#and the best of all: he teases that fragile spot on your neck

[merakiui]

What about Alpha!Jade? Is he better? Worse? 👀

Floyd will be blunt and brutally honest when he feels like it, but Jade can be rather deceptive. When you approach him with an offer for friends with benefits, he’s a little too quick to agree. You think Floyd might have rubbed off on him, but Jade’s always considered the possibility of an arrangement like this. Not that you’d ever know that, of course.

Jade is painfully vanilla the first few times. He does it on purpose. As fun as breaking you would be, you only expect him to be the alpha who’ll help you through your heats. Nothing more, nothing less. He won’t exceed any expectations, so all of his preferences are kept secret. He does stay a little while after the fact, but it’s usually to bring you refreshments and snacks if you need any. He’ll run a bath if you desire one. He’ll pick discarded clothing from off the floor and fold it in neat piles. There is no emotion in any of these gestures, and it feels like he’s your butler when he goes to these lengths.

I like to think that things change when he accidentally knots you. :) of course Jade’s usually good at keeping his restraint and he’s never let his desires get the better of him, especially not when he’s dealing with you. That’s how he frames it. It’s never helping you; it’s always dealing with the issue, as if it’s burdensome. But he was a little too lost in thought and you were so defenseless beneath him, shuddering through another orgasm, fingers curling into the dampened bedsheets, your legs wrapping around his waist. And…it just happened. One minute he’s fucking into your slick, warm hole and the next his knot has slipped past the ring of muscles, locking the both of you together. And he suspects that if you weren’t so heat-brained and your hole wasn’t so slick it would probably hurt.

It’s a little embarrassing that he allowed this to happen, and he knows you’d probably panic if you were more self-aware. But you throw your head back and cry so sweetly for him and he’s relieved it won’t cause any issues. It’s a little bothersome after the fact, though, because he has to wait until he can finally detach himself from you.

When Jade’s in love, he’s in love. He can hide it well, but one look at his dreamy, far-off expression and you’ll wonder what’s caught his fancy this time. There was never any intimacy in your relationship to begin with, but lately he’s started interlacing his fingers with yours when he fucks you, gently cradling your hand while you moan beneath him. And his kisses are always so deeply romantic, as if he has to taste you each time he kisses you so that your flavor remains on his tongue afterwards. Gone is vanilla Jade. When he loves you, he wants to love you until you’re on the verge of shattering. Expect ropes, handcuffs, blindfolds, and lots of other fun things he’s been dying to try on you. It’s a shame he can’t do this outside of your heats. He’s certain your reactions would be very interesting.

It feels like these feelings have snuck up on him because suddenly he no longer views you as an obligation he’s tasked with handling. Now he looks at you adoringly, as if you’re the only one he’ll ever see. And this complicates the matter because now he’d give anything to claim you for himself and knot you again, but this time with the intention of pouring his love into you.

[rebelfell]

steve harrington x fem!reader

So periods are bullshit. That’s it, that’s the gist of why this exists. It’s also bullshit I haven’t been issued a Steve Harrington for this exact purpose.

cw: painful period, use of a vibrator, “unprotected” piv sex

18+, MDNI┃2.4k

Steve’s eyes blinked open slowly, reluctantly being drawn from sleep at the sound of muffled grunts and groans coming from behind him. The clock on his nightstand showed an abhorrent hour in glowing red numbers as he rolled over in bed and reached out to feel the warmth of your body beside his. The streetlight coming through the slats in your blinds illuminated your edges, showing the shape of you facing away, curled in on yourself and clutching your abdomen.

He pressed himself flush against your back, knees finding a home in the curve of your own, slotting against you perfectly and gently rubbing his hand up and down your arm.

“Bad?” he murmured, the sound of his voice still deep and rumbling with sleep. 

All you could do was grunt.

Shit.

He’d known it was coming since that afternoon at the grocery store when your mild expression had begun to sink into a sullen frown, wincing and pinching your eyes shut every few minutes. The cramps had barely started then, but seemed to have reached their maximum potential.

He reached down and pressed his hand against your lower belly, in the same spot you always laid your heating pad. Warm and broad and strong, the pressure of his touch provided enough relief for you to exhale a stilted breath. Enough for you to push out an answer.

“M’sorry I woke you,” you whispered, voice close to breaking.

“You didn’t, honey,” he assured with words as warm and solid as his body. “I wish you had. How can I help? Do you need anything?”

“Think you can do a quick hysterectomy?” you joked as best you could in your fragile state.

A soft puff of air danced across your cheek as Steve chuckled and gave your neck a kiss.

“Damn, I left my scalpel in my other PJs.”

“Rats,” you chuckled back weakly.

He nestled in closer, pressing his hand down a little firmer as he moved it in a soothing circle. You rolled onto your back, your nose and lips skimming his temple, his stray hairs tickling.

“Anything else?” he murmured. “Do you, um…do you want help?”

He tries not to sound too eager when he asks. 

It’s not the first time he’s offered assistance of this sort, and he never wants you to think he’s just using your pain as an excuse to fool around. But ever since you told him how orgasms helped with the cramps, he’d been more than willing to offer a helping hand.

Among other appendages.

“Yeah,” you replied after a long pause. “But I…I don’t think I can take anything in me.”

You looked down when you said it, unable to hold his gaze even in the dark. Normally, having Steve inside of you—literally any part of him—was a level of bliss you could hardly describe.

But something about this phase in particular sometimes made it too difficult.

After the lawlessness of ovulation when you were practically trying to mount him every hour on the hour, your body became much more discerning. The cramps made you achy, made it harder for you to enjoy anything besides purely external stimulation. And even that was tricky—your clit becoming stubborn and reluctant, only able to be coaxed out with the utmost delicacy.

You never felt sexy when you got like this. How could you when one of your organs was literally turning against you? Making you absolutely miserable just for not getting knocked up?

Getting off was more a means to an end, seeking pain relief rather than actual pleasure.

“That’s fine,” Steve whispered, nose brushing softly along the apple of your cheek. “I just want you to feel better. Whatever you like, yeah?”

“I like that,” you told him with a soft moan, tipping your head back as he rubbed his hand back and forth across your lower stomach.

“Yeah?” he hummed in your ear. “That helping?”

“Mmhmm…”

“I can get rid of these for at least nine months, you know,” he teased lowly, “Just say the word.”

You tried to groan at him, but it dissolved into a breathy sigh as his hand dipped lower, pressing down on your mound and massaging. You felt his nose nudging at your chin, bumping it to get your attention until you opened your eyes to meet his.

They were still hooded, half-lidded with sleep. It gave him a sultry kind of gaze, one that made your heartbeat quicken and a gasp rattle in your chest. His lips met yours in a languid kiss, slow yet eager, deep yet soft, his fingers now tracing over your quivering belly like he was trying to confuse your nerve endings. The kiss grew deeper, messier, needier, and his fingertips continued their journey upwards, barely skimming your skin until you shivered.

You whined into his mouth, arching your back into him, asking for just a little more, but his touch remained feather light and delicate. The pads of his fingers flicked over your nipples, guessing correctly that your chest would be too tender for anything more intense.

They pebbled under his touch, stiffening behind the sheer nylon mesh of your bralette. 

Steve groaned. His lips broke from yours, kissing down your neck, murmuring sweet whispers to your jugular you couldn’t quite make out. He kissed tentatively but persistently along the curves of your breast until his mouth found the hardened nub of your nipple. He laved his hot tongue over it, letting his warm spit coat it until he pulled away to do the same to the other one.

The shock of the cool air being pushed down from the ceiling fan overhead hitting your wet, stiff peaks has you gasping, the feeling oddly soothing as Steve slid down your underwear.

He dipped a finger into your center, swiping it through your slick folds, still not putting an ounce of pressure on your sex, just letting his digits glide at a leisurely pace. He could already see the effects of his attentions, the pinch between your brows disappearing, the corners of your mouth no longer turned downward. You let your eyes flutter closed, let your head sink fully into the pillow as you breathed steadily…in…and out…in…and out…

They stayed shut even as his gentle stroking ceased and he curled his hand around your own, lifting it to his lips. Your eyes opened just in time to see him kissing the soft pads of your fingers, slowly taking them into his mouth and swirling his tongue to coat them in spit. You then watched, practically hypnotized as he guided your hand down between your legs.

“Hold my place for me, honey. I’ll be right back.”

He slid open the top drawer of your nightstand so smoothly, you barely registered what he was doing until after he had produced your bullet and a bottle of lube from inside. Your own fingers continued his lazy slide through your folds, finding a pace and rhythm you liked while Steve absconded to the bathroom to clean your toy.

It takes him only a minute or so before he’s sliding back up next to you, the heat coming off his body preceding his return as he fondled the toy.

He clicks it on and touches it to the back of your neck, the vibrations rippling along your hairline. The pace of your own fingers holds steady as he draws it further down your body, running it over a few select hotspots he’s done more than enough research to know the exact locations of.

You worry your bottom lip with your teeth as he traces the outer curve of your breast, down to your rib—still light, but hard enough not to tickle. It’s almost like he’s sketching you with a piece of charcoal, following the graceful lines of your waist to your stomach. His breathing gets harder the closer he draws to your core until you withdraw your fingers and he replaces them.

“How’s that?” he husked, his lips at your ear now, his warm breath cascading down your neck. “S’good? Not too much?”

“N-no,” you gasped, all shuddery and nervous all of a sudden. Steve always had that effect, but especially when he was studying you so intently, so zeroed in on your experience. 

“Relax, honey. Just focus on me, yeah? You’re so pretty. My pretty girl making the prettiest sounds. I don’t know what I did to deserve you…”

“Steve—”

“S’true, baby, I think about it all the time. Y’know how many things had to go right? How lucky I had to get for you to end up being mine?”

He’s too good at this, all the lovey dovey shit that makes your head spin as you go back and forth between wanting to believe him wholeheartedly and your innate distrust. Not of him, but just of anything that chipped at your walls, that chinked in your armor—that made you want it like air.

But you let yourself feel it, let yourself get swept up in his sweet words that drown out the quiet buzz of the toy between your legs. He kept it on the lowest setting, knowing that anything higher would be too much, and he let it glide slowly through your folds, spreading out the lube and letting the vibrations tickle your lips before he even thought about bringing it to your clit.

“You’re so perfect,” he moaned, almost whining like he’s the one who needed more as your hips started to subtly thrust. “Do you know how crazy you make me?”

You can’t answer him, too overwhelmed by the pressure steadily mounting in your core, the hot flames of your arousal being stoked and fanned by his words.

“...just want you to feel good…”

His voice drifts in and out, your ears catching bits and pieces as your pulse thunders in them, rapidly approaching the precipice you can see you’re so close to it now.

“Will you come for me, honey?” he begged. “Come for me, I know you can—”

Your hand wraps around his wrist to hold him still, the nub of the toy pressing perfectly to your clit and the pressure tipping you soundly over the edge. A shuddering moan leaves your lips, your chest heaving with it, tears stinging in your eyes and leaking out the sides.

He slams his lips to yours, the most force he’s shown all night, swallowing the sound of your orgasm like it sustains him. Like it’s his favorite dessert. His lips vibrate back with a moan of his own until you relax your iron grip on his wrist. He pulls away just long enough to click off the toy and then swiftly returns to your kiss. It makes you keen into him, back arching off the bed.

”God, Steve…please,” you whimpered, pawing at the waistband of his pajama pants.

“What, honey? You want another? Anything you want, it’s yours—”

He brought the bullet back to your clit, but you batted it away. “No, no—need you.”

Your hand curled around his length, cupping him through plaid flannel to feel just how hard he had gotten pressed up against your hip. A low groan burst out and you thought for a second he might have come just from that. But he still twitched in your hand in response, gasping as he pushed his face close to yours, cradling your jaw as your sweaty foreheads touched.

“Honey, are…are you sure? I thought you said—”

“I can take it, I swear,” you whispered. “I need it, I have to feel you.”

It’s like night and day, the difference in the way your body reacts to him, and there’s no doubt in your mind what you want now. You can almost feel how things inside of you have shifted, how your organs have rearranged to take him in like it’s the only thing they were meant to do.

Steve let the bullet drop to the floor and he rolled on top of you, his bottoms and boxers shoved to the middle of his thighs. The short, thick hair on them rubs your own as your legs spread wide to accommodate his body, legs kicking up to hitch over his hips and ankles locking behind him.

There’s no pain, not so much as a pinch as he slides inside you and buries himself to the hilt. The slippery mess between your legs envelops him completely, walls fluttering and squeezing him so tight it makes Steve’s breath come out in halting gasps—grunting as he presses his face into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. Panting like he’s never felt anything so good.

His musk fills your nose—that smell that’s more than just his gourmand cologne or his woodsy body wash or the light, fresh florals of his styling products. It’s the smell of his skin and his hair and his sweat all coming together at once.

Something that’s pure…Steve.

“God, you…feel so…fucking…good,” he groans into the pillow, his words coming out stilted as he starts to thrust at a slow and even pace. You can feel his muscles quivering under your hands with all the effort it’s taking him to hold himself back.

“Faster, Steve,” you plead, clutching at the planes of his back, “I know you want to, please—”

“Fuck—nothing feels like you, honey. Nothing, nothing, nothing…s’the best thing in the world, I swear to god—”

He’s still holding back, still reluctant to fully thrust and pound in you the way you know—the way you can feel—he wants to. Your hands slide up to his neck, tangling in his tousled locks.

“Fuck me, Steve,” you whine, gripping tight to the hair at the back of his head, pulling it. “I want you to fuck me until you cum, fuck me full of you.”

“Ohhhh, Jesus Christ, baby, you can’t just say that—”

He’s letting go now, his hesitation crumbling as his hips start to snap at a brutal pace. His gasps and moans mix with your high-pitched cries and the lewd slapping of skin, the soft creak of the mattress springs, the bedframe thump, thump, thumping against the wall.

