oh how you love longhair!jungkook . . .

pairings. jungkook x reader (f)

genres/aus. fluff, smut, established relationship

warnings. long hair jungkook, oral (f receiving), minor cum play, hair pulling, fingering, squirting, finger sucking

notes. wrote something about long hair haechan awhile ago, it’s only fair i write about long hair kook too 🙇🏻‍♀️ likes and reblogs appreciated !! stay safe and healthy <33

masterlist

—

"ahh, this is annoying." you hear jungkook from the kitchen, not really talking to you but voicing his thoughts aloud. you turn your head away from the laptop in your lap towards the man fighting the hair in his face as he towers over the kitchen sink.

you laugh to yourself, focus back on your laptop screen.

"yah, are you laughing? help meee," he pointedly stares at you while you fake innocence.

you sigh, placing your laptop on the coffee table in front of you before marching to the kitchen. jungkook is attempting to move the hair out of his face with his shoulder as he scrubs a plate clean. his bare wrists missing his usual black hair tie that would suit his wrist, so you just use on yours that was meant for you.

"girlfriend here fulfilling girlfriend duties sir!" you jokingly say in a deep voice and saluting as the cherry on top. the corner of his lips lift slightly as he scoffs.

you stand behind him as he pauses what he's doing to lean his head back so you can reach. you strategically use your fingers to comb through his hair as you carefully gather a fistful and quickly tie it up. made sure to not tie it too tight because he gets headaches if they're too tight. you step back and admire your work.

"better?" you ask.

"much, thank you." he exhales. with that you were going to turn around but he stops you.

"wait, kiss!" he urged.

—

"is that my headband?" you tilt your head at the sight in front of you.

jungkook washing his face with—pretty sure it's yours— a cute tiger headband pushing back his hair. soap suds coating his entire face.

he squints his eyes at you. "perhaps?" he says questioningly.

"what do you mean perhaps, that is mine." you snickered, walking past him to do what you originally came in the bathroom for.

"sorry baby, i don't know where mine went."

you flush the toilet and stand beside him to use the other sink to wash your hands. "it's okay, i'll buy you another one."

next day . . .

"really? a cooky headband?" he doesn't even look surprised, yet slowly a smile is creeping it's way onto his face. you just looked so excited when you came back from the store.

"it's fitting! it's literally you." you shoot your arms out, gesturing to him. "plus, now we can do face masks together."

—

"oh, fuck," you cried out, fingers harshly pulling his head into your center as he greedily licks into your cunt.

your stomach moving up and down from the uncontrollable breaths you're taking in and letting out. the pads of your fingers dig into his scalp and the feeling only urges him on more as he grinds into the bed. he's sure he looks pathetic humping the mattress, but your sounds and touch made him desperate and he did not give a fuck.

"taste so fucking good..."

"smell so fucking good..." he curses out in between munching on your juicy pussy.

you let out a strangled cry as his tongue leaves your hole and moves onto your clit, sucking at it. gripping frantically for anything and finding a pillow, you buck your hips, wanting more. needing more. the noises he makes as he eats you out were ungodly. whining, groaning, short breaths as he presses into your folds.

he did not want to stop, he was pussy drunk. his hands slowly drag its way up from your ankle to your leg then where you were needily craving. two of his fingers brush against your hole.

"hmph, kookie," god that nickname. the way it sounds coming out of your lips. the way it sounds in this extremely lewd situation. the way it's just you.

he huffs out. "shit," his fingers pumping into you fast and relentless.

his free hand moves to hold your hips down, licking and sucking on the sensitive bud harder. he felt you tighten around his fingers, your walls fluttering.

"i can't, i can't- oh fuuuck!"

"mmh," he groans out as you both cum. his warm cum coating the inside of his briefs leaving a sticky, uncomfortable mess. your juices are creating a pool from the dip in the bed created from the weight of your ass.

he pulls out his fingers, leisurely, as he sits up on the back of his shins, his thigh muscles become prominent and you clench around nothing from the sight. but you seriously cannot take a fourth orgasm. his face glistening from the meal he just had and hairs sticking out from his once neat man bun.

your body begins to calm down, with shaky legs you slide your feet up and open your legs to make room for him. holding out your hand for him to take he lets you pull him down, at your mercy, his arms on either side of your head. you reach up to pull his hair free from the ponytail, his thick waves cascading down from his neck.

taking a moment to admire the bare beauty in front of you. his cheeks painted a faint red from the previous rounds in here, his baby hairs stringy and sticking to his forehead and sideburns from sweat. the beauty marks that makeup and cameras cannot capture and only people close up can see. your hand comes up to gently cup his face and you almost cry when you can see him physically melt into your hand, his eyes fluttering shut while your thumb makes soft strokes.

you blindly reach for his hand that was penetrating you minutes before and take them in your mouth. your tongue lapping around his digits, humming at the taste of yourself.

he’s getting lost at the sight of you.

finally opening your eyes, he slowly pulls his fingers out from your mouth. the tips of his fingers dragging down slowly from your bottom lip, watching it bounce back. his eyes zone in on the wet streak he’s leaving down to your collarbone.

“we made a mess.” he mumbles, smirking.

“oops,” you shrug, smiling.

[zweiginator]

thinking about Stanford era art begging you for pussy <3 you insist that you don’t fuck athletes anymore, but he has his sights set on you and he just needs you so so bad :((( he’s willing to get on his knees and prove how badly he wants it :( just down soooo bad for you <3

wait how have i not seen this until now.....im sorry i got so carried away with this and its so long

art feels like he sees you everywhere. you work at his favorite coffee shop; it's the little cafe right off campus that he walks by on his way to the tennis courts every day before class. he sees you at the library and at the grocery store. he sees you at little gatherings: tiny house parties and bonfires and everywhere.

he asks people what your name is, who you are, if they know you at all. and people just shrug. say they've seen you around but they don't know you particularly well.

and he asks these questions to these random peers of his because he thinks he's in love with you. his obsession has festered since you wrote his name on his coffee cup back in august. it was the third day of the semester and there you were in low rise jeans and a simple white t-shirt, your hair pulled back. your lips were the color of bitten cherries and you smiled at him. said 'cold brew for art!' in the most saccharine, syrupy voice he had ever heard.

he already thought he loved you then. and then he kept seeing you. and seeing you. and then seeing you again. you definitely didn't remember him. thousands of customers a day near a vast college campus made art's face fade into a sea of other students with cold brew orders and milk substitutions and impatient sighs.

his thoughts were pure, for the most part. he really yearned of buying you roses. the look you'd have on your face when he handed you the full dozen. giddy as you leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. and there your cherry cola lipstick would stain. a mark of your territory. he wanted to fucking be yours.

his thoughts were pure until it was early september and it was still hot outside. oppressive, hellish heat made practice unbearable. art remembered seeing signage indicating that stanford had a pool open for students to swim for free. so he followed them and there he was in his socks and sandals with a towel slung over his arm as he searched for a chair.

and when he peered over his sunglasses, there you were in a gingham bikini, baby pink. reading a book. the oils in your sunscreen melded with your sweat and made your legs glisten, a blinding beacon that almost reflected light like a mirror. looking at your legs only guided him to ogling your torso, the expanse of your neck, that too glistening with perspiration. and then he saw your tits and the curve of your ass and every thought he had about dates and dinner and roses was pushed aside.

'fuck' art almost whimpered it. he turned around because swimming at a public pool with his peers sporting a boner would be social torment. so he left.

and for months, art continued with his rituals. seeing you around, he would smile or nod, but he would never formally introduce himself. would never say hello.

even wearing sweaters and loose jeans art found you fucking irresistible. he imagined how your tits were bouncing as you walked to class. how they would look with you on top of him. it all spiraled until he inevitably ended up fucking his fist, his jaw tensed as his mouth fell open and he went to moan your name--just to realize he didn't know it.

now it's halloween, and art shows up to the tennis team's costume party. he doesn't want to be there. in fact, he's dressed up as himself--a lonely stanford tennis player. racket and everything.

art sits on the couch and twirls his racket on the floor, watching it spin. and then, he hears your voice. a trickle of laughter that makes him stand up to find you. and when he does his knees almost buckle.

you're a black cat, with ears glued to a headband and a tight black tank top. a tiny, tiny black skirt and fishnets and heels to match. your nose is painted pink, cheeks adorned with faux whiskers from your liquid eyeliner.

art interrupts your friends completely.