You love the way he takes you like you’re the one thing in the world that matters; love the feeling of making him feel good, of taking care of him the way only you can—the way only you get to. 

It’s the same way he feels about you.

Ty for reading. Love you, mean it 🥝

[roseychains]

jjk men sorted into whether their doms or subs in bed?

Dom or sub? ~

A/n: there all switches okay so I can write anyone for anything BUT if I had to pick one this is how I’d sort em ;) oh and I’ll write for demon slayer now!

C/w: written by a minor!

Choso is a sub. He’s so pathetic. Firstly, he’s so inexperienced he literally couldn’t be on top if he tried. He doesn’t know anything about sex so he needs you to guide him through it. Not to mention, he’s also often scared of accidentally hurting you if he were to try to dom you in any sort of way. The human body is fragile, not at all like his body. He also just has such a soft and sweet nature to him, he doesn’t want to feel like he’s controlling you. Rather, he loves it when you take the lead, tell him exactly what to do, or use him for your own pleasure. It’s what works best for him. He’s so whiny too, sounds like a slut in bed.

You had him laid down on your shared bed, riding him while your hands rest on his neck for support, occasionally applying pressure.“H-hngh!~ don’t stop ahh!~” he whines, and you bounce up and down on him, sliding his member in and out of your cunt, taking him in fully then lifting up. “Yea? You like it when I use you?” teased, but with you riding on his sensitive cock, overstimulating him with penetration alone he can’t muster a response. Only letting out little pleas and cry’s, pathetic moans.

Gojo is a switch. Let me be clear, gojo loves the thrill of sex, and also loves to make his partner feel good. On one hand, he loves teasing you, making you cry on his cock. He’s so mean, giving you small touches until your begging him. He likes to get you worked up then overstimulate you. But on the other, he loves it when you use him for your own pleasure, when you either milk his cock for all he’s worth, when you edge him, or when you get the strap on and pound his ass. He’s down for anything, really, which makes him the most switchy switch out there. He would definitely switch roles in the same fuck session too.

You’d have his hands tied up to the head board, a gag stuffed in his mouth as you palmed and teased his cock, spitting on it and giving it a few rough strokes, bringing him close to that edge just to deny him again for what seemed like hours. His drool was running down his chin and tears wheedled up in the corners of his eyes, begging you to let him cum. You were so focused on his cock, you didn’t realize he had torn the rope binding his hands and tossed the gag across the room. He was quick to sit up and flip you over, aligning his cock with your hole. “Did you have fun teasing me baby? Let’s see how you like it.”

Nanami is a switch. Normally he is a dom because he loves giving. He likes bringing you too your high, without you having to lift a finger. Along side the occasional rough fuck you get when you act like a brat or when he’s releasing his stress on your poor cunt. However, sometimes he’s just really exhausted and wants to lay back, and let you use him to get off. He also hates to admit it but he secretly loves it when you are a little mean and rough. He’s so used to being the scary one, with how he’d built, so it’s a nice change of pace for him.

“Agh!~ kento so deep!” He was fucking into you in a matting press, bringing his hand down to press on the spot where his cock made your stomach bulge. “You feel that baby? I feel it too. Your doing so well for me.” He says the gentlest words while his pace is anything but gentle, manhandling your body and thrusting slow and deep, making you feel and take. Every inch. It didn’t take much longer till he came inside you, pumping you full of his cum. He pulled out and laid back, but you weren’t done yet. You crawled on top of him, and slowly slid down on him. “Gonna use me princess? G-go ahead. O-oh!~” you started bouncing up and down on him quickly, running your hands down to hold onto his shoulders. “You can keep goin right? Just lay back and let me take it from here.”

Sukuna is a dom. He’s the king of curses and full of pride and arrogance, of course he needs his power and dominant presence to follow him everywhere including the bedroom. The idea of being submissive to anyone, especially the one who’s role is to be submissive to HIM is utterly humiliating. If you ever suggest the idea he would absolutely punish you for it. It’s much more natural for him to take control, and have power over his partner in bed, have them bend and fold for him and him alone.

On all fours and a tight grip on your neck, he was using as leverage to pound into you with a ruthless pace. His words were mean, “take it, fucking take it. Yes just like that,” and his hands were mean, one choking you and pulling your back on his cock with the other gripping your waist and occasionally slapping your ass hard enough to leave red marks. But nothing was as mean as his pace, fucking into your body using you for his own pleasure, tip kissing your cervix threatening to spill his cum inside you.

Geto is a dom. Similar to Nanami, he loved to give, and equal amount of soft and rough treatment. Unlike Nanami, however, he is NEVER too tired to take control. He needs control in every aspect of his life, it helps him get is way so naturally he enjoys calling the shots in bed. Further, he is very much into bdsm and power play, so being in a dominant role absolutely gets him going. If you ever suggest to be on top, he won’t be mad or anything he will just decline with a condescending smile on his face. You and him both know you couldn’t even if you tried.

Your body was tied up in full shibari, red ropes suspending you from strong hocks on the ceiling, your legs forced open and at his mercy. He took his time just marveling at his work, admiring the knots and loops he crafted around your body, and finally taking a few careful steps forward and caressing your thigh, inching closer and closer to where you needed him the most. “Quit teasing! Touch me already!” His hand stopped in his tracks and he gripped your thigh with a stern, rough hand. “Watch that mouth. Be patient and you’ll get what you want. Keep up the attitude and I’ll gag your slutty mouth.”

Toji is a dom. He’s just, so big. It’s nearly physical impossible for you to exert any amount of control over him. He’s so muscular and tall, even if your bulky your just not as bulky as him. Further, his heavenly restriction makes controlling him even more impossible, as he has god like physical prowess. You are just a girl, of course you can’t even dream of trying to take the lead. It’s okay though he thinks it’s cute. If you ever floated the idea, he would be like. “Yea, okay. Let’s see you try.” You did not try.

He held you up, and was fucking you against the wall of the shower, not water dripping down your bodies. “Pussy’s gripping me so fuckin tight, you holding up okay princess.” With the way his cock is drilling to you, you can hardly make out any verbal response, nails dragging along his back, cracked moans slipping out your lips. “Hmmm? What’s that? Can’t hear ya sweets. Use your big girl words.” He teased, splitting you open with his massive cock, your smaller frame hardly taking in his girth and length.

[dreamerinthemoonlight]

How they Kiss You (Kaeya, Xiao, Zhongli, Tighnari)

cw:Fluff, Very suggestive, very slight Kaeya angst

Kaeya x gn!reader, Xiao x gn!reader, Zhongli x gn!reader, Tighnari x gn!reader

Requests and Asks are OPEN

Kaeya

Kaeya's kisses come in several forms depending on his moods

More often than not they're teasing kisses, quick, with varying amounts of tongue. 

Somehow they still manage to leave you breathless and always, always wanting more

Kaeya seems to find your reactions amusing. He’ll pull away only for you to chase after him. After doing this several times he’ll “give in” and capture your lips for something long and passionate that makes all the teasing worth it. These usually lead to a good fucking that leaves both of you sleepy and satisfied

Other times, however, his kisses are incredibly gentle. They’re slow and sweet, accompanied by fingers in your hair or a hand cupping your cheek. These ones don't lead to anything more.

Or rather, these soft make out sessions lead to heart-pangs because you know that this is one of the ways Kaeya comforts himself. He loves your kiss, he loves your touch, and he lets them drive away the pain that he can’t always bury

sprinkled between these longer kisses, both the comforting ones and the passionate ones, are kisses to the top of your head

He finds it absolutely hilarious when you pout and glare because it’s all too easy for him to use his height to his advantage like that

Xiao

Xiao’s kisses change greatly as your relationship develops

At first his kisses are very hesitant. He often lets you take the initiative

When he does initiate he treats you a little like glass. He sees his strength as a yaksha and doesn’t want to accidently hurt you. Not when he’s finding that he’s craving something a little more passionate

Eventually, however you do manage to convince him that as human as you are, you’re not fragile. That humans are built to kiss and be kissed

Once he figures this out, make out sessions change drastically

You frequently find yourself perched on his lap, arms around his shoulders while he rests his hands on your hips. really, there isn’t an inch of space between you as you kiss until both of you are breathless

Zhongli

Honestly, full out, blistering make out sessions don’t happen very often with Zhongli (not that he can’t. Every now and then he gets in the mood and good bye underwear, lol)

He prefers things that are softer, more subtle, especially in public. Cheeks, fingers, foreheads, quick kisses on the lips, each full of tenderness and love. You never ever doubt the depth of feeling the ex-archon has for you

Despite his fondness for chaste kisses, things that say “I love you” not “let me fuck you”, he’s just as adept at diving you mad with lust

He presses kisses to your wrists, your neck--he really, really, really like kissing your neck, whether he’s trying to start something or not---every now and then using the faintest pressure of teeth.

Either way, you really never complain

Tighnari

I don’t see him giving a lot of casual kisses. He’s busy. You’re busy. Everybody is busy. The forest watch is busy gossiping about you, lol. So kisses and other forms of affection are kept to the moments that can be stolen from daily life

That doesn’t mean he’s opposed to kisses and stuff though. See, with him it’s not as much about how he kisses you, but where he kisses you.

Any chance he gets, he’s dragging you out of the forest watcher camp in an attempt to get some privacy and attempt to prevent some of the gossip that comes with living in relatively close quarters with people and up a tree.

He found very early on in your relationship that Sumeru’s massive trees make very good make out spots. Not only is it far away from anyone watching or listening in, but the leaves provide plenty of cover.

Of course, “where” doesn’t just refer to the trees

Tighnari is a researcher through and through. Since you started dating he’s come to enjoy “researching” the best ways to reduce you to a pile of mush

So while deep kisses with lots of tongue is fun, he likes leaves light, teasing kisses on your neck, any exposed skin on your chest, the skin just below your ears, and anything else he can get to.

There have been many occasions where his “research” has prompted experiments in just how far you can go in a tree.

[bradshawsbaby]

Senses

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Wife!Reader

Summary: Being loved by Robert Floyd is a feast for the senses.

Word Count: 2.7k

Author's Note: This is my attempt to capture in words the vibes that I have not been able to get out of my head for days. The writing style is a little different than my usual work, but I thought it was fun trying something new!

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Strong sexual content, allusions to oral sex (female and male), unprotected sex between a married couple, romance, fluff.

One thing you’ve come to learn in your years of knowing and being known by Robert Floyd—more intimately than you have been known by anyone else in all your life, you might add—is that to be loved by him is a feast for the senses.

Touch.

Calloused fingertips dancing across the bare expanse of your back, so slowly that they seem to make time stand still, if only for a moment. The roughened pads of his thick fingers twirling over each and every freckle, birthmark, scar. Goosebumps rise in the wake of his warm skin ghosting over yours, trailing down your spine and tracing the curves of your shoulder blades.

The knuckles gliding down your arm wordlessly seek to know, Are you awake?

Yes, you silently reply, your own fingers reaching back to tangle with his, the coolness of his wedding band a shock to your flushed skin. His hand, so much larger than your own, closes around yours for a moment and squeezes softly, tenderly, lovingly.

Then his fingers are gone, replaced by the featherlight touch of his lips against the curve of your neck, his button nose nudging your hair out of the way as he peppers your skin with barely-there kisses that leave your body aching for more. His lips are soft, breathtakingly so, in a way that makes you want to both laugh and weep as his mouth trails from the crook of your shoulder up to that delicate spot just beneath your ear and then down again across the nape of your neck. You’re reminded of the peppermint chapstick that he insists on applying all year long, and your heart suddenly feels near to bursting with love for the man whose arm is now snaking tightly around your middle, drawing you back more securely against his strong chest.

Your hand slides down and traces the curve of his, each of his veins like a sentinel standing at attention as he fists your midnight blue nightgown in his grasp, his kisses growing more insistent as he nips at your ear, his tongue soothing the sting left in the wake of his affectionate attack.

His fingers, his lips, his hands, his tongue—they all meld together, the sensation of his touch overwhelming in the very best way as he rolls you onto your back, his weight shifting as he presses himself down upon you, bare skin brushing against the silky softness of your nightgown, teasing the hardened nipples underneath.

Then his mouth is on you again, hot breath fanning across your chest as his head dips lower, lips and tongue working in tandem to caress your pebbled skin through the fabric of the nightgown you’d purchased just for him on his last birthday—the one he always handled with such care as he tore it off you.

You adore the feel of the hard muscles and planes of his back as your hands explore his body, your delicate fingertips tracing his freckles and birthmarks and scars. You can feel the strength of him in every tiny movement, the quiet power and agility that so many underestimate, the vigor that turns you to a puddle every time.

His touch is gentle as he continues to move downward, his massive paws gliding dark blue silk upward to lay you bare before him—for a brief moment, you remember the scrap of matching blue lace still lying in the drawer where you’d abandoned it last night, much to your husband’s evident delight.

And then his face is buried between your thighs, teeth tugging at the fragile skin he finds there as those calloused fingertips dig into the meaty flesh of your upper legs, spreading you wide for him to devour. He’s all soft lips and warm tongue and hot breath as he explores every inch of you, that button nose that you so often press kisses to nudging and teasing you in just the right places.

His touch in this moment has you seeing stars, your hips bucking upwards as you feel yourself cresting the waves of pleasure he’s unleashing within you. You bury your fingers in his honeyed locks to steady yourself, your heart beating double time inside your chest as you sense yourself drifting further and further away from the shore, lost in this whirlpool of his creation. But then his fingers are lacing through yours, holding you secure. Anchoring you to him. He’d never let you slip so far away that he could not find you.

His touches don’t cease as you ride the wave of your high, his hands firmly wrapped around your hips and his mouth still on you as your back arches off the bed with a soundless cry, salty tears streaming out your eyes and into your hair, pulse racing, skin hot to the touch.

He’s holding you again, his lips featherlight once more as they travel across your collarbone, his work-roughened hands grasping your legs until the trembling finally subsides.

His touches whisper, I love you, I love you, I love you. I’m here. I’ll never leave you.

Taste.

You can taste yourself on him when he kisses you, a sharp, tangy flavor that you’ve never quite gotten used to. But on his lips, anything can taste like heaven. 

As you tangle your fingers in his mussed locks and kiss him back, you try to pick out all the other flavors on his tongue—the faint hint of spearmint from the toothpaste he’d used to brush his teeth before bed, the barely-there taste of his peppermint chapstick, the slight saltiness from the sweat he worked up between your legs. They all blend together to form a flavor that is so distinctly him. You wish you could bottle it up and keep it with you forever.

His kisses taste sweeter than honey and get you drunker than any cocktail at The Hard Deck ever could. You could happily spend all your days like this—forgoing food and water for the rest of time so long as you could feast upon these lips that you love so much.

The rest of him tastes just as sweet as you mimic his kisses from earlier, your lips trailing across his jaw, working the spot just beneath his ear, then traveling down towards the dip of his shoulder.

Pressing him down into his pillows, you explore every inch of his body with eager lips, never tiring of the taste of his skin, still warm from sleep and flushed from exertion. And when you take him into your mouth, his hips jumping slightly as his hands find purchase in your hair, you swear you grow lightheaded for a moment at the musky, salty taste of him.

An act that you had once dreaded before knowing him now becomes the highlight of your morning as you use your mouth to bring him pleasure, the way he has done for you more times than you could even think to number. And where once upon a time you would have pulled away, now you welcome the explosion of him on your tongue, a mixture of salty and sweet that you couldn’t explain even if you wanted to.

But you don’t want to. Because this? This is just for the two of you, and no one else. You’re the only one who gets to know what he tastes like.

It fills you with a sort of giddy sensation, the flavor of both of you joined together on your lips and tongue. You kiss him again so that he can experience it, too, this blending together of the pleasure you find in one another.

His tongue is gentle in your mouth, moving with yours in a dance that your body knows all too well.

The taste of him tells you, I am yours, and you are mine. Always.

Sight.

He’s beautiful. He’s always been so beautiful.

As he grabs you around the waist and pins you down to the bed once more, hovering above you, you have a chance to admire the way the morning light comes streaming through the gossamer curtains, bathing him in a warm, golden glow.

Cerulean eyes gaze down at you, rivaling even the bluest of seas, and the love glowing in them is enough to send your world tilting on its axis and then turn it right side up again.

It’s taken you so long to truly embrace the way he looks at you, as if you yourself had climbed up into the sky and hung the moon and stars. 

He’s been looking at you that way since the very start, but your instinct has always been to hide, to duck your head or avert your gaze—anything to escape the intensity of such undeserved adoration. But ever so slowly, as he’s worked to put the broken pieces of your heart back together bit by bit, you’ve found that you’re no longer so afraid to look into those stunning baby blues and accept the love that you find there.

And now, as you lay caged between his strong arms, you gaze unabashedly back at him, the unadulterated devotion brimming in his eyes mirrored in your own.

Looking up at him, it dawns on you—not for the first time—that everything about him, from the top of his head all the way down to his toes, is beloved to you. That golden brown curl that falls across his forehead when his hair, usually so immaculately kempt, is tousled from sleep and the sweep of your fingers. The crinkle around his eyes and the roundness of his cheeks as he smiles at you, those soft lips of his curving upward into a grin that could only be described as angelic despite the devilish things he does to you. The way his skin turns a faint shade of pink, as if even after all this time, he’s bashful about the way your body fits against his just so. That button nose that you can’t help but boop whenever you get the chance.

You reach up to trace his face with a gentle hand, slowly brushing one finger down the slope of his nose and outlining the bow of his lips.

If there ever came a day when you were robbed of the ability to stare at his precious face, you wanted to have every inch of it committed to memory.

He feels the same. You can tell from the way he caresses you, fingertips dancing across your skin as he touches your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your chin. His glasses are still resting on the bedside table where he left them last night, but you know he can still see every bit of you, his gaze as intensely focused as the lasers he locks on mission targets.

His gaze screams into the early morning stillness, You’re my entire world. I don’t know what I’d do without you.

Smell.

His scent fills your lungs, fills every available crevice within you until all you can breathe is him. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Even after two showers, the smell of jet fuel still clings to his skin, a fixture as permanent as the freckles sprinkled across the back of his neck. It’s a part of who he is, embedded in the blood that flows through his veins. You think of all the times he’s apologized for it, but you like it—even when he’s gone, it lingers on his pillow, a reminder that a part of him will always be with you and that he’ll be back in your arms soon enough.

Jet fuel blends with the woody scent of his body wash, an aroma that you inhale deeply as you bury your face in his neck, your bodies writhing together in a slow, lazy dance as his need for you grows more apparent with each second that passes.

You can actually smell it, the thick scent of desire that hangs over the room like a cloud. Even with the window partially ajar, the early morning breeze lilting through the curtains, it’s a powerful aphrodisiac, making your own need all the more acute.

As his hand trails downward and dips between your legs, you gasp quietly into his mouth, hooking your leg around his as his expert fingers bring you to the brink once again. And yet much too soon, he’s pulling his hand away and smiling at the little noise of protest that you make. He reaches up to grasp your face in his hand and press a kiss to your nose, and you can smell yourself on him. It gives you a little thrill, this thought that you’ve marked him for yourself. He is yours and no one else’s. No one else will ever know this part of him, the part of him that he saves just for you.

And no one else will know you the way that he does. He’s marked you, too, the scent of him heavy on your skin. You hope that it never fades away.

When he stretches his body over yours, fitting himself inside you the way that only he can, your breath and your bodies mingle together as one, and the fragrance of your lovemaking permeates the air.

It says, The rest of the world is gone. It could all fall away right now, forever, and it wouldn’t matter because I have you in my arms.

Sound.

His breathing is heavy in your ear, his panting punctuated by soft grunts and groans of pleasure as his hips roll in tandem with yours, filling you up as he whispers against your skin how beautiful you are, how precious you are to him, how much he loves you.

It’s like a symphony, every noise he makes, every word he whispers music to your ears as your own sighs and whimpers harmonize with his.

No one else could ever make your body sing the way he does.

No one else could ever draw those sounds from him the way you do.

He’s holding you tightly, so tightly, as he loses himself in the sensation of your body, your body that’s gripping him so intensely that he has no choice but to cry out in ecstasy, his moans echoing off the walls of your bedroom and rivaling the yearning coos of the mourning doves outside your window.

You’re crying out, too, his name falling from your lips over and over again in a breathless rush as you cling to him, your arms wrapped securely around his broad shoulders. You know that you’re not going to be able to last much longer.

From the labored sound of his breathing, he isn’t either.

You whisper in his ear that you’re close, that you’re about to fall apart for him.

He captures your lips with his own and whispers back that he’s close, too, that if you can just hold out a few seconds longer, he’ll be right there with you to accompany you into oblivion.

And so you do. You hold out just long enough until he’s practically sobbing your name, and then you tumble over the edge as well, the sound of his name reverberating off the walls until the two of you are lying still in the afterglow, panting and gasping for air.

You can hear his heart beating inside his chest as he collapses on top of you, still inside you as he nuzzles against your cheek, pressing lazy kisses to your jaw.

Running your fingertips up and down his back, you relish the magnificence of this still, slow morning and the beauty of the man you get to share it with.

All of it—touch, taste, sight, smell, sound—is such a glorious reminder of what it is to be seen and known and loved in a way you never would have thought possible before him.

“I love you, Bobby,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his sweaty forehead.

Bob smiles at you, his hands coming to rest on either side of your face as he kisses you tenderly, admiring the way the light skates across your skin. “I love you, too, sunshine.”

[princessbrunette]

kinktober : oct 8th

modern!anakin x choking

this is so bad i hate it

the first time you’d asked anakin to choke you, he said no.

well, not specifically. you were on your back, laid out bare for him with his body slot between your legs, hips rolling languidly against yours as he slowly massages his tongue over your own. it was so intimate, unable to stop the whimpers and whines from leaving you with his open mouth pressed to yours. you’d pulled away to moan, but missing your mouth he’d gently tugged your face back to him with a hand on your jaw.

you liked how that felt.

his big strong hand clasping you like that, the threat of roughness behind a tender moment, the casual dominance. you pictured his hand travelling that little bit lower and squeezing your neck the same way, and you clenched around him hard.

“you feeling good baby?” he coo’s, feeling you flutter around him. shakily, your own hand comes up— resting over his much larger one. through your own pleasured haze, you apply some pressure and drag his grip down so he’s lightly holding your neck.

“please choke me.”

you look so fucking good, and god does he want to — wants to grip you by the neck and use you for leverage to fuck, saying all kinds of nasty shit, and yet… he worries. anakin is an overthinker— and his worst fear is hurting you. with the potential of this happening presenting himself, he moves his hand away, replacing the touch with his lips instead.

“you telling me what to do?” he teases, and leaves it at that.

the two of you finish up, and he spends the next half an hour comforting you — the post orgasm haze making you feel a little more fragile and embarrassed.

“i’m sorry.” you offer meekly into his shoulder as he cradles you on the bed. “i shouldn’t have put you on the spot.”

“baby,” he sighs, pulling your face away to hold it in his hands. he looks at you like you hung the moon and stars yourself and you just feel… bad for even making a deal out of it in the first place. “i don’t want you to feel like you can’t ask for what you want. wanna make you feel good, yeah? it just caught me… off guard. and i don’t really know what i’m doing.” he chuckles, a comforting hand smoothing along your spine. “don’t wanna hurt you.” it comes out muffled into your cheek as he places a kiss there.

that’s the last time it gets brought up.

but one thing about anakin, is that he’s attentive. obsessed with detail and competing with himself, always wanting to be performing the best that he can be. whether it’s at the gym, or work — he has to be constantly pushing himself to be the best he’s capable of, and this extends to the bedroom. if there was something that could be making you feel even better, you bet your ass he was all over it.

after some extensive research on how to correctly choke someone without killing them, he pockets the knowledge and waits for the opportunity to arrive— and soon, it’s presents itself in the form of a particularly rough session, after you’d begged him to fuck you hard and deep because you needed what you referred to as a ‘factory reset’ after a hard week.

so there, you found on yourself flat on your stomach with your boyfriend mounting you, clutching a pillow like it’s your life line. the white material was stained from your mascara, anakin fucking you so deep that all you could do was sob and take it.

“just needed me to empty that pretty little head, hm?” he hums in your ear, hot breath warming the side of your face. his words make you clench hard, and you drop your face into the sheets to muffle your mewls.

from instinct, anakin lifts your head off the sheet to make sure you’re breathing and getting all your pretty noises out loud and clear— he does this by holding you by the neck. once holding you there, he gently squeezes the sides, testing the waters.

you let out a sound so heavenly, he has no choice but to do it again.

“hows that, hm? you tap me twice if you don’t like it, yeah?”

“mhm, okay ani!”

you clamp down, feeling a little lightheaded and completely at his mercy — this alone, had you spiralling towards your orgasm. you lightly hold onto his tattooed forearm, almost in disbelief that he was finally giving you what you craved.

“just needed to get choked out by your big strong boyfriend huh? poor baby, so messed up.” he grins ear to ear, watching you come undone all over his cock.

requested tag! : @hanasnx @jellydodger

[modern-gremlin]

All of You | Lance - SDVE (Stardew Valley Expanded) MDNI. 🔞

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Pairing: Lance (SDVE) x f!reader Word Count: 6,334 (whew...) Warnings: Smut (basically porn with plot lol), talks of rough sex Tags: Established relationship, oral (male + female receiving), rough sex, creampie, little bit of fluff

SYNOPSIS Lance wants to have get rough in bed but doesn't want to take it too far, not until you give him permission to. A/N: Y'all, this is my first fanfic and of course I did smut as my first. :')) I’d appreciate feedback bc I wanna get better, but please be nice (im fragile) Listen, when I first played Stardew Valley Expanded, I KNEW I was just down bad for Lance. I absolutely simp for those pixels. This turned out to be WAY longer than I anticipated but oh well, I think I like how it is. Also, thank you so much @neet-elite for responding with writing tips. Your response really gave me the inspiration to just get up and write something I like. I appreciate you!

Before you knew it, you were getting railed harder than you've ever been railed in your life — let alone from your usually sweet and slow, doting boyfriend. It was only a week ago that you even broached the subject of rough sex; the culmination of late-evening pillow talk. Sex with Lance wasn't dissatisfying, in fact, it was probably the best you've ever had, you think to yourself. He is simply good at everything he ever attempts, and sexual endeavors would be no different.

Lance has a way of making you become undone. Planting kisses on your neck, trailing down your body until he reaches the wet spot between your thighs. Then he gauges your reaction; studies the way you pant heavier in anticipation, whine and shuffle your hips closer to his face until you're practically begging him to drown in you. Only then will he go in for the plunge. Lapping up your wetness like he's starved, lightly humming as he licks your clit. He slowly teases your wet cunt with his calloused fingers before shoving them deep into the part that makes you see stars. He always has to have you cumming at least twice before he even thinks about getting himself off. That's the way Lance is, that's just his routine.

You love that about him, always selfless and he always thinks about you first. It's a rare brand of kindness you don't often see in others, but he's particularly and lovingly considerate of you. It does, however, leave you wondering how you can be considerate of him. You hate to be a skeptic, but his kindness makes you wonder if he sacrifice his own needs to prioritize yours. It's something you've seen all too often, but Lance is never the type to complain, not explicitly at least. After finally getting together a year ago, you've learned a lot of his little mannerisms. His eyebrows cross slightly when he's confused, his shoulders tense to a specific position when he's stressed. Learning his habits gives you a sense of comfort and domesticity. So, you've taken from his playbook and began to study his reactions, and it was through this you've discovered something in particular.