"i'm art." he holds his hand out, awkwardly as he stands in front of you. he's tall and obscures your view of your friend group.

you grab his hand quizzically and introduce yourself and art is beaming. he has your name.

and then you say five words that send an electric shock through his arm, right to his heart.

"sorry, i have a boyfriend." you nod your head to the boy behind art, who looks like he wants to tear his head off with his teeth. he's a football player, it's obvious by his build. he looks huge next to art, although art is taller.

art says meekly, "well it was great to meet you." smiles at you and walks away. he doesn't know what to do with himself. he leaves, dejected.

___

and if art thought he saw you a lot before that party, then the world is pulling pranks on him because now he can't escape you. and the boyfriend he had never seen before seems to always make a guest appearance.

but you notice art a little more too. he's polite and charming, a tad awkward in an endearing way. his arms look strong when he comes into the coffee shop, tennis bag on his back.

when he comes up to the counter, you look at him through your lashes.

"cold brew, art?"

he nods. flushes a shade of scarlet you've never seen before. you've never had this power over a man.

"can i have your number?" art asks, pointing to his cup. you're still holding the sharpie you wrote his name with. you tug your lip between your teeth.

"i told you not even a week ago i have a boyfriend." you lean forward and art looks at your tits unabashedly. he's a little more confident now as he leans forward too.

"can we not be friends?"

you cap the sharpie. "we both know that's not what you want." a pause. "he and i broke up after the party."

art's ears almost visibly perk up. a hope is sparked. was it for him?

"but trust me." you point to art's tennis bag, the words on his t-shirt. "after that douche, i'm never fucking an athlete again."

art bites the inside of his cheek. he nods and grabs a straw from the counter.

"well i'll let you get back to work. it was nice seeing you again." art flashes you a smile. it's contrived and laced with the pang of rejection, but he smiles.

always so cordial.

art takes everything as a challenge. tennis has always been his outlet; it's the one thing that fuels his fire. but now he has you and there's not even anyone in particular to fight against but he wants you. he needs you and he has to make you change your mind.

he sees you around less frequently now; he figures it's due to the changing weather. he asks you for your number a few more times when he sees you at the cafe; his order has changed from cold brew to cappuccino and you always draw a smiley face on his cup. but the last time it was a heart and art is going crazy for you.

maybe it's because he hasn't had sex since summer because he doesn't even want to if it's not you. maybe it's because tennis has slowed down and it's cold outside. but he's losing hope because you've rejected him five times now and it's just getting pathetic.

and then, at a christmas party, he sees you again. in red tights and knee high boots with thigh high socks and a sweater dress. he sees you talking to a boy with mousy brown hair and art wants to fucking strangle him. he walks up to you.

"cute outfit." art says, pointing at you with his beer bottle.

he's wearing jeans and a cream colored sweater. his hair is messy, lips pink from the bitter wind outside. you admit he's cute. you've never denied that. but it's fun to watch him vie for you.

"thank you. yours isn't so bad yourself."

the boy walks away. so he isn't your new boyfriend. art counts that as a win. and he follows you around like a puppy all night. he asks if you need a drink. it feels like before you get a word out, there he is with a new one and he never opens it because he wouldn't want you to ever be uncomfortable.

and usually you would be uncomfortable getting undying attention like this. art's being a little pathetic, but as your friend told you at the halloween party after he walked off:

"fuck, he's hot."

and hours later, art is still there. it's getting late and people trickle out but there he is on the couch. and maybe you're bored. so you sit right next to him. the smoothness of your tights rubs against art's leg as you settle into the couch. his eyes widen.

"why won't you leave me alone?" you ask. it sounds harsher than you mean it.

"i-i'm sorry. i can leave you alone if you want." art has this little frown on his face. but he knows you would've told him to fuck off months ago if that's how you really felt.

you turn towards him and furrow your brows, taking a swig of your beer. "i never said that, artie. i'm just asking why."

you swear art whimpers at the nickname you give him.

"because you're gorgeous." he says, plain and simple. the sky is blue, water is wet, and you're gorgeous.

it makes you melt a little. you don't show it.

"so you don't want to fuck me?"

art chokes on his own beer a little. he notices how everyone is down the hallway, chatting in the kitchen. their voices sound shallow and far away.

art thinks for a minute. he was raised to be a gentleman. to be sweet and kind and patient. but he thinks he's tried that already. so he goes for a more blunt approach.

art sets his beer down and leans in close to you. closer than he has ever been.

"if i'm being completely honest," he swallows. "i'd do anything for your pussy."

his vulgarity almost makes you jump. gives you butterflies too.

your voice is shaky and you are hyperaware of the feeling of his leg against yours. you never noticed his eyes are different colors.

"i told you, i don't fuck athletes anymore."

art draws in a breath. "who said you have to fuck me?"

his eyes are boring into you. pupils blown, a battle line of sweat has appeared over his brows. his jaw is square and tense and he rolls the sleeves of his sweater up.

"i'll do anything for your pussy, i said." he licks his lips. you swear you see him salivating and your legs seem to open without you even realizing it.

art can see your panties. white with a bow on top and he looks away because he was raised better than this. his eyes flit down again and there it is, the jackpot. the fucking powerball. a wet spot. he can even see it through your tights.

"anything? that could be anything." you say. you look around and nobody is there but the room is open concept, new laughter erupts every few seconds. the front door is unlocked.

"exactly." art gets on his knees in front of the couch. he pushes the coffee table further away and it looks like he's about to kiss the floor. he kisses your ankle instead. "i think i've been a good boy."

you want to push him around you want to pull his hair and call him names, god he's making it so easy.

"if you'd do anything, then come here." you pull him by the collar of his sweater and your mouths are millimeters apart. art doesn't know what you mean, what you're about to do.

you slap him across the face. it leaves a mark and the chatter in the other room stops for a second. or two.

a part of you, in the interim, expects art to get up and walk away. to call you crazy. but he smiles, big and toothy. his bottom lip brushes against yours and he mewls,

"do it again, please."

you slam your lips into his and he holds himself up with one arm. his free hand cradles your face and you grab it and slap his own hand across his cheek. art moans into your mouth. ruts against you. it's involuntary, but you feel his cock, hard and heavy through his jeans. but you said you wouldn't fuck him.

the desperation in his kisses makes you almost feel bad. like he's afraid you'll run away. but the way his lips latch onto yours and his tongue licks into your mouth makes you want him too. you pull his hair and wrap your hand around his throat and he pushes your fingers further in. he wants you to make it hurt so he can fucking remember it and see the proof. so you do and he chokes for air, his mouth falling open. you spit in it. he'll take anything you'll give him. he wasn't kidding.

he runs his hands down your body. takes his time with you and you watch to make sure nobody is coming. art doesn't care. he plays with your tits and hikes your dress up but you won't moan for him. he'll make you.

he tears your tights. throws your legs over his shoulders and presses a chaste kiss to your clothed cunt. your hips buck and he holds them down, throwing his forearm over your stomach.

"what if--" you worry.

he looks up at you through his lashes. you can barely see his irises; his cheeks have your handprint tatooed on them.

"i don't care." he pushes your panties to the side.

"fuck."

his dream has come true.

he runs his fingers through your folds and you're soaked for him, sticky and messy and it coats his fingers as he rubs your clit in slow circles.

you hold your moans back, still.

"prettiest pussy i've ever seen." his eyes are almost crossed, the way he's looking at your little cunt, fluttering for him. his mouth is hung open and his lips are so close to your hole, but he just plays with you. spreads you open and admires your swollen little clit as he pushes it around with his thumb.

his fingers are long and you watch him push his middle one into you, all the way to the last knuckle. you grip onto the couch and gasp and he pushes his ring finger in too. he fucks them into you and your eyes are closed and you swear you hear people about to come in--but you moan for him.

"art--artie, please. oh fuck please--"

you're loud. that was too loud, but art nods, knelt before you like you're his fucking princess. you are.

"want me to eat your pussy right here?" he asks it almost sweetly. his fingers fuck into you faster, curling as he works your clit too.