Likely a result of his training, he never acts out of turn. Always the gentleman, he lets you set the pace and only lays his hands on you when you give explicit permission. This surprises you a little, honestly. While he's never been foolhardy, he always struck you as unwaveringly confident; an incredible flirt. He's a man who trusts his instincts and he's hardly every wrong in trusting them. So when he looks at you longingly, waiting for your permission to ravish you with his hands, clearly eager but hesitant, it's a little unexpected.

He always reassures you that he enjoys having sex with you when you ask, which is almost good enough to fool you. Clearly, you can see he enjoys it by his eagerness to go for another round and how easy it is for you to get him hard again. But something in the pained look on his face, maybe the furrow of his eyebrows or the regimented movements of his thrusts, makes you feel like there's something wrong.

These kind of thoughts have a funny way of eating away at you. And this thought in particular has been eating at you for a while now, until your worries spills out of you one night you've decided to keep him company at the Outpost. After exhausting scouting days, you've made a habit of keeping Lance company through his night watch duties. Though, you're likely more of a distraction than an aid but he doesn't mind it all. Nestling close to you in bed makes the cold stone walls of the tower feel like home, a concept he had a hard time defining until he met you. You find the same comfort in him, so naturally, your inner thoughts aren't kept secret from him for long.

"Lance?" you ask as sweetly as you can muster in spite of the obvious pit in your stomach. You wait for his response, counting the stone slabs across the ceiling while lying on his linen sheets. "Yes, my love?" he replies in reassuring tone — he's all too familiar with your anxious tells, though you're not sure what gave it away this time. "I want you to answer me honestly, even if it's not what I want to hear. I just genuinely want to know." You were just filled with so many questions, which soon turn into (rather irrational) assumptions. Maybe he's secretly unsatisfied with your relationship. Maybe there was something you did to upset him that you were unaware of. Just questions, questions, and more questions.

Despite quickly becoming his closest confidant since you've met him at the Caldura, it still feels like there's an air of mystery around Lance. He keeps his cards close to his chest, most likely for your own good. He lives a life of danger, and he doesn't want you in the crosshairs. But truly, you don't care. You're hopelessly in love with him. You'd rather dive head first into his life and be beside him, no matter where he stands. Besides, it's not like you're a stranger to the perils of adventuring yourself.

Your thoughts race fast as ever, and before you can go down another mental tangent, he does as he always does and brings you back to earth. "Of course. You have my word." He places his hand to your face and strokes your cheek with his thumb. "Ask away.” A weak smile forms on his face in an attempt to encourage you. "Are you...happy with me?" you feel your shoulders tense at your own question. He looks at you incredulously, mouth open, prepared to assure you, "You make me so happy, I mean i--" "It's...not that I don't believe you when you say that. In fact, I mean more like... are you s-satisfied with me?" you ask sheepishly. He furrows his eyebrows slightly, thinking of a way to ask you to clarify. "If you don't mean satisfied in happiness, what do you mean? Satisfied, in what way?" His question is earnest and borne from genuine curiosity, but it still makes you nervous to elaborate further. You fiddle with your fingers until you speak up once more.

"As in...sexually? I figure you enjoy it at least a little, otherwise I'd imagine you wouldn't be so eager to have sex with me as much as we do. But I have this feeling that maybe, you're holding back in some way? And if so, am I doing anything wrong?" You scan for answers within his purple eyes, but before long you're distracted by the way his face is illuminated by the dim lamplight. He truly is a beautiful man. If it weren't for the way you stare at him admiringly, you wouldn't have noticed the flush form over his tan skin. "N-no. I promise you, you have done nothing wrong. You are such a light in my life and I never want to take what we have for granted." He reaches to grab both of your hands and cups them between his own. "It's just — I have…rather-" Uncharacteristically, he stumbles over his words. It's your turn to reassure him now. You bring his hands to your cheek, your hands still cupped within his. "You can tell me."

He folds at your sincerity. "Well, sex with you is...fantastic. Truly." he states as the flush on his face deepens. "It might be selfish of me, but I love that there is a side of you only I can bring out. A part of you that is mine and mine alone." He looks into the distance, smiling lightly at memories of your earlier trysts. His words trail for a moment as he tries to collect his thoughts until you bring him back to focus.

"But...?" you gesture. He sighs deeply then continues your train of thought, "But there is... something. It's not dissatisfaction; not at all. It's more like... restraint." "Restraint?" You issue back.

He adjusts himself to sit upright against the headrest of the bed. "I've always been warned to be aware of my strength in my training. Whether it be in magic or in combat... Control is key. Otherwise you risk unnecessary danger. It's an ingrained rule when you're a member of the First Slash." His eyes dart towards to you, gauging whether or not you understand where the conversation leads. You shift yourself up to match his position against the headrest and look back at him curiously, which prompts him to continue.

"When I'm with you, I feel myself losing that control. I feel this need to completely... consume you. I don't want to hurt you or be selfish in any way. I hoped it wouldn't be so obvious, but I should know better than to think anything gets past you." He huffs a breathy laugh and gently places a comforting hand upon your thigh. You take a moment to take in his words before feeling profound sense of relief. You're relieved that his restraint isn't from something wrong you're doing, rather, it's about what you're doing right.

"So, what you're saying is...I didn't do anything to bother you then?" you ask, looking for confirmation. "No, far from it. Simply put, you drive me crazy in the best of ways." He lets out a light laugh to conceal a relieved sigh; as if a weight has been lifted from his admission. "Simply put, you want to go rougher on me? Is that it?" you retort back cheekily, mimicking his earlier tone. He laughs a bit louder this time, his thumb gently traces up and down movements against your thigh. In a teasing tone, you press him further on the matter, "Hmmm, I'll take your silence as a 'yes', then." You enjoy playfully pushing his buttons from time to time, but you genuinely to know what's on his mind. The flush on his face returns when he gives you a simple nod. A bashful Lance is a rare sight, so you can't help but grin at how coy he's being.

Clearing his throat to continue, "That being said, I don't want to hurt you. Ever. I don't think I would, but I-" "Let's do it, I know you won't hurt me," you say while interrupting his train of thought. Your eagerness causes his eyes to widen, slightly moving his hands to cover his erection that grows from your words. You're usually the one to be flustered by his brazenness, so you take much satisfaction at how the tables have turned this time. Your agreement clearly has him a little riled up, but he's doing as you observed again: he's eager but hesitant. You move yourself closer into him, prodding him to make a move. Swallowing thickly, he clears his throat to finish his thought, "I just... wonder if maybe I do lose control, I'll reveal a side of me that you're not familiar with. I don't... want to show you a side of me you didn't sign up for." His smile is a little more nervous now, but as he tries to avert his face from yours, you catch his chin and face him towards you. You drop your teasing tone and look into his eyes; you need him to know you mean what you’re about to say wholeheartedly. “Lance, you don't need to hold back from me. I've signed up for all of you. I mean it."

For a moment he just stares at you with the utmost love and admiration. He thinks himself to be one of the luckiest people in the world, lucky enough to have the privilege of loving someone entirely and have that love be returned. This admiration of you slowly turns into desire as he takes in the weight of your words. "All of me, hm?" He slyly retorts with a hum and half-lidded eyes. Staring at your lips, he leans in for a kiss. You press back at him, mouth open to take his bottom lip lightly within your teeth. The delicious sting on his lips causes him to moan into your mouth. His hands trail down your arms toward your waist, pulling you closer to meet the warmth of his chest.

Everything about him is intoxicating to you. The rumble of his voice, the smell of cedar and incense on his clothes, his familiar touch are all equal parts comforting as they are arousing. You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss before pulling away. Looking into his eyes once more, forehead pressed to his, you give him an answer that quells his fears, "Yes. All of you."

The night's anxieties slowly dissipate with every touch you lay on each other. Both of your hands desperately trail each other's bodies; desperate to unearth any secrets left between you. Lance finds grip upon your waist to move you on top of him and you eagerly oblige. Your chest presses against his while you savor the taste of his lips, straddling the already-hard bulge beneath you. Every dive into each other's lips grinds you ever so slightly against his clothed cock, causing him to furrow his eyebrows and moan into your mouth. His moans are like an invitation for you to continue, the kind of invitation you’d never refuse. You grind your hips against his length, wetness from both your slick and his precum seeping through the clothes that separate you. In this moment, you could swear he’s Yoba themself by the way you pant and moan his name over and over again like a prayer. The friction of your dripping pussy rubbing his cock is so deliciously arousing, you nearly get lost in the feeling. But while you're in your lustful daze, Lance swiftly rolls your onto your back to assume his position over you.

His sapphire eyes now stare directly into yours, but this time they're darker. Almost wild, like an animal in heat. The sheer look of complete desire in his eyes causes you to bite your lip in excitement. He stands over you, breathing heavily. There’s that hesitation again, you think to yourself. You can just barely see him ease out of his intense gaze, only for a moment to gain enough composure. "By the gods, you're driving me crazy. Are you sure absolutely sure about this? You must tell me if I'm going too far," he says through ragged breath. You prop yourself up by the elbows to land a kiss on his lips again. "I will tell you if you're going too far. But I know you won't hurt me, I trust you."

You lean yourself flat against the bed once more and you unbutton the top of your blouse, revealing the lacy bra that's hidden beneath. You return a similar gaze back at him, staring intensely into his eyes, hoping to reignite the fire within them. His heart is beating out of his chest and he swears you can hear it, based on how your breathing is perfectly in rhythm to his. You desperately want make every part of him yours, and all of you, his. And your body responds to this want before your brain could keep up. Like a primal need that came to the surface, you instinctively press the front of your wrists together and obediently offer them towards him. “I want all of you, Lance. Make me yours."

This was the coup de grace; the spell that lifted the seal on whatever was left of his self-control. With one hand, he grabs your wrists and pins them over your head. The other holds your face in place for him to land a devastating kiss, his tongue exploring the inside of your mouth. The intensity of his movements makes your skin tingle, sensitive to every touch. His weight above you is both comforting and restraining; he’s holding you down as if you’d float away the moment he lets go. Kissing you like he wants to devour you whole, sucking the air out of your lungs until you’re lightheaded under him. You’re already so love drunk that your eyes close, allowing you to sink into the pleasure. Suddenly he pulls away to cusp your face again as a way to grab your attention. “No, no, look at me. Keep your eyes on me.” His sudden movements shock your eyes wide open to meet that same, animalistic gaze. He wants you so badly, there’s no doubt in your mind. The thought makes you smile at him, catching your bottom lip with your teeth.

He takes deep satisfaction in the shift in your facial expression. “You’re so perfect. So good to me,” he says with a mixture of pure love and pure lust in his tone. His speech is low and drawn out now, still holding your face in his free hand. “So good. So obedient.” He frees your wrists and slowly trails your neck with his mouth, leaving marks wherever visible, hoping to deliver on his promise of claiming you as his. His prize, his woman, his pretty little slut, and his wife if you let him.

He continues to plant spots of red across your chest until he’s stopped by the collar of your shirt, slightly unbuttoned from your earlier display. He claws at the buttons frantically to get it off of you as soon as possible. His movements are uncharacteristically imprecise, so much to the point he resorts to ripping the buttons off in his fervor. You’ll have to worry about your shirt later, but for now, you’re much too aroused by his desperation to care. You help him unhook the clasps of your bra and he discards it behind him. Finally, your breasts were freed and his for the taking.

Without hesitation, he grasps both of your breasts in each of his hands, grazing his thumbs over the sensitive peaks. You throw your head back and whine from the sudden stimulation only to be put over the edge by the sensation of his mouth lightly biting at your nipple. His tongue flicks and circles at your bud erratically. The sensation sends jolts through your body causing you to instinctually pull away. Before you can move, he catches you by your shoulder and holds you in place. “L-Lance,” his name escapes your mouth in an elongated moan as you’re overwhelmed by his tongue. “Stay put for me, love. Can’t let you get away.” He turns his attention to you other breast, licking and sucking on the bud while gently pinching the other with his thumb and index.

He only pulls away to free himself from his uniform. With a swift tug, he removes his top to reveal his muscular body. His skin looks beautiful in this light, smooth but adorned by light scars from his years of combat. You let out a deep sigh from the sight; it feels like you’re seeing him naked for the first time. You’ve seen it so many times before, but tonight his body was so painfully, incredibly sexy to you.

He isn’t faring so well himself. The act of taking his shirt off gave him just enough distance to soak in the full sight of you. Already with a lust-struck expression, huffing and panting from just teasing you, covered in marks he just freshly laid upon you. This sight alone is enough to make him nearly feral, he practically has to fight for his life to not immediately shove his throbbing cock deep inside you. He’s holding back, but not from fear this time. His concealed fantasies cloud his mind; the thought of ruining you, plowing into you so hard that his cock is the only thing you remember, and filling your perfect cunt to the brim with his seed. He’s determined to bring the love of his life down to the same level of depravity he secretly harbored since the day he first met you, and to do that, he needed to be patient. Even if his cock is begging to be buried to the hilt inside you.

Suddenly, he’s acutely aware of how tight his pants have become and decides to discard them as well. You watch as he hurriedly pulls the fabric past his ankles, instantly locked to his handsome form. Your eyes follow his V-Line to the clear outline of his fat cock, bulging through his boxers already soaked in precum.

Just as quickly as he dispatched of your shirt, he pulls off your jeans and throws them to join the rest of your clothes on the floor. You shudder at the cool draft of the room on your exposed thighs, emphasizing the mess of slick drenching your underwear. You've been naked around him countless times before, but the way he eyes you up and down makes you feel more than desired by him; it feels like you're the object of his obsession. His angel's pretty pussy is ready and drenched in front of him, lewdly displayed and eager to be fucked. If only you knew how badly he wants to ruin you in this moment.