"god--yes, i'll do anything please artie--"

he spits on your pussy. it's probably mixed with your spit too. licks a thick stripe over your lips and spreads you open to flick the strong tip of his tongue over your clit. he moans more than you are; the vibrations send shockwaves of pleasure up your spine and you're yanking on his hair so hard you think it might come out. he kisses your pussy like it's your mouth. it's an extension of it, to him. fucks his tongue into your pretty little hole and he feels it flutter around him. drool drips down his chin. his stubble is rubbing the backs of your thighs raw and he pushes them back. holds the backs of your legs so your ankles dangle and he can spread your pussy himself with his tongue. he can see how you convulse for him. you moan art's name over and over and he never liked his name all that much but right now he loves it because it's tumbling out of your mouth in gasps and whimpers and your legs are shaking under his grasp.

you watch the veins in his hands and arms tremble as he spits on your clit again. the second he makes eye contact with you, he smiles. you hear people coming, and then you're cumming and art isn't letting off even though the hallway isn't that long.

but he pulls your dress down at the last second and purposely spills his beer off the wooden coffee table.

"everything alright out here?" someone asks from the group.

art feigns surprise. "yeah, fuck. spilled my beer. he turns around and it's all over his pants. he wipes your arousal from his face with the sleeve of his sweater.

you stifle a giggle, because there isn't beer on his pants.

[nomaishuttle]

harvey just said to me "I'd like to get to know you better, Sanctity. Let's put aside our doctor-patient relationship." HIS ASS IS NOT FOLLOWING HIPAA GUIDELINES!!

[reshinless]

Hi hi! Ive read some of ur work and literally salvating rn for kinich stuff GAUGH!

So im here to post in a request for gn (or fem) afab reader x Kinich

Basically kinks you think kinich would have and asking reader to let him indulge in those kinks of his <333 (pls let it end with reader being fucked outta their mind)

If ur not comfortable / not open for request feel free to ignore this!

Much love,

Kichi

──── take your shirt off!!

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ synopsis. honestly, he himself can't decide what he likes more.. fucking your hole more, or lapping up what he can from it!

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ pairings. kinich x gn!afab!reader/fem!reader (i use a lot of fem terms here, so sorry :(

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ director's notice. millionares <3333

in a sense, he didn't really have a favorite. i mean he liked whatever you did. he just observed while you both fucked and experimented to see what you liked the most.. but it seems like you don't really know yourself. you arch your back all the same, doesn't seem like you have a favorite either!

oh but in all honesty, you could say his kink was you. he never thought about making love with anyone else, and you're the only one he's ever thought of getting dumb on his dick. so much for that!

kinich is and has always been a straightforward man. if there's something he wants- he'll take it. and that attitude didn't change even in intimate times. in times where he thinks you're about to cream on his fingers, something tells him to slow the tempo of his fingers.

"m- mmf ffuck, kin i'm g'na-" or maybe he favored the sounds you made when he ate you out. entangling the taste of your cunt on his tongue to mix with his saliva, you could feel the grasp on your thighs tighten more. rolling his tongue into your folds, he could hear the way you'd whimper, and groan, pushing his head further into the junction of your thighs.

kinich loves giving nicknames, and having them. hearing you call him 'kin' on its own was already one of his biggest turn-ons. please keep calling him that!!

loving the way his tongue dipped into your sex, you could feel your body instinctively arching your back. you tried to close your legs, but he just as easily pried them back open again, his gloved palm kept your inner thighs squished against his face.

"ahhn- kin' don' stop pleasef.." you felt yourself shriek to the man in between your legs. maybe he liked it better when you begged him to overstimulate your hole while he licked your clit.

your hands were buried in the messy locks of his hair. chasing your high as you felt it pool in your stomach, building up faster than you expect.

you arch your back against his digits, letting it curl against your velvety walls. huh, you looked so pretty like that. a little too pretty for his own liking. wonder what caused the tent in his pants..

flopping you onto your chest against the mattress, he blindfolds you with his headband from earlier, rough palms scatter to the opposite sides of your hips, bringing it up to his shaft.

you could only imagine from the feeling, his tip pressing against your folds. pushing himself faster than usual nights, it felt like he was ramming into you.

oh it was that necklace he bought you with his initial on it. you could even see it from behind, his chest presses against yours as he leans down to fit his head in the crook of your neck just to watch it bounce on your chest.

gosh you were so adorable like this, your eyebrows forever furrowed as he plunged it deep inside you. "npmh- kin- ahhn- wan' haah- more!"

kinich who gladly obliges, each time he penetrates you, he makes sure to really grind into your cunt. make sure you feel everything you want to. he just wants you to feel good; his orgasm is a bonus!

it could be the cute little look you gave him, pleading with your eyes as he took off the blindfold away from your view. now instead- tying your hands together, and gently flipping you over onto your back- putting you in some kind of.. mating press?!

he pinned your tied hands above your head, merciless thrusts, even deeper penetration from earlier. damn how big was it really?! it almost felt like you were getting impaled with the way he hit your g-spot so well.

kinich who loved to make eye contact with you during moments like this. even if you can't keep up the consistency; he knows he can, as long as he gets to observe such a pretty face. getting soo corrupted from his cock <33

"that's right baby, moan as much as you want.. tell the neighbors how much you love this cock inside you." he cooed into your ear, only hurrying his thrusts inside you. before you can feel it, you've already creamed onto his base. making it all the more easier for kinich to penetrate you better!

kinich loves to praise! loves praising how well you take his dick, cuz he knows how big it really is. and seeing your hole swallow it hole in one go? if that isn't deserving of his words of acknowledgement, what is?

he grunted through his words, working through each thrust surprisingly rough. continuously switches paces unconsciously, accidently goes really fast then slow to grind into your precious spot. "s'good.. taking me like royalty.." praise whispered from a low raspy voice from your lover's throat exits as he leans in to get a better angle of your pretty face.

"ah.. uh.. ffuck.. s'tight.. this pussy's mine right?" you felt yourself cumming again, squirting. to kinich though; this was his own sign to continue till he came (asked you for consent first cuz this is all for you anyway.)

"f- fuuuckk g'na cum inside you, sweetheart- ahh sshit..!!"

kinich loves getting to know the fact that you're his, and he's yours. he'll say it as many times as you want; his cock was for your pleasure!

but kinich's aftercare game is insanely good, not something you'd expect if this was a hookup- but it wasn't. he made sure you were okay afterwards, asking you if you ever felt uncomfortable throughout any of it.

let him know if you didn't like some of the stuff he did; this was your first time with him after all, and only the best should come if ever after you'll make love again (which will most likely happen.)

he'll clean you up himself, and make sure you're well rested for the next day. will not accept any argument, will cuddle with you all night- hugging you from behind, and scattering plentiful of kisses every now and then on your shoulders.

[2-dsimp]

Would Temothy like it if his darling dressed up in one of those sexy cow print undies? Complete with horns and a tail and thigh highs of course x3

『Featuring your Yandere Assistant paying your office a nightly visit』

—————-;——————

Cw: MDNI 🔞Fem!reader, Temothy going feral, mentions of breeding, impregnation, very suggestive

—————-;——————

It all started with you wanting to reward your devoted lover and Assistant. For always giving his all in producing the best results for the company. But it soon ended with you fearing for your capability to walk. Since the Bull hybrid who was trying his hardest to persuade you to let him inside you Your office.

Temothy can hardly stand it any longer - the bull’s desire for his darling boss wearing sexy cow print lingerie. Alongside the signature cow ear headband and cowbell that was dangling from the cute choker around their neck. Sent his head spinning and his balls itching to be emptied out in that sweet womb of yours.

Temothy: “My dear please open the door! I promise I won’t fuck you till my balls are empty—shit! That slipped out. Sorry, what I meant was…”

Your Assistant was trying and failing to convince you to open the door after nearly going feral. In trying to quite literally snatch you up and fuck you senseless on sight. Right then and there on top of your pristine desk. After catching a glimpse of your provocative choice in attire. By chance of walking in on you changing within the safety of your office after closing hours.

Y/n: “Tem I heard that! I’m sorry but I can’t open the door and risk having my office in complete shambles cuz of you”

Temothy nearly growled at your soft rejection as he had the insatiable urge to bully his heavy cock. That was leaking copious amounts of pre within his slacks within your velvety walls. The more you kept him away from your delectable form. The more his shaft was hardening in anticipation and need. To sink his meat deep inside your walls and knock you up with his calves. Despite his best attempts at trying to contain himself by gnawing on his bovine tail. But Your Assistant couldn’t conceal how much he looked like a bull that’s about to go rogue from seeing the color red.

The bull hybrid was quite literally hanging on his last thread of common sense before he crashes out. And turns into a polar opposite of himself that was a savage beast. Who wants nothing more than to satiate his needs than that of his sweet little cowgirl. So by total accident he broke the door off its hinges and glowered down at you with wide eyes. A big hungry expression on his face as he completely lost his mind. With you being the sole one to blame for his loss of composure.