He leans forward to match his face to yours, his tongue grazing his teeth looking at you with a cocky smile. "Look at you. Do you know how wet you are?" he questions almost condescendingly. Before you can respond, he quickly sneaks his hand under your panties and drags two fingers across your cunt, picking up your wetness to show you. "See? So wet for me and we've only just started." His touch makes you convulse and whine his name, like you're begging him to give you more. He knows you need him so badly, and your cunt is already so wet he could slide his fat cock into you with ease. But he as other plans. Just a little more, he thinks to himself. Just a little more.

"You want me, darling? Do you want me to make you feel good?" He says as he licks his fingers clean, feeling a high from your taste. Something about his teasing attitude and his refusal to give into your usual tells has you at your limit. You place your hands gently on his face with a pleading look in your eyes. "Please, Lance," you beg through ragged breathe. "I need you so bad. I'll be good, just-- Please, fuck me."

He has you right where he wants you. He has you feeling as hungry and desperate as he is whenever you're alone together. He stares right into your soul, like he's hypnotizing you to do his bidding. "Show me, then. Be good for me and get on your knees." Without hesitation, you drop yourself to the stone floor, knelt in front of him as he sits on the edge of his bed. You're obedient, waiting for his next command because you'd do anything to have your sweet release. You'd do anything satisfy the deepest parts of him. With a smile, he plants a kiss on your forehead as a reward for your compliance.

"Good, now take them off," he orders as he gestures to his boxers. He lifts himself to give you room to take his boxers off and you pull them in one quick movement. His cock springs free upon its release and gently smacks against your face, smearing precum against your forehead. In this position, you realize how big he really is. So girthy and long; it's no wonder why he makes you feel full to the brim when he's inside you. The weight of his erection resting on your face is oh so tempting, you just have to take a taste. You drag your tongue against his balls all the way to his wetted tip. Lance throws his head back, leaning on his arms to ground himself from the earth-shattering sensation you've provided him.

To think, this man who's known for his well-studied vocabulary is now whispering profanities under his breath. "F-fuck, not too h-hasty, hm?" He feigns confidence even though his stutter reveals how truly whipped he is by you. You know you could make him fold to your whim if you kept going despite his attempts to slow you down, but tonight, you want him to have you exactly as he wants to. So you pout up at him, looking almost apologetic for your impatience. Once he regains his composure, he grabs the base of his cock and presses it further onto your face. "Let me see your tongue, darling. Stick it out for me."

You stick your tongue out close enough to his leaking cock that you can basically feel the heat radiating off him. And without warning, he slaps his cock several times on your tongue before easing it into your mouth to the back of your throat, coating it with his precum. The speed in which his girth fills your mouth takes you by surprise, so much so you almost pull away but Lance's large palms cradle the back of your head, preventing your escape. The feeling of his fat cock in the back of your throat borders on uncomfortable, but the feeling of his shape clearly articulated in your mouth makes your pussy leak onto the floor. He holds you there until tears well in your eyes and quickly pulls away when he notices them falling onto your cheek. For a moment, he looks down at you with panic, wondering if he had gone too far. He'd feel so guilty if you hated this, and feels even more guilty that he finds your tear and saliva covered face so frustratingly hot. But then you clear your throat and meet his gaze with grin plastered on your face, drool still dripping from your lips. "You like it when I choke on it, hm?" you say in a slur of words, already cum drunk. He looks back at you, returning your grin and lets out a shallow laugh.

You stick your tongue out again, ready for more. As he buries his cock into your throat, he's completely overwhelmed by the warmth of your mouth and your unabashed acceptance of him. He's so grateful to see you smile at his roughness and he's prepared to reward you in kind. His pace is slow at first, pulling out until your lips meet the base of the head, just to shove it deeply to where it belongs. He only starts to speed up when you grip the back of his thigh with one hand, the other gently massaging his balls. The sensation of it is all too much to bear; the shallow fucks into your throat nearly makes him cry from pleasure. If he were to look at you now, watching you take the whole of his length through your pretty lips, he knew it'd be over for him. As a renown warrior, his endurance would usually easily outmatch any opponent, but right now, he could burst in your mouth right this instant and coat your throat in white. He grits his teeth and groans your name with every thrust, just barely holding onto his bearings. He could probably die happy if he were to force his load down your throat right now, but he realizes there are much better places inside you for his seed to go.

He was dangerously close when he pulls out of your mouth. A string of saliva still connecting your mouth to his cock. Sweat dripping off his brow to land on your face beneath him. Only now does he notice your absolutely fucked out expression. Your eyes are half-lidded, high off of his scent and taste. The grip of his hand on your hair tugged on a primal need you didn't know you had. All the while, you rubbed circles around your clit so rapidly that it left a puddle on the floor. To Lance, this scene was a work of art; he had to pause to take in every detail so he could replay this moment for the rest of his life.

Taking your cheeks in his hands, he pulls your face into a deep kiss. "You're...so beautiful," he breathily praises you against your lips. "You've proven yourself to me. Now, let me be good to you." You can barely speak in your aroused state, all you can muster is a weak nod and a "Yes, please." You surrender yourself into his arms as he lifts you to lay you back on the bed, spreading your legs to position himself in between. For a second, he looks down at how completely soaked your panties are — how they stick to the skin of your cunt so perfectly that he can make out its entire shape through them. Pulling the cloth to the side, he slaps his cock against your puffy clit, causing the both of you to whine and groan in unison. He stands at the threshold, on the precipice of completely entering you. You think he’s teasing you by the way he rubs his cock on your slit, but really, he’s teasing himself. You’ve given him something valuable today; an unrestricted exploration of his deepest fantasy with you. The night feels like it lasted an eternity and matter of seconds at the same time. How could his fantasies be happening so quickly? He prods at your entrance, hoping to prolong the experience. You can tell his own patience has reached its end by the way his face unabashedly scrunches in desperation. This is the moment you've both been waiting for all evening, ready to face your absolute high. "Are you ready, my love?" he asks while licking his lips. You nod enthusiastically and beg, "Yes, Lance. Please. Please, fuuc-"

Before you can get the words out, he grabs the fat of your thighs and quickly slams his cock into your tight hole until it hits the deepest part of you. Waves of complete and utter pleasure wash over you, causing you to arch your back and roll your eyes to the back of your head. Your mouth opens to whine but his size knocked the wind out of you. Just seconds ago you were empty, waiting eagerly for his touch and now you are filled entirely by him. He rests himself inside your convulsing pussy, already milking him dry despite the fact neither of you are moving. You’re too overwhelmed by his intrusion to notice there’s tears running down Lance’s face. All the years of experience under his belt go to shit the moment he enters you, and suddenly it’s as if he’s a virgin again. He’s just so goddamn in love with you, he needs to bury himself deep enough inside you so you understand how much you mean to him. He needs to fuck every doubt that you’re not perfect for him out of your mind. He remembers what you said earlier, and decides he wants to do the same. Tonight he’ll have all of you.

Right from the start, his pace is punishingly fast. His little game of teasing you has long been over and now he's ready to fully consume you. Sounds of sex fill around the room — the slamming of his thighs against your ass as he plows balls deep into your cunt over and over again. The squeak of his bed threatening to give way at the tenacious rhythm of his thrusts. The sound of your leaking pussy making a mess of the sheets below you. The lewdness of it all rings so deeply in his ears that he, himself, can’t contain his grunts. Nothing else in the world matters except his angel beneath him, screaming his name as he fucks her to ecstasy.

The sight of you now is more alluring than anything he could have imagined. He watches the way your pretty cunt obediently takes every inch of his cock as it disappears inside you. You’re covered in marks he left on your body, your tits violently bounce to the rhythm of his thrusts, and to top it off, you’ve been whimpering his name nonstop since he plunged inside you. He loves the way he completely occupies your mind now — a physical confirmation that right now you’re his alone. All of this is deliciously perfect, so he knows it’s greedy of him to want more, but he can’t stop. He can’t stop until you’ve creamed on his cock. Not until you’ve taken every drop of his cum inside you.

He pounds into you again, again and again, relentlessly until he feels your cunt clench tighter around him. You can’t think straight, not when he bullies himself against your cervix like this. Your convulsions are a dead giveaway you’re close and he’s determined to shake you to your core. His pace not letting up, he uses one hand to rub quick, circular motions against your clit while the other has a bruising grip on your waist. “Come on love,” he coaxes you with ragged breath, “Cum for me. Cum on my cock… you’re so fucking tight, please-“ and finally, sweet release. Your back arches again as you feel yourself reaching your peak, tears rolling out of your eyes. He slows his pace to fuck you through your high, almost pulling out fully before thrusting deep strokes into all the spots that make you burst.

He stays inside you as you come down from your orgasm, leaning forward to wipe the tears from your face tenderly. “You’re so beautiful, darling. Hold on just a little more for me, okay?” he says softly, “Just. A little. More.” thrusting in between each word. It’s still not enough for him but he’s oh so close. Leaning himself upward again, he grabs your wrists in each of his hands to pull you deeper onto his cock. Ignoring the fact you just came and resuming his tempo. Your pussy is just too good for him to stop now, he still has to reward you for obedience today.

And reward you he shall. Like a good slut, your cunt squeezes and pulls him back in, pulling him closer and closer to his limit. Closer to claiming you, closer to marking your insides with his cum and making you his little wife. Your glazed over, fucked out eyes meet his as pounds your messy cunt harder and harder. He can hardly make out your ramblings over the sound of his body pounding into yours, but when your words finally register, it sends him over the edge. “I love you so much. It’s s-so fucking good. It’s too fucking good” you mumble shakily. Everything about your demeanor screams for him to impregnate you, to fill you your grateful pussy to the brim until it drips out of you. His movements are getting sloppy now, fucking as deep as your cunt will let him. The relentless pounding sends you back into a frenzy, as if your first orgasm prolonged itself enough to reach another high.

He’s absolutely about to burst from the way your pussy clenches around him again. But before he does, he pulls you forward by your wrists so you have a perfect vantage point of where your two bodies connect, watching how his length disappears into you. “Look a-at us. Look how you well you take it for me. Now take all of me, okay? I’m gonna…fucking…fill y-“ he couldn’t even finish his sentence before he bullies fat cock the back of your cunt and spilling his seed right against your cervix. His words are caught in his mouth from the immense pleasure; all he can stifle are loud groans and some semblances of your name in gravelly whispers. Warm semen filling your spasming cunt, shoving his cock in small rocks of his hips as if to prevent any of his seed from escaping. He releases his grip on your wrists to collapse on top of you, lying flush against your body, still spilling spurts of white into you.

You wrap your arms around him to pull him closer and rub circles on his back. Both of you are panting messes from the night’s intensity, but the afterglow makes it so worth it. He coils an arm around your back and nestles his face into the crook of you neck. Only then is he able to speak breathily against your skin, “I…love you…more than you can ever imagine.” Your eyes dampen at his sincerity and you whisper I love you’s while running soothing fingers through his red hair. For a moment the world is completely silenced — only the sound of your tired voices occupy the spaces in your mind. In this space, only you and Lance matter.

Once he finds the strength, he pulls himself up only enough to bring your face into view. “Thank you. For accepting me, for giving me something to call home,” he says as he presses a kiss to your forehead. You take his face in your hands and press your lips to his, hoping your gratitude can reach him through your action. Because truly, you are grateful. So grateful to have met someone who encourages your ambitions unapologetically. Someone who never aims to control you but support you when you need it. Someone who loves and sees you first. You’re so overwhelmed by gratitude, you nearly cry into his arms.

You’re comforted by his familiar touch, stroking the side of your shoulder with his thumb. This moment is both so incredibly special and completely ordinary at the same time. Because this is how you always feel around him, so special, so full of love. You didn’t flinch once at Lance’s words before the night’s activities started, not at all, because that feeling of wanting consume him is all too familiar to you. If he’d let you, you’d have him for the rest of your life. With a smile, you hum into his ear before you whisper, “Thank you for being mine, thank you for everything.”

He replies with a simple word, but you hang onto its weight like a promise, “Always.”

[strawberryys-stuff]

FOOLED || Ao'nung x Sully!reader

part 2 | part 1

change of plans; i'll have to write yet another part for this request bcs i realized i can't write lmao 🥲 i forgot how to do it, so i apologize for this never-ending wait i'm putting u through

enjoy my poor try to write!

Ao'nung could tell the image of the breathtakingly stunning healer was clouding your mind and found your abrupt bursts of frustration whenever she waved at him with a toothy grin decorating her sparkling turquoise skin quite humorous, attractive even.

Mireya was certainly a beauty among the Metkayina tribe but she was fragile. Your sharp glares and silent growls damaged the unguarded shield around her gracious heart, which forced her feet to carry her sobbing frame inside Ao'nung's marui pod every evening. Despite his warnings and frequent eye rolls, Mireya continued to visit the boy who was clearly becoming irritated by her unannounced appearances outside his home.

He was desperately trying to peel her hands off his muscular arms everytime you were passing by with your sisters, allowing his thick tail to show his annoyance. He would gift you precisely wrapped presents almost every week to reveal his tiny attempts to court you - it started with shimmering seashells that eventually turned into luminescent bouquets - but it was never enough for Mireya as she continued to follow him around like a lost puppy.

Ao'nung wanted your undying love, not hers. He even mentioned it to you during your nightly strolls along the shore, stating that he would rather suffer in solitude than experience mating with Mireya, who basically owned his mother's blessing.

Ronal wished only the best for her firstborn and saw rich, successful future in the Metkayina girl. And the fact that you managed to build an unbreakable bond with Ao'nung in such a short period of time was something she just refused to accept. The idea of seeing Ao'nung with a hybrid, someone who had pure demon blood flowing through their veins, disgusted her.