[jhopezwrld]

summers in the air, heavens in your eyes

pairing: jack schlossberg x reader

summary: sex on the beach with your boyfriend jack

wc: 1.3k

warnings: smut!!! oral (f receiving), swearing, p in v sex, kinda public sex (pls do not have sex in public or on the beach u will get sand in ur vajayjay), terrible ending

a/n: WELL... listen i've been in love with jack schlossberg since like 2016 and everyone is finally realizing he's hot as fuck so here we are and i have no regrets. enjoy sinners <3

minors do not interract plz! xoxo

the air was thick and warm, the humidity making your hair stick to the back of your neck. your boyfriend jack lay beside you on his back. his eyes are shut as he basks in the sunlight. there are streaks of white on his cheeks from the sunscreen you slathered on him before he ran out to the ocean, eager to surf. a headband you lent him pushed his dark hair back, and his soft skin was now slightly darker than when you arrived that morning. 

“i can feel you staring at me, y’know.” 

he says, reaching a hand over to pinch your soft thigh. you giggle and playfully smack his arm. “didn’t realize it was weird to stare at my boyfriend.” you retort. he cracks his eyes open and turns his head to look at you. he smiles softly and opens his arms, beckoning you to sit on top of him. you comply, moving so you’re now straddling him. his large hands find home on your hips, his thumbs rubbing circles into the skin there. 

“hi, pretty girl.” he moves a hand to cup your cheek and tugs you down to kiss him. your mouths meet gently, moving in tandem. his tongue prods at the seam of your lips and you open them for him. he explores the inside of your mouth, groaning at your taste. “tastes like strawberry.” he mumbles between kisses.

the hand lying stagnant on your hip moves to the tie holding your bikini bottoms together, twirling the strands between his fingers. you pull away and his head chases you, silently asking for more. “jack, we’re technically in public, anyone could see us like this…” you tell him and he rolls his eyes. jack sits up and you shift down on his lap. he brings his mouth to the shell of your ear, licking it before whispering to you “seems pretty empty to me, baby.”

you look around, doing a sweep of the area to make sure it is truly empty. the beach was mostly private, a secluded location in front of the beach house that jack had rented for the weekend for the both of you. there was no one as far as your eyes could see. technically, you were on private property. if anyone saw you two together, it was practically trespassing. throwing all of your worries away, you lean back into him, connecting your mouths once more. 

he smiles into the kiss, pulling you as close to him as possible. his strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you directly on top of his arousal. you groan at the feeling and grind your hips further into him. before you can protest, he flips the both of you, lying you on your back. he moves his mouth to your neck, lathering hot and wet kisses and leaving purple blemishes in his wake. he shifts down slightly, pressing kisses into your collarbones and between the valley of your breasts. 

his hands again reach for your bottoms, and jack looks up at you for permission. as soon as you nod, he slides them down your hips and slips them off, throwing them onto your towel. his hand slides up the length of your thigh, stopping at the innermost part. he hums and leans down, pressing a kiss to your pubic bone. “so pretty down here, honey.” he mutters to himself. 

with that, he devours you. his tongue snakes out to caress your clit. one hand holds your hips steady, while the other slithers down to your slit, slipping his middle finger inside of you. the pleasure you feel is burning hot, a fire that begins to burn in the pit of your stomach. a strangled cry wrings its way from your lips as jack adds a second finger. his fingers move earnestly, knowing exactly what you like and how to drag you to your peak. 

“please, jack. it’s so good. i’m so close” you whine, pushing your hips into his warm mouth. he doubles his efforts at that, sucking your clit into his mouth and quickening his fingers. you bring a hand down to his soft hair, pushing his headband off. his dark locks fall into his eyes, but you’re quick to hold them back yourself. he moans into you as you tug at the strands. 

“c’mon, sweet girl. cum for me, lemme taste it.” 

and you do. your orgasm rips through you almost violently. your hips twitch and your moans are unrestrained. his mouth relaxes and instead presses soft kisses against you as you float back to earth. he travels up the length of your body until he reaches your face, kissing your temple, cheek, and the corner of your mouth before kissing your lips. you could taste yourself on his tongue. 

his hips press into you, grinding into your naked body. he brings a hand down to quickly pull off his bottoms, jerking himself off quickly before spreading your legs. aligning himself with your hole, he pushes into you slowly, allowing you time to get used to his impressive girth. it was no secret that jack was extremely well-endowed, and no matter how many times you had sex with him, it was always an adjustment in the beginning. 

he eases into you slowly until his pubic bone is flush with your ass. he pulls back steadily, rocking back into you with restraint. “s’good, baby?” he asks. his accent is thick and his words are slurred slightly as he loses himself in pleasure. you nod, wrapping your arms around his neck. “it’s so good, you’re so big.”

jack speeds up his movements, slamming into you. his breathy moans invade your ears and you can feel him twitching inside of you. he pulls out of you and taps your thigh, signaling you to change positions. he lays on his back as you throw your thighs over his hips, pushing yourself down onto him again. 

he throws his head back, gripping your hips with a bruising force. if you weren’t so fucked out, you’d tell him to ease up so as not to leave finger-shaped bruises in your skin that could be so easily spotted. but the only thing that was on your mind was bringing the both of you to your orgasms, so you got to work. planting your feet, you begin to bounce on him. he thrusts his hips in time with your movements, pushing into the soft spot hidden inside of your walls. 

“god, baby. you’re so good at this. just made for me, huh? perfect little pussy that only i get to fuck.” 

you clench your thighs around his waist as you feel your climax approaching. “yeah, i’m made for you, jack. m’your girl forever.” you gasp. as if he can sense how close you are, he brings a hand up to your clit, rubbing it in quick and tight circles. he pounds his hips furiously in time with your movements. you feel him spasm inside of you, warm spurts of his spend painting your walls. that brings you to your second orgasm, convulsing above him. 

you collapse onto his chest, attempting to catch your breath. he wraps a weak arm around you, breathing heavily into your ear. the two of you come down in silence. as your breathing evens out, he presses a loving kiss on the crown of your head. “you ok, baby?” he whispers into your neck. “tired” you mumble, nestling farther into him. he tightens his hold on you before shifting to sit up, still inside of you. 

“let’s get you inside, sleepy head. we can take a nap together.” 

he lifts you off of him, and you whine at the sudden emptiness you feel. he pulls up his swim trunks and stands, grabbing your towel and wrapping you in it, guiding you back into the house to lay down and enjoy the rest of your peaceful evening together.

[muntitled]

𝐒𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 | 𝐇𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐥 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐧

Hazel Callahan x F!Reader

Summary: "Jesus, dude, do you know what it means when a gay girl says they wanna have a "slumber party?"

Warnings: Hyper Feminine!Reader, Language, Fluff, Jealousy, Humor, Reader has a crush, Confessions, Teasing, Smut (+18, Minors DNI), Dom!Hazel, Humping, Grinding, Masturbation, Pillowprincess!Reader tbh, Thigh Riding, Public sex, Risky Sex, Massive Degradation Kink, Power Play, Ownership Kink?, Praise Kink, Slight!Hate sex ♡

Part two >

Hazel Callahan was rarely included into anything vaguely external, she would venture to say that she was even rarely included in her own thoughts. Therefore, infuriatingly, painfully aloof Hazel thought nothing of the invite you had presented to the entire group at Fight Club.

Why should she feel special?

Things like this seldom warranted her definite response, so when all the girls had affirmed their attendance, Hazel was... discombobulated to find a silence of anticipation growing pregnant in the gym.

It took a sharp stab in the ribs from PJ for Hazel to swing her head back into this specific reality in the space-time continuum. A reality in which you sat adjacent to her in a circle, legs crossed dainty underneath you to better accommodate the neatly pressed pleads in your pink skirt. There was nothing remarkably profound from you carrying yourself like the pretty princess you thought you were, what strikes Hazel as odd, however, was the look of expectancy in your dark eyes- a look you directed at… her?

"What?"

"You're coming? To my slumber party tonight?" you reiterate stifling the need to pat down at your braids corralled into a pink headband. You are basking under the scrutiny of her gaze but you also happened to suffer under it too. The longer Hazel watched you with furrowed brows, and her knee propped up to her chest, the longer you keened forward as if desperate to hear her say-

"Of course she's coming," PJ once again injects herself in between the two of you. "We'll all be there," You're perhaps nodding at PJ and Josie but your eyes are unable to leave the absolute prison that Hazel has them in. She does nothing except nod as well, before leaving you to your clique who all sit prettily under clouds of Chanel number 5.

The interaction replayed within the confines of Hazel's head throughout the rest of the school day. Right up until she finds herself, nestled in a car with Josie and PJ, taking the short drive in the more affluent neighbourhood from her place to yours.

"So, Hazel," the lascivious tone in PJ's voice already has her rolling her eyes as the car slows before an egregious house. "Are you ready to lose your virginity tonight?"

"Jesus Christ-" Murmurs Josie before PJ assumes what is expected to be your tone of voice- only its a hyperbolic and a higher in pitch reenactment of the real thing.

"Oh Hazel! I'd really like for you to come to my slumber party tonight!" All three girls leave the car as PJ continues her comedic display of seduction as she brushes up against Hazel and says "I really want you at my slumber party."

Hazel laughs as PJ grabs a hold of her upper arm, exposed from her open black button up and tank top. "You're coming right?" PJ sobers up as she says, "That's hot girl speak for "You're going to be cumming inside me-"

Josie does not keep her eyes off the approaching house as she interjects with, "Girls can't cum in other girls"

"Wow!" Hollers PJ, "-And here I was thinking you actually believed that girls can do everything that guys can do-"

"Wait," Hazel's eyes are on her shoes as she readjusts her tote bag and says, "You think she actually wants to like... fuck?" She lowers her voice drastically in the wake of making it up to your front door as she bends and reiterates, "Like actually fuck me?"

There is, frankly no time for Hazel to get a firm response on such a discombobulating thought because you quickly open the front door, and your skin is glowing everywhere from being completely exposed in your pink satin shorts and matching camisole set. Your hair is still loose as it frames your face- your round and constantly smiling face. Why had Hazel never noticed you until now?

Perhaps she did.

Perhaps she negated the possibility of forming a crush on you because you appeared so painfully… straight?

But here you are, smiling at her and only her. Your eyes had been bright at the sight of Hazel and her button up and how outrageously attractive she looked in a tank top but your smile dims significantly when you peer down at PJ'S hand still wrapped around Hazel's forearm.

"H-Hey," Said Hazel, with her voice that reminded you so vividly of a midnight snowstorm,

"Hey," you replied back, quickly turning away. Your mood had already been cemented for the rest of the evening. Despite it being your slumber party, you let your best friend host while you continued to wallow in the regret of your own unshakeable feelings. You hated that PJ and Hazel were very clearly a couple, but what you hated perhaps more, was that you still wanted her. You stole longing glances at her in your space, lazing on your bed while the rest of you sat encircled on the floor in sleeping bags. Hazel completely hijacked your entire brain throughout all the games and activities.

You had lost yourself in her presence and that only kicked up a notch when you felt a pair of forearms lazily splay onto your shoulders from above. With your bum still on the floor and your back against the foot of your bed, Hazel had decided to humour her turn in Truth or Dare. While she answered, she let her legs frame your body. So that it swung over the side of the bed, perfectly framing your sides.

Breathing had been impossible. So impossible in fact, you didn't know it was your turn until it took Hazel bringing her lips down to your ear. Your nerves had been shot to hell as she whispered, "Dove, it's your turn."

You cursed this idea and you cursed this wretched slumber party.

Luckily, It passed by in a significant blur that left you still riding on the high of being in Hazel's personal space until bedtime at 1am. While the girl's drifted into their own sleep, your eyes remained on the pink chandelier hanging from your ceiling while you cradled your stuffed frog to your chest. No matter how hard you try, sleep is a difficult thing to come by. You are left to your thoughts of the girl sleeping on the floor, while gentle snores sounded in the room.

"Fuck," you almost instinctively mutter as you find your hand drifting past your navel. You spread your leg ever so slightly before pushing your hand into your underwear. The quicker you came, the quicker your body could finally be allowed to slip into actual slumber. It sounded like a solid plan, and you had already taken to grinding your wet cunt against your hand- until it all went to hell and your duvet is being pulled slightly off of you.

You're quick to remove your hand and grab a hold of your covers as your eyes snap open to stare at the silhouette above you. Hazel's hair is a spectacular mess on her head and her skin shines orange from the glow of your salt lamp.

"Let me in," she whispers, not really waiting for a response before she's forcing herself into your covers, scooching you on the right side of the bed.

"What are you-"

"Shh," it's embarrassing, how quick you are to snap your mouth shut and heed her commands. Hazel's stomach warms significantly at how docile you are and she smiles as she says, "I cant sleep and I had the vague suspicion that you couldn't either." Hazel says, propping her exposed forearm under her head as she looks up at your ceiling. Her button up is discarded somewhere in the room, leaving her in basketball shorts and a tank but you're not complaining. Not at all.

"I told myself I'd be more intentional with my actions, and my actions are telling me to kiss you right now, but my feelings are telling me you might not want that." You're corraled into stark and naked shock as you watch the girl you've always wanted, confess to you in your bed. It feels unreal. The longing stares, the hours you've spent writing amatuer poetry in your notes app about her, the amount of times you made yourself cum with her heavy on your mind.

This does not feel real.

"Jesus," your voice is uncharacteristically coarse as you rush to say, "Dude, do you know what it means when a gay girl says they wanna have a "slumber party."

Hazel appears stunned as she watches you with wide eyes, "Well yeah," Says Hazel, "but… do you know what it means?"

"I've liked you since junior year," Your confession has her mind going hazy as she tries to recall all the subtle hints which she effortlessly discarded as you just being kind.

"God, you're such an idiot!" You release a chuckle that momentarily stirs a sleeping girl laying closest to the bed in her sleeping bag.

"Shh," Hazel's finger is pressed softly to her lips, you nod slowly only able to process mimicking her own actions.

"What were you doing just a second ago?" She says, swiftly removing the attention from her and her stupidity, replacing the atmosphere instead, with something much more dangerous. There's a difference in her whispers, a tone that has you melting into the covers as you unconsciously squeeze your legs shut. In this moment, she could ask anything of you, and you would simply comply. The silence stretches like honey between the two of you, and Hazel watches with doe eyes as you sink into your shame.

"You don't have to say anything." She finally whispers back, freeing you from your internal damnation but not completely letting you off the hook as she continues: "Just move your hips for me." It was an aggressively passive instruction that exploded a bundle of charged electricity between your legs. You are trapped in a distinctly uncomfortable position between wanting to comply, but wanting to be stubborn. The discomfort of these emotions are not entirely unwanted.

"Do you want me to show you how?" There is a challenging glint in her eyes that simulates the peroration of whatever the hell this is that you are both about to do.

This non-relationship which is so innately a relationship.

"Yeah." Your voice rocks with the signs of an oncoming tempest alerting your body to the possibility of something very, very exciting on the horizon.

Time and space seems so few and far in-between as Hazel keeps you arrested in those blue, endless hues. Examining her features keeps your wanton, unwinding nerves chaotically at bay. There is an intense exchange of control as Hazel shuffles closer, until her head is resting on your pillow and your both breathing into each other's parted lips.

She almost restlessly sets her palm onto your body, her hands on a slow path down your hips. It gives you a sliver of control knowing that bubbling behind her dilated pupils is a need that haunts her just as greatly.

"I'm gonna show you, okay?" She does not need to repeat herself but you recognize her words for what they are: masked behind the excitement and the charged atmosphere, is a real, and genuine need for consent.

The very moment you hopped over this threshold, you would forever be locked in a world anew. There would be no take backs. Your actions would forever be transcribed on the sacred tablet of our shared history.

"Are you going to show me, Hazel?" Desire is seated comfortably on top of your lungs and you speak only in soft pants, "Because it really feels like you're all bark and no bite."

There is a flash of excitement that sweeps momentarily over her lidded lustful gaze.

Her hands are much more sure of themselves as they lock into your sides, her fingers digging rudely into your silk pyjama bottoms.

"Shouldn't you be taking those off?" You ask cheekily.

A scoff slips through her lips as she shifts just a tad closer, her face now centimetres from yours. "You're awfully needy." Hazel whispers, "It's incredibly embarrassing."

What would prove to be even more embarrassing is the jarring way your hips stutter the very moment those words leave Hazel's lips. Your accidentally whorish slip up might have gone unnoticed were it not for the annoying fact that her right leg was seated quite cosily between your legs.

"Shut up," is all you manage to say - a desperate attempt at scrambling for your dignity crumbling in the bed between you.