She observed the way her son seemed to be left breathless everytime you walked away from his tall figure after a polite farewell, which often ended up with Ao'nung chuckling and firing some teasing words after your swiftly moving body. She even caught the way her son spoke highly of you during every dinner, lunch, breakfast - you name it.

She noticed how affectionate her eldest child was whenever he had you by his side, how protective he was over you - she noticed how you were able to handle his childish behavior with ease, no evident struggle present, and yet, she still refused to accept your relationship.

"I am not having this type of conversation, mother." Ao'nung pinched the bridge of his scrunched nose, silencing his growl in deepest part of his throat before it managed to roll off his obnoxiously bold tongue.

He was standing in front of you, shielding your defeated spirit from his stern mother with his lean body. His other hand was keeping you close alongside his tail that robbed you of any escape. Ronal was holding her chin high to display her disapproval once more, but all she received from her firstborn was a disappointed sigh.

Ao'nung brought your intertwined fingers up and proudly pulled you out from his cold shadow. Your drastically different form entered the afternoon sunbeams and blinded Ronal for a split second. Your thin tail was flickering nervously behind you as she inspected the position you were in.

It was awfully obvious what happened during the unusually uneventful eclipse last night, she could sense the abrupt change in the middle of her ribcage - you were officially sharing a neural connection with her son.

The woman began to circle the two of you with a creased forehead and allowed her fingers to wrap around the base of your tail. You hissed through clenched teeth when she left a painful tug behind before her hand moved to your tense shoulders. She spotted a bite mark in the crook of your neck, stifling a snarl.

"Not fully mated." She slapped your precisely knitted braid aside and received a warning growl from your lover. "Just marked," Ronal taunted with a huff, quickly placing one of her hands over her growing belly when your tail twitched her way. "Disappointing."

"That is enough." Ao'nung bared his fangs at the pregnant woman as his hand pushed you forward to create some space between you and his mother. You licked your chapped lips and let your ears fall, trying to ignore her harsh words about your mixed blood and the title people had been using to address you and your younger brother for several years. "She is not an outcast, mom! Quit listing her differences, for Eywa's sake! She is a fucking Metkayina now, accept it!"

"Her rites of passage are unfinished," Ronal reminded her son with a click of her tongue, ignoring his usage of the inappropriate language. "She is not one of us-"

"-yet." Ao'nung interrupted her upcoming remark with a growl and temporarily released your hand to point to his mother's rapidly beating heart. "As for now, I need you to respect my partner - whether you like it or not."

Before the spiritual leader could interject, your furious mate captured your hand once again and dragged you away from the cold-hearted woman, muttering an apology to his younger sister who had to witness the conflict. You bowed to Tsireya quickly and followed Ao'nung out of center of the lively village with flattened ears.

part 3 coming soon! i'm so sorry 😭

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

the boy is mine (H's Version)

hi, no long no see in this fandom. but @carolmunson put out a call for writers and I wanted to dive in! see her prompt: here.

It's a romantic night in and that means that sometimes a lot of feelings come out.

Eddie Munson x Gender Neutral Reader

CW: This is a lot of fluff, but some minor heated moments. Post S4, cannon divergent.

______________

The day was boiling--no breeze to cut through the stiff air. But now, as the evening settles, the curtains from the open windows billow just a little. The air is a whisper on the back of your neck as you bring your knees up to your chest. The notebook slips down just a little on your thighs, but you push it back up to get the right angle. Eddie will undoubtedly have a snide remark about your position, but you know the moment he settles back down on the couch, he too will be curled up. Most likely around you, and you’re praying the night gets just a little bit cooler to withstand the walking furnace that is Eddie. 

“Fuck me,” Eddie groans. 

You look up from the work you’ve been doing in coloring in the drawing Eddie sketched out earlier in the day to find Eddie frantically swinging open cabinet doors. He opens another door, without closing the other. Disaster flashes before your eyes. Stitches, a bloody puddle on the floor, should Eddie not be careful and--

Thunk! “Son of a bitch!” Eddie howls, holding the back of his head. In all his hurry, he popped up from the cabinets at the bottom only to smack his head on the corner of one of the open cabinet doors. 

“How many fingers am I holding up?” you call out with a giggle. 

“Looks like 16,” Eddie calls out, eyes narrowed in a squint. There’s only four fingers up. 

“Hmm, I think you’re fine,” you laugh but push up off the couch. There’s the slight shuffle, the almost silent peel of feet off the tiled over kitchen floor. Part of it due to the whatever waxy cleaner you’ve convinced Wayne to use. “Let me see,” you command gently after your approach.

“Careful now, I’m fragile,” Eddie pouts but pulls hand away from the spot. 

“Gonna need a flashlight to get through this thicket,” you tease but gingerly touch at his scalp. There’s nothing damp so you don’t think there’s blood. Eddie tenses under your touch. “Sorry,” you whisper. It doesn’t stop the assessment, but you are more mindful of the pressure you’re using. 

“It’s okay,” Eddie returns his voice soft like yours. 

“What are you even looking for?” So far, you don’t think he broke skin. One good thing, but you are a little worried about something deeper too. 

“A cup. I could’ve sworn I did dishes,” Eddie huffs. “I’m running out of, like nice cups.” You watch Eddie point to the plastic cup on the counter--ones that you’re pretty sure were holding some sort of soda from a gas station in their first life. “Those are the only ones left.”

“Honey,” you coo, urging Eddie to turn around. He doesn't budge, but you press into his back, right above his hip and he turns then. “Those cups are fine.”

“No they’re not,” he sighs. 

“And what makes them not okay, huh?”

“You deserve your Coke in a chalice. Not the 7-11 trash.”

“Perhaps I consider 7-11 cups a chalice,” you return, pressing Eddie’s cheeks together. His lips bubble at the force and you plant a kiss on them. He tastes vaguely like vanilla. The frosting off the cupcakes you two shared earlier still paints his lips sweet even though it’s been a couple hours since they’ve been consumed. 

“You know you don’t and so do I,” Eddie whispers against your lips. His hands find your hips. 

“Hmm, I think I could be convinced.”

“You sure they’re okay?”

“Cups won’t ruin the night, I promise.” 

You don’t need anything fancy. You never have. But you get it. You know Eddie’s always going to want to give you the best. The thing you just wish you could convince himself off is that it’s his best that matters. Whatever Eddie gives you is the best because it’s him--it’s him giving it to you. But you don’t think the words will penetrate. Eddie’s hard headed in his own way, stubborn to his core when he wants to be so you hope that actions do speak louder than words. 

You seal your lips around his again and hum into the kiss when Eddie tugs you in closer. He’d promised a night in--dinner, movies, laughs, anything and everything as long as it was just the two of you. And he’d delivered thus far. Pizza had been called and delivered promptly. When you asked if he had any more Cokes from the case you brought over a week ago, he proudly declared he’d left the last two just for you. Your requests for a cup is what started this, but cups don’t mean a thing when all you’re thinking about is how the scent of Eddie presses against your nostrils and into your lungs like heaven. 

You’ve missed him--missed this. Your new job took more time than your old one. Not a bad thing considering that it was only an extra hour, but it meant having a new routine. It meant one hour less in your day for you to get through the slog of laundry, and dishes, and bills, and errands so that you could sit like a schoolgirl on the phone, twirling your fingers around the cord to talk to Eddie on the phone when you couldn’t visit him. Weekends now are more sacred than ever and you cherish the thought of being able to spend quality time with your boy. 

Eddie’s fingers press through the cotton of your shorts. He tugs you closer, and closer, and closer to his body. He’s warm--as always. But beyond that, beyond the wild curls that always call out to your fingers to be tugged on, or just caressed, Eddie is real beneath your fingers. Through the cotton of his t-shirt, you know what lies beneath. But you are grateful that the t-shirt is still warm. Arousal settles into your stomach, tightening your muscles as Eddie drags his fingers up your spine. But you pull back, the wet echoing smack of a broken kiss hanging between two of you as you both pant. 

“If you don’t stop, we’re going to have a problem,” you laugh as Eddie’s teasing touch moves further and further south on your body. 

“Maybe I’m looking for a problem,” he teases. 

“I am looking for a cup to put my Coke in to have pizza with my boyfriend while we watch movies we’ve seen a billion times. Because you are trouble.”

“You started it,” Eddie squawks indignantly. “You kissed first!”

His hand doesn’t stop traveling. He’s cupping you over the shorts and the ache hits you--bone deep but you don’t falter in your resolve. “Pizza. Movie.” It’s all you say before peeling yourself from Eddie’s hold. “Bring the chalices please,” you call out over your shoulder as you walk back to the couch. 

Eddie snorts but you hear his shuffled steps behind you and you know he is following. The lid to the pizza box is flipped back and the melted cheese greets you with a hefty waft. You grab a slice, the cheese pulling slowly away from its neighboring pieces. Eddie grabs a napkin and holds it just under the slice which you can only assume is threatening to drip grease onto the carpet or your lap. 

“Three good things,” Eddie commands as he reaches for his own slice, asking for the details of three good things that happened in your day. 

You hum around your bite, the pizza still hot just a little as you recount the day. “I’m no longer on the probationary period at work as of yesterday which is great. No one’s breathing down my back anymore. I finally got those jeans hemmed. And I get to enjoy pizza with my boyfriend. Three things--your turn.”

“I got the interview for the record shop,” Eddie starts. “I actually finished a drawing, speaking of which, I swear if you get grease on it,” he laughs pulling the notebook from your lap and tossing it floor away from the coffee table. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you rush out. “I’m still working on coloring it though. Forgot.”

“No harm, no foul. And lastly, I, too, am getting to enjoy pizza with my lovely partner, who did not do such a great job at making sure I wasn’t concussed.”

“I’m newly licensed to sell insurance. I am not licensed to make sure you’re not a walking threat to your own safety.”

He presses a kiss to your cheek--wet and greasy, but you don’t shy away from it. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Oh, I know,” you laugh, turning to look at Eddie. His gaze is soft, big eyes dripping with sincerity. You think you can feel the adoration radiating off him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I love you, you know.”

Your first inclination is to shove it off with a joke. But you can imagine how well that would go--not well at all. “You’re going to make me blush,” you huff, ducking your head. 

“Aw, no, don’t be like that. Let me see it. Let me see you blush,” Eddie laughs, reaching out to bring your head up by a gentle tug on your chin. 

Your face is hot; you can feel it warming the longer Eddie takes you in. His gaze is intense, eyes taking in everything from hairline to chin. You watch the flick of his gaze, as he stares down at your nose, back up to your eyes. His smile is soft and sweet, like the stroke of his thumb over your bottom lip. 

“I’m going to make you proud,” Eddie whispers unlike his normal bravado. Where you know Eddie carries himself with the mask, the loud and brash man unafraid, the quietest remarks are the ones that usually send you into a flatline. 

“You should make yourself proud,” you correct. You’d be a flimsy goal--something akin to trash billowing in a strong wind. It could change all in an instant.

“Making you proud makes me proud.”

“I’m already proud of you.” 

It’s Eddie’s turn to duck, hair falling into a wavy curtain around his face. You discard your crust--which you’re more than likely never going to fish--to a corner of the box and find Eddie’s face behind his hair. “No, you can’t hide either.” Your thumb strokes along his jaw and his eyes flutter close. “Tell me,” you return softly but it’s clear you want an answer, “Do you like that? Being told you’re making someone proud?”

“And you’re telling me you don’t?” Eddie scoffs. 

“Oh, no, I do. But I just want to hear you say it.”

“I like being told I’m making someone proud.” The sentence wavers at first, like Eddie might not be sure he can even get the words out. But the end is strong. Like the mere utterance is enough to solidify the truth within. 

“I’ll make sure I tell you more often then, okay?”

“Okay.”

His gaze drifts down and you know what he’s asking for, so you press in, lips sealing his again. A kiss soft enough that even you think twice if it’s real or not. Eddie hums this time, when you pull away, his head pressing into your shoulder. You can feel the smile on his face as his lips brush over your bicep. 

“Your slices are going to get cold,” you tease when Eddie stays buried in your shoulder for another minute. The third slice you’d been reaching for will go cold too, but that matters much less. 

“Let it,” he hums, burrowing now in your armpit. 

You grab the TV remote before you reach behind yourself to make sure the throw pillow is in place against the arm of the couch for an added layer of cushion. Once you’re sure that it’s in the position you want it, you recline back and open your arms for Eddie to crawl into. He wastes not a second to settle his head onto your chest. 

“Good thing we’ve got microwaves now, right?” you tease, pressing play for the VHS.

[moonstruck-poet]

Soft Spot

Pairing - Severus Snape x platonic!reader, Wolfstar x daughter!reader

Summary - Severus Snape, the sworn enemy of Sirius and Remus Lupin-Black maybe does indeed have a soft spot for their only daughter.

Warnings - teasing, bullying

Requested by - @roselilasstuff Hope this is good enough and thank youu<33

It was early morning, the rays of the sun just peeking over the lush green mountains to shower the world with warmth. The golden light clashed with coppery-brown irises, making them look like pools of melted honey.

You smiled from your place on top of one such small hill overlooking the gorgeous, crystal blue lake of Hogwarts.

Half an hour more, you muttered to herself. Thirty minutes more till a new school day will begin, till the Great Hall would be filled with the chattering of students, till you would once again be the object of non-stop staring.

You sighed bitterly. Five years had passed but to no avail. Every year brought new students who proved to be worse than the previous ones.

"There you are!" George Weasley's voice broke through her inner turmoil as he came sauntering towards you, slightly breathless.

"Morning George," a smile replaced that resentful frown. "What brings you here this early in the morning?"

"Nothing just wanted to talk to you," he grinned suspiciously making you narrow your eyes at him. "Come on," he urged and you let yourself be pulled by one of the few friends you had successfully made.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Got a new one scarface?" Pansy Parkinson, a measly third-year yelled as soon as you set foot in the Hall.