Hazel laughs airly. Slowly, her hands at your hip begin to move, subsequently allowing your hips to move. A soft and slow moan passes through your lips, drowned out by the sound of sleeping girls as your eyes flutter shut.

"Hey," Hazel's lips are fully touching yours now, "Look at me." She could've never anticipated how the fucked out look in your eyes could ever make her feel. Your eyebrows are curved, as if you're in pain as you hump slowly against her thigh. The coarseness of the silk and her thigh pressing against your aching cunt… it makes everything feel so overwhelmingly real, unmarred by great expectations. The thump of her heart underneath your palm is so incredibly real. The beads of sweat growing pregnant on her forehead are real. Her dry, parted lips pressed against yours is in fact real.

"What are you thinking about?" It strikes you then that you had been a muddled, mindless haze, humping against her thigh with an urgency.

"I'm thinking about you." You reply, truthfully.

"Good things, I hope?" It is so unimaginable, the way her voice is able to remain so incredibly steady while yours is as shaky as a walrus thumping across an icy lake.

"I don't suspect anyone has ever had a single good thought about you." You shoot back and the fingers gripping your hips lock tighter, nearly prompting you to apologise.

The only other option left for you to exhaust is clamping your mouth shut as Hazel's hand assumed a much more aggressive administration. She grips on the plush skin at your sides with an unnecessary hardness, as if she wanted to tear in into you.

"See, I was gonna fuck you," it is absolutely shameful, the whimper that escapes your lips, "But now I'm gonna make you hump my leg like the slutty little girl you are." Before you could scold her, or perhaps violently disagree, rudely, before your cries of indignation could ever be forced out, Hazel is lifting you up from your side of the bed, her head shifting until her brown curls cover your pillow fully.

She turns onto her back, never releasing eye contact as she forces you down so you're straddling her steepled knee. The new position leaves you searching for a new anchor.

"Your hands are pushing down on my hair-" she grumble-whispers.

"If you'd let me finish faster that wouldn't be as much of a problem now, would it?" Hazel's response, in lieu of her thoroughly unimpressed face, had been to grind her thigh further against your core, eliciting a wanton, broken moan into the air.

"You're gonna have to be quiet, Dove." Her voice is gravel, "Wouldn't want anyone seeing how much of my whore you are, would you?" The sound of your own moans slam back into you as you press your pussy incredibly closer to her leg.

"Imagine what they might think of you? Our little star pupil getting herself off on my leg? Is that really all it takes to please you?" Staying quiet had become an unimaginable feat, a mountain that becomes even more difficult to surmount when Hazel's eyes search frantically over your crippling form for a trigger that might send you over the edge.

You couldn't begin to imagine how powerful she must feel watching your hips move wantonly on her thigh while your hooded eyes displayed desperation.

You feel so thoroughly hers, a previous existence in which you went without her hard ministrations guiding you to orgasm felt completely in vain. You want nothing more than to be so incredibly good to her, and the thought that she might want the same way sends you to an early grave.

"You're doing so well, Baby. Keeping going." An embarrassing wave of pleasure ripped straight through your spine leaving a trail of shivers in its wake. There is no mistaking that your reaction to her praise and her validation had not gone unnoticed.

Your pussy is completely soaked against her leg, burdened with the knowledge that it wants something but it didn't exactly know what.

"I need you," you whisper. Before your own shame might wave away the pleasure, you are delighted at the moan that slips through Hazel's parted lips.

You had been so thoroughly enamoured by your own pleasure, you had not stopped to consider hers. The pillow princess stereotype brought with it a wave of shame as you looked down and found her hips stuttering slowly against yours.

"I'm right here, Dove."

And you both began to melt for each other. Your legs are tangled in one another while her thigh is pressed against your clit at the same time your thigh is pressed between her legs as well.

You are pleasantly surprised when you begin to feel the fabric of Hazel shorts moving against your own legs slotted in between her. You didn't have to picture how gloriously lecherous it might have looked, using each other so blatantly to fulfil a need that had begun simmering since forever. "Oh fuck, you're so pretty," her hand finds purchase against your breast, tweaking your nipples until they hardened against the camisole while her other hand was comfortably gripping your jaw, staring up at you with lustful eyes.

"You don't even know how perfect you look right now," you did not speak a word of a lie. Watching Hazel's long and domineering form writhing underneath you is a mental image you wish to keep stored in your chest of sacred memories forever. It is discombobulating, watching someone so used to walking so tall and unbothered, being made a complete mess underneath you.

You never wanted this moment to end.

"I want you to kiss me." She croaks, despite already bringing your face close to hers by the strength of a single grip. Her eyes search yours for something. You only hope that grinding yourself even faster against her leg is a testament to whatever it is she might've been looking for. Soon, her lips crash onto yours. When Hazel Callahan kisses, she kisses sloppily and disastrously as if she wanted to swallow you whole before you ever thought of escaping. Her lips are all encompassing, her tongue is restless, pushing itself into your mouth with avid determination.

You moan softly into her mouth. A sound she appreciates greatly given the way her hips began to move against your thigh with a matching ferocity. Her hand slithers along your back, until she cups a handful of your ass, dragging your pussy once again against her, at her desired pace.

Rough. Arresting. Frantic.

"You're being too loud," She sighs, breaking away from your lips to trail them down your neck. "You're being too fucking loud-"

"Fuck, Hazel I'm close-" Your legs are locked against hers but the hand on your ass keeps your hips moving by proxy. "I'm so close."

"You're gonna cum for me, Dove?"

"Oh God, I love it when you call me that-" There is an embarrassing pool of wetness accumulated between your legs, dripping through your shorts and onto her skin. She is equally as wet and that fact only spurs you on.

"I need you to cum for me, baby?" Her stuttering hips told you her own release is dangerously close, sitting on the horizon. Perhaps your orgasm had bled into something prideful, her need to make you cum first caused her to delay her own release.

"You're fucking unbelievable." You sigh with troubled realisation.

She uncovers herself from your chest, panting heavily without her hips ever stopping. "You're gonna cum first, okay?" She nods, persuading you to mimic her movements because despite everything, you are putty in her hands.

"Okay."

As she kisses you once more her hand travels back to your now exposed boob. Between your kiss, Hazel had somehow managed to haphazardly lift your camisole enough to expose your breasts.

A straggled sound leaves the back of your throat as your orgasm crested.

She succeeded in making a mess of you. Your hair had been set free, braids spilling like wild snakes down your torso.

"Oh God, oh fuck-" a hand slaps over your mouth. Hazel's eyes are wide as she continues to guide your hips to release.

"Such a good little Dove, aren't you?" Your eyes are blown with stars and pixie dust as you nod drunkenly. She's humping your thigh and you're humping hers and soon the orgasm sneaks up on you, stealing your breath right from inside your lungs. Your strangled moan is muffled by her palm.

Her eyes take it all in with a very certain hunger, drifting from watching her own hips grinding your thigh, to the choked expression of utter euphoria splashed against your face.

"Fuck, baby." Her Eyebrows knot as her breathing picks up. The pressure visibly building across her face is nearly enough to send you back into your pool of euphoria.

"Oh fuck- oh baby," The wave of pleasure that courses through her is violent and incredibly validating. It is you who had gotten her to this point, humping your leg so desperately as if it might be the only thing she could ever hope to achieve. For someone who had built such a notable reputation for always mainting an I-dont-give-a-fuck mentality, this feels like an immense achievement for you.

Once the smoke clears, and Hazel finds herself back on planet earth, the relics of her euphoria register as intermittent aftershocks. The dawn of what you had just done begins to settle and almost instinctively, you revert to your teasing.

"How nice of you to finally join us," you are still hovering above her, her long neck craning to look at you.

"You talk a lot of shit for someone who squeaks when she cums."

The dampness between your legs is a reminder. "You're gonna learn to take just as much as you give sooner or later," You don't miss the hint of a promise thinly veneered along that whisper. Choosing to ignore the fluttering in the pit of my stomach at the sound of it alone, you climb off of her and back to your space on the bed.

"What's its name?" Hazel asks, peering into the darkness to bring your stuffed frog back into your arms. "You strike me as someone who gives their stuffed toys names."

You're still out of breathe as you reply, "Texas,"

She cracks a smile at that. Before you can finally drift off, a hand slips across your hip, trailing over your torso before brushing over your breast and staying there. "I'm gonna buy you one...I wanna watch you hump it like you just did my leg okay?"

All you're able to do is nod.

[alexander-arcturus-black-lupin]

Loki using his Shadows on you after your behaviour at a party

TW: Slight Voeyerism, sex with shadows, hints to somnophilia.

Odin had held a grand festival. It had beautiful nymphs and goddesses from different worlds. You had dressed in a beautiful black top with a matching skirt. The shirt cut off before your navel and the skirt cut off before your thighs.

Wrapped in a beautiful glittery veil, and a golden headband. You were stunning, in Loki's eyes you shined brighter than all the stars above, glittering on the ceiling.

Grünle a jöttenhimer had asked you to dance and you agreed to one just to indulge him. Suprisingly akward was far from it. He was a gentleman through and through. With slight jokes and remarks. You enjoyed his company yes. Buqt you wished to be in the arms of a god a few yards away.

Although those yards felt like seas. You knew this wasn't one sided as you felt his gaze on you, and you only the entire time. Grünle brought you close for the last time and gave you a polite hug.

Kissing you cheek, he smiled and told you to enjoy yourself. You simply smiled and said you would.

You allowed the music and the wine to guide you, mingling with he crowd. You didn't feel his gaze anymore. You started to turn but was caught when yoy fwlt something trace your waist.

Or rather.

Someone.

"You of all people should know that i get jealous very easily, especially with people i care about," he whispered gently into your neck.

He moved you to he music and you began to dance. You didn't need to look behind you, or at the long veiny hands infront of you.

And he was jealous.

He slowly twirled you and you glimpsed his face.

He was jealous.

The dance between you was filled with tension, he held you closer at parts, his hand going higher towards your neck as though to collar you.

You smiled to yourself, if he ever wished to do that, boy would you let him. He kissed your cheek at the end of the dance. Before stealing one from you lips. It was a quick one.

You only bit your lip and curtsied and after your dance gave your hand out to another, and another, and another. Till you swore you shoes had worn out. With every dance, they would swoop in a kiss your cheek.

You could basically feel his jealousy rising with each peck. You had gone out to the adjoining balcony for air. You tried to gather your thoughts. You had teased the god of mischief. Surely some form of punishment should be on its way.

As you stood pondering what you had done. You realised you weren't alone. You felt them.

His shadows.

You felt them slip under your dress, fondling and groping you. One even slipped into your hand and took your drink. Sliding it onto the balcony table.

The slowly relieved you of you dress sliding it off your shoulders. Soon you were on your back, softly moaning at the invisible person on you. You felt everything, from your breasts to your nethers.

It's not like you've never been touched there before, it's just that you've never been touched by his shadows.

The moved in sync guiding you to your orgasm, one went over your mouth to stop anyone from getting to hear you.

Loki was the type to either fuck you infront of everyone, or the keep your moans and pleasures to himself.

It stopped at your breasts for a minute giving it a light squeeze before heading up your face to your ear.

Over and over, these shadows were relentless. Guiding you to every orgasm. You were a sweating heaving mess. You turned to try and crawl away but they wouldn't let go.

Finally they released you. Cleaning you up aswell. Your mind was hazy and in a mess. Slowly one slid up your body again.

"The things I wish to do to you lovely, but alas my shadows will have to suffice for now, do not wait up for me love, i shall come for you, then, I shall have you, awake or not."

lo elysium.

You felt the floor open at your feet and off you went. You hoped loki would join you soon.

A/N: curtsied

Idk how to spell it and I'm too lazy for da shit

Also if y'all cannot picture the outfit, I got reference from. The Dragon King's bride on WEBTOON , CHAPTER 16

Also reader is either black or like dark skinned, am I projecting? 🤔 maybe🤷🏾‍♀️

[luxthestrange]

RoR Incorrect quotes#189 Manly Men men

It's Spa time Human fighters and Y/n!

Y/n*With a nose pore remover and eye masks under your eyes seeing the time is up*-You can remove the one from your nose

Nikola*Has the same thing you have with a fluffy headband* But we have the one from the eyebags on top?

Y/n*Already about to peal the pore remover BUT as you were talking and peeled a bit you whined in pain* It doesn't matter just remove the n-AAH!

Raiden*Looks at you with a glare and now regrets ever putting this on*...wait-ITS GONNA HURT!?-THATS SOMETHING YOU WARN ABOUT!?!ASSHOLE!?

Leonidas*Eating the cucumber slices plate, also with nose pore remover and cucumbers on his eyes*Are you kidding me y/n?...dang it...

You cackle seeing All minus You and Dadam afraid of what to do till-

Raiden*Is peeling it and yips in pain*AAH!....AAAH!.....AAAAAaaaAAAAh!-

Lu Bu*Looking at Raiden who is peeling it, Then looks at you wheezing in the back at Raiden's pain*

Soji*Worried he whispers to Raiden*...does it really hurt that bad?...

Raiden*OOZING with sarcasm as he still rips it* NOOOO~JUST A LIL BIT~...AH!?-oh shit...I feel a big one got pulled...*Actually, a bit impressed seeing the blackheads on the pore remover but still scream* -aaah!?-fuck...ah!?

Buddha*Shaking his head and points are nose pore remover*Nah guys this shit is staying...his name is Junior and he is my new best friend-

Qin Shi*Is carefully peeling it but... decides to go for it like a Man and rip it one go...regrets it and starts to cry with a squeaky voice*...o-ow...

Y/n & Dadam:

Y/n*Is on the floor on your knees hitting your fist on the floor* -IMMA PEE MYSELF!? DAMN, IT!?

The ones who don't need it, Pore remover...Dadam,Kojiro, and Jack...they got

[chiwhorei]

Bésame

Miguel O’Hara x reader

Tags: 18+ ONLY mdni, College AU, roommates to lovers, tooth-rotting love for this man, pussy-devouring, fingering, squirting, I wrote this in one go so you get what ya get

Word count: 2.3k- written in one, prolonged blackout

Notes: I’m fucking back bitches. I missed you, I missed this. I hope I stick around this time. This was supposed to be a blurb about squirting but the melancholy romantic won again.

Cross-posted to Ao3!

There’s something about the smell of crisp summer morning, the feeling of gentle air, humidity whispering across your face. The inescapable heat of late July is hidden from the world in its earliest hours.

“Keep up Mamí, I’m not getting stuck in the rain because you’re daydreaming.”

You pick up the pace, jogging in quick steps to catch up to Miguel. He’s farther ahead than you realized, strong muscles and wispy brown hair outlined by dark storm clouds.

Your breath is heavy, rattling against your ribs while you match the canter of Miguel’s long stride. He’s never gone easy on you, but your labored breathing makes him ease up a bit.

“What’s got your attention this morning? Or were you admiring the view behind me?” Miguel reaches up to adjust the cloth headband keeping his hair out of his face. His arms look like they’re chiseled from marble, strong, tanned skin flexes under the cutoff he wears in some iteration every morning.

Your eyes glaze over, not realizing the intensity of your gawking until Miguel’s eyes find yours. The color is deeper than usual, darker and melting into the black of his pupil. You write it off as the gloomy weather above, but he licks his bottom lip before relinquishing your stare.

You forgot what he asked you, but he doesn’t press the subject any further. Out of character, but appreciated.

“What time is your last class over tonight?” He asks, you fix your eyes on a stop sign ahead to avoid getting lost in his stare again. You see him from the corner of your eye, the angle making it seem that his gaze is focused on the bounce of your chest.

It’s just the angle, you sound even less convincing in your own head.

“Uh- well it’s Monday, so I have lab until 4:30.” You groan out the last part, ruminating on the long day ahead of you.

“My evening class got canceled for today, so I can take care of dinner tonight.”

You hum at him, his offer settles against your shoulders like honey. Something to look forward to at the end of a long day.

Sometimes he almost feels real.

He folded you into his life like melted chocolate. An easy, peaceful affection towards you since you moved in all those months ago. An offer to join his morning runs, filling a thermos of coffee for you to grab before leaving the apartment, coming home to dinner with that casual dismissal that makes your head spin.

“It’s no problem, mamí, that’s what roommates are for.” He’s always been so plain and earnest, smoothing over any objections with a sugary term of endearment and those big brown eyes.

Your heart aches so deeply when you forget that he’s just your roommate. Stabbing and twisting in your breastbone when you think about how much effort he must put in with dates.

You stop abruptly, feet cemented to the sidewalk and chest heaving rapidly. Miguel slows to a stop when he notices you missing from his side.