You rolled your eyes, keeping them straight while making your way towards the Gryffindor table. But suddenly it seemed as though millions of eyes were burning holes on your neck, right where you had indeed gotten a thin but long scar.

"Five points from Slytherin, Ms Parkinson," McGonagall said sternly and shot a sharp glare towards the younger girl who merely scoffed before smirking.

Sitting down at the table in your own secluded corner, you piled up your plate with whatever was within reach, not bothering to ask anyone for some syrup or jam.

Your eyes flitted to your timetable to check what all classes were awaiting you and you smiled amidst a huge bite of bacon. There was double potions today and in spite of it being one of the most hated subjects, you were proud to have excelled in it.

So as soon as the clock sounded, signalling the start of classes, you wasted no time in swinging your backpack on your shoulder and darting out of the hall. Your fellow classmates too followed your lead, not wanting to face the wrath of the Potions Master at the beginning of the day.

The dungeons were always particularly cold, so a black leather jacket, obviously a gift from your dad was snug over your frame, providing a great comfort. However your Papa's sweaters would always be the best, not that you'd tell the former about that.

Grinning at the thought of your parents you pushed open the door and sat in your allocated places which was not favoured by the others who wanted to sit with their best friends. Though you didn't seem to mind as you always worked better alone.

But maybe luck was indeed on your side as you had gotten a pretty good benchmate.

"Nice to see you smiling," Cedric Diggory laughed and sat beside you, taking out his textbooks and keeping them neatly on the table, his action mirroring yours.

"Why thank you, Ced," you chuckled back but then winced as your cheeks stretched, leading to a burning sensation from one of your fresh scars.

The Hufflepuff looked concerned but you shook him off, giving him a tight smile. The last thing you wanted to for someone to overhear and start a rant about how delicate and fragile you were.

The doors suddenly slammed shut and in strode Severus Snape, black robes billowing dramatically as he walked towards the board and flicked his wand.

The class watched in silence as instructions began appearing of the potion they were supposed to brew today. He then turned around swiftly, his dark beady eyes scanning every face to spot any shenanigans but thankfully every person was focussed.

"Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: The Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation," he spoke, his voice barely above a mutter but it was carried evenly throughout as the class listemed with rapt attention.

"Be warned, if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing," Snape paused and upon receiving several nods he gave them an approval to start.

Everybody immediately hustled around to grab the ingredients, but it was all done in a systematic way thanks to the presence of a teacher who you wouldn't ever want on your bad side.

"Alright then should I get a ingredients and supplies? You're much better at this than I am," Cedric scratched his neck with a shy smile and you nodded in reassurance.

"Yep that'll work, thank you".

After an intense amount of time along with the passing of several strange incidents, it was time to stir the potion seven times both clockwise and anticlockwise and then allow it to simmer.

"Five, six, seven.. done," Cedric muttered and then checked his watch for a timer of exactly seven minutes. "And now we wait".

You sighed and pushed your slightly moist hair away from your face, "Now we wait".

The boy beside you suddenly went rigid and you looked up quizzically to only get the reason for his stiffness.

Snape was now taking rounds through the classroom as the potion was to be ready soon enough and you too looked at him nervously as he scanned your cauldron with narrowed eyes.

But then to your surprise his eyes actually softened and his hardened face relaxed. Cedric was nearly jumping with joy on receiving a nod from the teacher which most certainly was one of the highest forms of praise you could get from him.

"You must add the hellebore now, lower the flames and then allow the potion to simmer for exactly seven minutes," Snape's sharp voice snaked through the soft chatter. "If brewed correctly, the potion would emit a silver vapour".

"Godric have mercy," you whispered and lowered the flames while Cedric put on the timer and you both held your breaths, burning holes in the cauldron.

"Time's up!"

There were many mixed reactions, but a majority were definitely unhappy with whatever the hell they managed to brew. It certainly did not look like the draught of peace or even close to it.

You two simply stared as slowly silvery grey fumes were coming from the cauldron and gour face stretched wide in a triumphant grin while he bounced slightly on his feet, feeling so elated that he pulled you in a victory hug which you were more than happy to join.

Unknown to everybody else, the Potions Master allowed a small smile, or actually a slight twitch of lips to escape his stone cold persona. He was undeniably proud at the not so small achievement on one of his finest students. Yes, one of his finest.

He had trouble admitting it to himself but after all it wasn't fair to judge someone based on their family. He had experienced that first hand and was now making an effort to be a more decent person.

Atleast in the case of you. Speaking of Harry James Potter, that was a much bigger problem seeing as he totally loathed that child.

"Five points to Gryffindor," he muttered under his breath when you submitted the vial filled with the perfectly brewed concoction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[theseshipsshallsail]

A quick little fic in celebration of Armie Hammer's birthday.

Forever our Oliver ❤️

GOOD THINGS COME TO THOSE WHO WAIT

Elio drags his thumb along a lightly muscled calf as he skirts the edge of the bed, receiving a muffled grunt when he scrapes his nails against the ticklish sole of Oliver’s bare foot. It’s hanging over the side of the mattress, reeling him in with every dream-fuelled twitch, and Elio’s self-restraint is a fragile thing at best. 

He’s been wide awake for thirty minutes - long enough to curse the yowling tom cats in the courtyard below - but if he has to suffer the indignities of seven a.m on a Sunday morning, then so should the man who’s lying there looking like temptation personified.

A soft moan captures his attention, and the dark fans of Oliver’s lashes reveal bleary eyes blinking up at him in the warm light of dawn. The sheets are pooled around his waist - kicked off restlessly at some point in the night - and Elio can’t help but smirk as he bends at the waist, running the tip of his tongue from Oliver’s heel to his arch, laughing at the helpless jerk of his hips.

“Buongiorno, amore mio,” he says, wrapping his favourite tie around Oliver’s left ankle before securing it to the wooden frame. The arctic blue always turns his gaze smouldering, and the contrast against his lightly bronzed skin is equally striking when he drops to his knees in humble worship. “I hope you don’t mind me starting without you?” 

“Starting…” Oliver trails off, and Elio can pinpoint the exact moment he realises his arms are similarly bound to the headboard. “My God, you’re insatiable.”

“And here you are reaping the benefits,” Elio murmurs, nipping at the spot above his Achilles tendon as Oliver lifts his head to watch. “To the victor go the spoils, sì? Lucky for us, in this we’re both winners.”

“Tease.”

“If you insist.”

Oliver groans as if wounded, but Elio notes his eyes are closed once more, his fingers curled around the paisley bindings at his wrists. 

“Touch me.”

“What’s the magic word?”

“Now,” Oliver drawls, a study in debauchery as he arches his neck, pale cheeks flushed with desire.

Despite his words, though, Elio knows what he truly wants. 

What he needs. 

And it’s not for him to rush this, no matter what his sleep-rough voice demands. 

The shiver that follows Oliver’s spine electrifies his own, so Elio slides the cotton sheets out of the way then rests his chin upon his gently rising stomach, nuzzling into the golden hairs that lead down to his groin. 

They have all morning, after all, and as Elio places a lingering kiss to Oliver’s naval - fanning the flames that simmer between them - he intends to make the most of every hard-earned minute.

[hanzhen0506]

please write first time with hanjin 🤍

~’First time’~

Hello! Its Zhan! Thank you so much for requestinggg, I would like to remind you that I’m not really experience in this Genre but I hope this satisfies you. If any of you are uncomfortable, I suggest you to not read this 🙏. Thank you for reading this and I hope you enjoy!

Warning: Smut! P in V, protected sex, you are responsible in reading under this!

The sound of the door unlocking indicates Hanjin arrived home, so you wash and dry your hands and going to the front door, greeting him. “Jinnie!” You said jumping on him, leaving startled but able to balance himself while holding you. “Hi baobei! Miss me?”

“Mhm, how was your day?”

“Tiring, we’re all still practicing for the title track.” You got down from his hold and help him out on taking his jacket off while he took out his shoes. Tws’s first comeback is getting nearer, so spending time with Hanjin was getting harder, so you want to make the most out of this. “Then we should rest now hm?”

“Thats sounds great y/n-nie” You grab his bag and took his hand in yours leading him to your bedroom. “Im glad you can sleep over today, go wash up okay?”

“Thank you for letting me sleep here.” He said kissing your forehead and going to the bathroom to clean himself up.

You were waiting Hanjin on the bed scrolling on social media until he enter the room, hair wet with a towel around his neck. “Baobei, could you dry my hair?” You giggled at the side and tap the spot infront of you. He sat facing you and look down to give easier access to dry his hair. You took the towel from his neck and start to dry his hair and ruffle it to tease him. It seems, innocent right? On outside yes but Hanjin seeing you with your silk sleeping wear dress, he couldn’t help but think naughty things about it. He blushed at the thought that it reaches his ears and you noticed. “Is everything okay?” You ask, stopping what your doing.

“Nothing!”

You look at Hanjin closely as he sigh. “Your just really pretty,”

“Ohh” You blush at his confession but smiled. You reassures him with a peck on the lips. “Thank you Jinnie~” You then kissed with Hanjin for a long time. He was tense at first, but then eases as he holds your head deepening the kiss. Your mouth slightly open as Hanjin took it as an invitation to enter his tongue in, you moan at the action and change position, situating yourself on his lap while still not breaking the kiss. He grabs your thighs with his other hand and gently put you down on the bed properly. You always love what Hanjin does everytime, but the best one is when he holds you so gently like you have a fragile body. And although you guys have make out a thousand times, today is much different. Without his conscience he start to grind on you, which startles you and moan. He trailed his kisses to your chin and neck, sucking on a spot that makes you moan.

“Hanjin-“ You yelp grabbing his head, but he thought wrong and thinks you want to pull him back so he then pleaded. “Im sorry, Im sorry!” You whine at the lost contact while he moves back. “Why’d you stopp?” “I-I thought you want to stop?”

“Noo, please Jinnie, I need you.” You pleaded looking at him. “Fuck, you look so cute like that. Take off your clothes for me baby. Do you have a condom?”

“On the beside drawer,” You pointed while taking off your your dress. He hurriedly open and took out the condom and when he looks back at you, you were already naked. He smiled and leaves pecks around your neck and face. “Dont worry, we can go slow.” He said pulling your panties off and stimulating your clit. “Hanjin.. Pleasee I dont need prep.” You moan out.

“I dont want to hurt you though~”

“Its fineee, I wont get hurt, just pleaseee. I need you in me right now.”

“A-alright then.” He hesitated, taking off his sweatpants and wearing the condom. He situated himself between your legs as he kisses you, “This might hurt, so hold my hand.” He took your hand in his and start to enter you. You flinch at the size of his dick. It was big. You squeezed his hand tight as he continues to push himself in you. You scream at the pain, and yet the head is barely fitting in. He start to leave kisses on your face and said “Relax baby, I cant get in if you relax.” Continuing his action he pushed in more than an inch in and pulled out all they way. Pushing it back in more. “Is this alright?”

“Yes.” You said breathlessly, as he continues what he’s doing. After a few more, he was finally fully inside you and you moan at the pleasure. “Tell me when your ready.”

“I-im ready.” You said as he start to thrust into you slowly. You finally moan loud at the pleasure and on instinct, widened your legs. With the more space he given he starts to speed up, bros furrowed as he went back to your lips, kissing you hungrily. You moan at the feeling of his dick leaving and entering you but it wasnt enough to build your pleasure so you took your free hand and finger yourself. Hanjin took notice of this and took your hand and place it on his dick that is still thrusting you. With your clit needing attention. He uses his hand and stimulate it.

You scream loudly when his dick reaches your g spot and squeeze both of your hands. The feeling of one of your hand on his dick was amazing that he couldn’t help but broke the kiss and moan at the feeling. “Yes, just like that y/n, fuck I’m so close. Are you close? I love you so much y/nnie.”

You moan out an “I love you too” back in response and he sped up again to an inhuman pace. “Fuck!” You shouted and move yourself into him. The feeling of his finger stimulating your clit, his other hand squeezing on your hand. His tongue exploring your mouth and of course his dick in and out of your pussy was enough to reach to your pleasure. “Hanjin!” You said before reaching your climax and came. Hanjin soon joined you and came. With both of you reaching your high, you couldn’t help but kept squeezing his dick, milking him in the process. “Oh shit.” He said pulling out, feeling overstimulated when you milk him. He falls down on you and kiss your breasts. “Thank you baby, fuck that is the best sex I will ever have.” Hanjin said and you look down. “What do you mean ‘you will ever have’ This isnt gonna be our last one.” You confidently said and he blush. “Of course.” He peck your lips and lay down on your chest again as you play with his hair.

“Lets go clean up.” Hanjin said carrying you to the bathroom and placing you on the bathtub. Turning on the warm water and grabbing your clothes and towel while you relax and wait for him. “Join me,” you look at him and he giggled. “Alright,” Hanjin went on the bathtub and situated himself behind you, massaging your thighs and shoulders. Its crazy, how you both took each others virginity and yet could still talk about completely innocent topics like how can a rock be identify as a rock. But at the end of the night you were with Hanjin and that is all you could ask for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Please do not steal my works!)

[ticklystuff]

eeeee, if its alright, ler aether and lee scara, belly button (or neck either one works)⚡️

I hope youre staying hydrated and taking well of yourself 💕💕

-anon

request a ficlet!

hewwo anon thanks for the request! idk how to end fics tho lol

---

"Y'know you can always back out if you want to, right?"

Scaramouche rolled his eyes and scoffed. Why was he always so damn considerate, constantly feeling the need to put Scaramouche's feelings over his own, as if he were some fragile child. Even the way Aether's arms wrapped around his waist from behind to "trap" him was flimsy at best, allowing enough wiggle room for Scaramouche to escape should he so choose to.