“Hey, don’t tell me you’re quitting, we’re two blocks from the apartment.” His voice is light, but his eyes fall from amusement to concern when he sees how hard your breath falls from your lungs.

“Whoa, what’s wrong, are you feeling okay?” He paces towards you and another deep inhale fills your senses with his musky scent instead of the rainy morning air you desperately need.

“I- I’m fine,” you struggle against the words, lifting your gaze to see Miguel’s sweat-slicked curls flop against his forehead.

You blame the early hour, or light-headedness, or a moment of delirium as your hand comes up to tuck the stray hair back under his headband.

“You’re so beautiful, Miguel.”

Your words tumble out, breaching the filter in the back of your mouth that keeps you from saying stupid shit to the man you’re stuck in a lease with.

Miguel’s breath hitches, concern falling away and filling its place with an unreadable expression. His eyes pace between your pupils, freezing the blood flowing under your skin. Why does his proximity make you act like a love-sick puppy? The frustration wells up, lining your tear ducts.

“That- I- I’m sorry.” You return his look with an awkward laugh, coughing around the lump in your throat.

Your body moves on autopilot, sidestepping his frame to make a run for it, but Miguel circles your wrist with a large palm. His skin is callused and warm as he pulls you to stand in front of him once again.

He holds you in his stare, burning eyes and the light grip of your wrist is more than enough to keep you in place.

There’s nothing more you can do but stutter around your tattered pride. Racking against your brain to find an excuse for your weird behavior. A possession? A moment of psychosis? You’ll call a priest later, but you first need to get away from Miguel and the sweet smell of cologne and sweat so you can think clearly again.

“Mi hermosa,” your balance is kicked out from under you as he holds both wrists against his chest.

Miguel’s lips dip down to you, you can almost taste his cherry chapstick as he traces his words above your mouth. You feel the first drops of rain as they hit Miguel’s cheek and bounce off your nose. Before you can taste that distinct cherry flavor, the angry crack of thunder pulls your bones from your skin.

“We need to get home,” you see a flash of lightning as it reflects in Miguel’s eyes, it splits the clouds and opens up a swollen reservoir- rain pounding down on the two of you, “we’re getting soaked Mig-“

“Say the word, Mamí,” He interrupts you, barely fazed by the storm that was ripped from your soul and clawed itself into the sky, “Tell me to fuck off and I’ll never try this again.”

Miguel drops his grip on your wrists, moving those eclipsing palms to the juncture of your neck. His lips beg for your touch once again and for the millionth time.

“Bésame.” Your accent is rigid and unpracticed, remedial at best but music to Miguel’s ears. His mouth meets yours in a wide smile, fingers finding purchase on either side of your neck.

His kiss is dripping and desperate, if you’re not careful you could drown right here and sink into the concrete.

All of the times you’ve imagined this moment are nothing compared to the real thing. He’s aggressive and hungry, licking into your mouth and vibrating your tongue with a growl.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Miguel bites at your lip before pulling away, his face is obscured in the pouring rain, “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

How wrong he is, you think.

Miguel pulled you through the threshold of your shared apartment as soon as the door was unlocked, the only sense he has left is depleted- used up from keeping his composure while you fumble with your keys. His strong, broad arms circling around your waist to tug you ever closer, keeping your mouth open and whining against his.

Your feet lift from the carpet as Miguel lifts you up with the same effort as a paperweight. The feeling of his hands settling on your ass is the last pull against your unwinding composure. You’re legs wrap around his middle and you grind down hard against his abdomen.

“Fuck, I can feel your pussy through your leggings.” His words make you dizzy, grinding against him with a brainless rhythm.

“We don’t have to,” his lips trace down your neck between each word, “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

The sincerity in his eyes hits you squarely in the chest and moving across your skin like fever.

“Miggy, I need you. Please, anything you give me- I’ll take it.”

Your even tone shocks the both of you, the most confident you’ve sounded all morning.

“Fuck, I almost want to make you regret those words.” His teeth graze the tender spot under your chin.

“But the first thing I want is a taste of that sweet little cunt.” You’re sure your knees would buckle if Miguel wasn’t holding you, the rough tambor of his voice will be the death of you- you’ll take your chances.

Miguel carries you past the small kitchen and living area, you don’t notice where he’s sat you until he pulls his lips away from yours.

His room smells like fresh laundry and pine, the bedspread he’s set you on is tucked neatly on either side and soft under your touch. You’ve sat in this exact spot plenty of times, to study into the late night, to watch reruns of your favorite show on lazy Sunday afternoons- but never like this.

Miguel pushes you lightly so your back hits the mattress, he spreads your legs apart at the knee and you feel the tight fabric of your leggings as it shifts against your pussy.

Your running set is tight against your skin, sweat and rain covering your trembling body so that every inch is sticky and damp.

Miguel’s pointer and middle finger rub against your pussy, memorizing the outline of your plush lips under thin nylon. He’ll tuck the image into the back of his mind in case he needs it later.

“Mmm, no panties this morning,” he muses, pressing his thumb against your clit.

Miguel pulls at the fabric on your pussy, letting it snap back against your skin, you can feel the tight material drenched from your aching pussy. You want to tell him that you can hardly take this teasing, but all that comes out is a wobbly string of please, please, please.

“Don’t worry, Mamí, I’m gonna take care of you.” Your thoughts don’t catch up to him until the chill of open air hits your bare cunt. Your soaked leggings are tossed to the corner of his almost clinically clean room.

Miguel takes a moment to marvel at the sopping wet pussy he’s got trapped against his mattress.

“Que maravilla,” he kisses his words flatly against your puffy lips before coaxing them open with his nose. His face is covered in you already, glistening across his lips and chin. But it’s not enough, it won’t be enough until you drown him.

His tongue laps at you like you’re what’s keeping him alive. He kisses with his mouth open, collecting your offering to him and drinking it down with every flat lashing of his tongue.

You taste tangy and sweet, a heady mix of sweat and pheromones that pulls him in ever closer. Desperate to drink his fill of you. Every long swipe at your sloppy hole is dotted with a kiss, every inch of skin is electric- zapping against your clit with every measured nip.

Miguel’s fingers find their way to rest against your pussy, pushing in gently when he’s satisfied with how well his tongue worked you open.

Once the digits are wettened, Miguel pushes two in to the first knuckle. He groans at the feeling of how welcoming your pussy is, how responsive you are to his touch.

He licks his praises against your soft skin as your muscles relax around the thick intrusion. His vision fuzzy at the edges thinking about how you’ll take his cock. The thought is pushed back for now, lingering on it could break you when he’s just gotten started.

Your hips rock down against him, catching your clit with his wide palm.

Your whimpering emboldens him, cock weeping in the waistband of his shorts. He’s harder than he’s ever been, the frustrating ache in his balls is poured right into the quickening pace of his fingers. He needs you to break- crumble into pieces so he can put them back together.

“Miguel, fuck, I need- you need to slow down or I’m gonna“

Your pleas fall on deaf ears, Miguel is hypnotized at the sight of your pussy spilling over against him. He doesn’t relent even as you cry out and shake under him. He doesn’t miss a beat as your pussy squelches, clear liquid splashing against his chest.

“Oh fuck, you didn’t mention you’re a squirter.” His pace is torturous, pumping against that spot deep inside you that turns you into a puddle.

Once his other hand comes down to circle your clit, you know that you’re done for. The fear of letting loose like this is something that holds your rigid body from completely letting go. No one’s ever pulled you from that damn before, but Miguel has torn it down completely.

“Let go for me, Mamí, need to feel you cum against my fingers, need to see you squirt for me again.” The words drip from his mouth like hot syrup and coat your stiff muscles.

He pulls more out of you with each pump of those skilled fingers, more than you ever thought you had in you, more than you could imagine.

You cry as you cum, tears spilling over your cheeks in fat streams. The feelings you’ve kept inside for Miguel, the schoolgirl crush, the craving, the primal need all splashes against the both of you with the telltale spasm of your cunt against his fingers.

Your mind feels like it’s been dipped in wax, dripping from it’s fixed position to coat your shoulders. He makes quick work of tugging you back down to earth, lying next to your limp body with an anchoring hand on your stomach. He coos you, whispering praise into your hairline.

The sun peeks through Miguel’s window, clouds moving on to the next town and leaving the still early morning to brighten up the sky. Your face feels hot in realization.

You’ve got a long day ahead of you.

* * *

All work is mine blah blah I don’t wanna go find my old copyright thing but I’ll piss in your water supply if you steal this.