"You've already told me that like five times now," he nearly snapped, his voice laced with irritation. "Quit stalling already, will you?"

"I just want to make sure you're okay," Aether responded, seemingly unfazed by the other's lack of patience. The way his fingers began to press into the fabric that barely protected his skin sent a shudder down Scaramouche's spine. Maybe this wasn't so good of an idea after all..

"No, I-I'm fine," he doubled down, pressing the heels of his sandals into the ground to brace himself.

"Suit yourself."

Scaramouche could barely contain the sudden gasp as he felt Aether's fingers begin to pull back the layers of clothing, reaching for their designated target. He began to wiggle in place where the two sat, Aether's arms now tightening without warning to keep him still. "W-Wait, Aether! Ah-! Wahahahahait! Nohohoho!"

"Oh! You are ticklish!" He didn't like the way Aether's voice sounded just now, as if the blond had just discovered an unopened treasure chest. His body lurched, legs uselessly kicking forward as his brain attempted to process the foreign and unfamiliar sensations that effortlessly overwhelmed him. The heat radiating from his cheeks were of an unknown degree, far from overbearing, yet just enough to keep his head warm with tingles. Giggles and squeals continued to slip past his lips with every second Aether's fingers gathered and spread throughout his skin, crossing each and every direction around his stomach. Despite the haphazard nature of his hands, Scaramouche failed to notice exactly where exactly Aether was headed for...

"EHEHEHAHAHA!" Scaramouche bounced in Aether's arms the moment one of his fingers dipped into his navel, sending the biggest shock yet throughout his body.

"So right here then?" Aether teased as the index finger of his other hand repeated the same action, forcing a strangled squeal from the other.

"QUIHIHIT IT! AHAHAHA!"

Luckily, the blond weaved his fingers away from that dreaded spot, giving the other's tummy a couple of reassuring pats. With the short bout of tickling coming to a close, Scaramouche slumped back into Aether's arms, attempting to mask the heavy breathing from his chest.

"Sorry, Mouchie," Aether said, nuzzling his forehead into the back of his head.  "Too much?"

"Obviously," he admitted with a bit of reluctance.

"Not all tickling is that bad, though." To reassure his point, what felt like Aether's lips were planted at the back of Scaramouche's neck, creating shivers that traversed his spine with each kiss.

"Ngahahaha," he couldn't help the giggles that began to flow once more, but there was something airy and soft about them this time, almost natural. Although he scrunched away from the kisses stacatoing across his neck, the tingles delivered to his head were light and brought along a different sense of warmth.

"You can tell me to stop whenever," Aether's voice spoke gently, pampering him with kisses upwards towards the back of his head now.

There he goes again, being so damn considerate, though, this time, Scaramouche was glad. He could get used to this form of care. Admittedly, it was nice, almost soothing, and Scaramouche failed to notice the hum in his laughter.

"Hey, you alright?"

Scaramouche blinked, suddenly realizing that Aether had pulled away. He craned his head to look back at the other, only to realize the smug grin plastered on the blond's face. "W-What?!"

"You liked it, huh?"

His mind went to war with itself as he figured out the best way to respond to that question, before settling for an unsightly scowl. He stood up, hastily dislodging himself from Aether's arms and looked down over the other with a huff. "Clearly, I was just tired out."

This didn't seem to convince Aether as the blond just giggled in response. "Whatever you say, Mouchie."

[adelheidvonschicksal]

GAHHHH THAT WAS MEEEEE IM SO HONORED THANK YOUUUUUUU~~~~

i haven’t been getting sleep so i can’t wait to read it once it comes out!!!!! thank you sosowosososo much <3333

YAY! Thank you for requesting! Here's a bit for you while you wait to help *w* I just keep having to stop cause coy Xavier is so AHHH, and I get all blushy thinking about it. lol

You’re curled up at his side, your head laying against his bicep and your free arm resting on top his lean chest, attempting to search for his always subtle pulse inside. You find the pattering easy to count and the warmth of the sheets much more apparent when he’s in them. The comfort of the situation causes your eyes to flutter with tiredness, but you want to savor this moment a little longer. So, you force them to remain open, releasing a soft yawn instead as you cuddle into his arm.

Too soon, you feel Xavier shifting further away from you.

“It’s getting late. I should go home.”

Groaning at those words, you lock your grip onto the thin white shirt he wears, tugging yourself more into his side. “Not yet. I just found the perfect spot,” you mumble into him; blissfully, you take in his scent, your eyes falling close when you realize how nice he smells.

“You always use that excuse.”

“And it’s always true. So, no moving,” you order.

With a soft shake of his head, Xavier huffs fondly at your antics. A waif-like smile crosses his features when he feels you press more of your weight against him. “I take this to mean you’re finally admitting it’s your fault we didn’t do our errands today?”

“I never said that,” you disagree half-heartedly. “Besides, you’re the one who wouldn’t let me get up earlier.”

“And now you won’t let me get up. Am I right? Why’s that?”

You’re not entirely sure when lounging around with Xavier became a regular occurrence in your life. People who knew you always said you worked a little too hard, a little too observant, overly energetic despite your fragile heart, but somehow you could relax with Xavier. Moments like these: when his arm was around you, when his breath was at the back of your neck, the soft words he speaks in his sleep dancing in your mind, were the moments when patrolling for wanderers and every loss in your life from your family to your problematic heart dissipated into the back of your mind for a few hours.

It isn’t an exaggeration to believe his influence must have been the cause, at least when it comes to this. But it's true that your influence is seeping into him as well. Given his loner habits when you first met and his frequent disappearing acts, you never pictured him as one to be so sweet and considerate and adorably charming in a way.

However, you can’t really tell him that you enjoy…sleeping with him. Though, you have a strong feeling he already knows how much you like him. It’s all but said. The only doubts are yours.

You shuffle aside your embarrassment. “It’s supposed to be cold tonight, and they say the best way to fend off the chill is body heat. Who better for that task than you, dear partner?”

“Many things, I assume, a portable heater comes to mind,” he says, and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s slyly teasing you behind that naive tone.  

“Right, right, those things,” you grumble causing him to laugh as you hide your bashful face against him. “So loud, you know?”

“Are they? Alright, then five more minutes should be doable,” he says in the same low voice that makes your insides boil before his arm lowers to curl around your back. “Although, you’re too comfortable,” he admits with a frown while the tip of his ears dyed rose with a blush. “I might end up falling asleep here.”

[archangeltwins]

Title: About Time Some Deliverance Is Due

Rating: Mature

Fandom: canon-divergence from NCIS: L. A., and my own headcanons

Characters: Charlotte O'Lear ( oc ) & Achilles 'Akhos' Laos

Triggering Content May Include: stalking, mentions of obsessive behavior, physical abuse and related injuries, violence, alcohol

“Achilles?” No answer.

“Achilles.” The winds from the mediterranean had turned cold, chilling Charlotte to the bone. A storm was approaching. Poor ventilation let a breeze into the building; a dingy, dilapidated thing.

“Akhos fucking Laos, would you answer me already? I know you’re in there!” Charlotte’s fist curled around her phone. Quick bodily shiver.

There was a moment of silence, then came a mumbled, groggy curse as the speaker’s own was lifted. Static crackled. A gruff tenor filtered through, ending in a yawn. “Char, it’s too damn early.”

“But A, just-”

“No. Not again.” He cut her off. No chance at bargain. “Supposed to be working?”

She hummed on her end, reply full of thinly-veiled snark. “Supposed to be answering the door, Mr. Laos? Refusing a guest is impolite.”

Goddamn it.

With a groan he rose, clad in shorts and sleeveless tank. The apartment he’d bought out was small. No luxuries. No affluent fixings. Alleys of native greece a good place to disappear. Running a hand through shortened thatches of dark hair, he paused to check the keyhole - one hand lax on the knob.

True to what she’d said, the brunette was standing in the hallway. He turned his head away, eyes falling closed for a mere second, the briefest of memories resurfacing.

No. This is not anything romantic. Something in gut told him otherwise.

Steeling himself, he banished it deep. The door swung open with a creak. Dim bulb above framed Charlotte’s face in a halo of golden light, backpack slung across one slim shoulder.

“Going to make me stand out here all night?” She teased, and he answered with a grunt.

“Considered it. Renault revoke your privileges?”

“No,” she says, sidestepping around him. Damn the lack of maneuverable space. And damn his tiny entryway.

He shut the door, lock clicking in place. “And that brought you back? Irony or coincidence?"

"Both.” Charlotte hardly glanced back when answering. Shrugging off her pack, it landed with a muffled thump. He arched a brow, arms folding over his chest.

“Elaborate?”

“Shadow’s haunting me again. He caught me in a pretty bad spot. Wasn’t deterred by the metal I flashed."

Akhos’ scowl deepened, a dark look passing over his features. Shadow was code for an especially obsessive ex from years back. "Went lone wolf because you thought it’d protect. Become anonymous. Didn't work?"

"No. It-it didn’t.” She finally admitted with a sigh, rubbing her nape beneath waves of dark curls.

He took stock of her reaction before striding to a kitchenette. Withdrawing two beers from the fridge, he tossed one to her. It was caught with ease. "Send in a report of behavior? Did he do anything to you?”

Charlotte hesitated, thumb circling the rim. Gaze downcast, no longer level with him. She chewed her lip. The cold prickled. Clock-ticks echoed. Silence was to be taken as an answer in most situations, but not this time.

“Char, did or did he not put hands on you?” came the dreaded question.

“A, it’s really none of your business - ”

The beer bottle came hurtling down on the table. Liquid sloshed, Akhos’ fingers tightened on the neck. His response was a growling bark. “It IS my fucking business! One day he’ll go too far and you’ll end in a ditch!”

Charlotte took to her feet, own bottle left unopened. Who was he to attempt a shot at any of her past choices? He had his own skeletons shoved in the closet.

Teeth were bared, masking a grimace. “I’m not some fragile flower, Akhos! I’ve bested others of our division! I am - I was - your partner! Your equal! You think I’ll break from just a few punches?”

“You’re slipping. You packed too light. You’re avoiding using core muscles to bend and sit.” He continued, motioning to the dirtied backpack. “Which means, you’re injured. I need to know where, and how severe before you fuck up beyond repair."

Damn him and his keen observances. Damn that ingrained intuition.

"Just, show me.” He said, leaving the table with one chair ajar. Not leaping to assist as his stubborn white-knightedness tended to make him do.

His expression was currently unreadable, leaving her wondering just what machinations lay beyond those calculatory blues.

But he cared. They’d changed from exhausted to attentive so quick it honestly spooked her. Must really hate injustice, or women-beating bastards.

Fingers curling beneath her shirt, she caved, lifting it high overhead. The discoloration drew Akhos’ gaze then, boot-shaped and peppering her stomach.

Bruises weren’t the only injuries. Stark red stripes had turned her into a human zebra, some oozing blood, cuts shallow. Non-fatal. Her jugular was ringed with blotchy pink, which he came to realize were handprints.

“Going to fucking kill him.” Charlotte heard him utter under his breath.

“Akhos, no. You can’t. You can’t and you won’t - ” She begins to protest, watching as he closes the gap. Hand lifting, his fingertips trace dark outlines across her ribs. Featherlight in evaluation, brows furrowed.

She sucks in a breath between clenched teeth.

“Thinking he could do this without consequence was first mistake. Taking frustration out on you will be last.” Akhos murmurs. Some are inflamed, and cause her to hiss at irritation. Any other time she’d push him away. The handprints are of least concern - not dark enough to bruise, light enough that they’ll fade.

“You’ve got two, possibly three cracks. And cuts - the type a switchblade leaves. Wanted you to heal, to scar. Carry reminders written in flesh.” He adds. “First aid kit’s in the bathroom - ”

“Narrow hall hugging kitchen. Ten paces inside and take a left.” Charlotte responds, with a pained grin. “I know, A.”

“Then rest, use pain relievers. No compression gauze. If you do get hungry, there’s microwavables.” He mentions, offhandedly waving towards the squat freezer.

“Sounds appetizing. Can’t wait.” She gives a hum of acknowledgement, interrupted by a wince. “What, not going to help a lady in need?"

"Distressed damsel? More afraid of you knocking me on my ass. Both know I’ll leave - whether or not you agree with methods.” He replies, downing what’s left of his beer.

“No gun. No knives. And no garrote, either.” Blossoming pain spread outward, adrenaline worn off.

Ten paces. This’ll be easy. One foot in front of the other, right? Drab beige wallpaper seemed to stretch, bright white spots dancing in her peripheral. Nausea twists her stomach in knots.

As she lets a shaky breath free, she faintly hears footsteps and then the door re-lock.

Well, damn. He did go.

"Asshole."

[ererokii]

Sooo... This request thing. You're aweosme 👉👈

Ooh boy it's a long one (changed it a bit)

-Erens so cute when he purrs and when you mention his curiosity and twitching ears ears and gentle touch, so as not to hurt the reader.

-when he kinda is paying attention to, analysing the reader or protecting them its SO cute

-It would maybe end as like cuddles and things and just... Talking. To him and him grunting or just nodding or thinking replies.

-Maybe be at night.

-Maybe it would start with... Eren In human form.

-Maybe he figures out that you don't think his titan form is so ugly but still a little new and scary and that maybe you like it

- Bam if you can somehow NSFW that... Uhmm?

So he... Turns into a titan and then. Some NSFW or just. Maybe he like. Scares or teases the reader on purpose for a reaction?

-And then NSFW somehow if you wanna put that in. Sorry for the way I type I'm kinda doing it as it all appears in my head lol

-I like your cute, and desperate eren, but also attentive and caring. I haven't seen you write a very cheeky or playful titan eren so maybe that would be nice.

I REALLY ENJOYED WRITING THIS ONE. Here you monsterfuckers, take your TITAN SMUT.

WARNINGS: MONSTERFUCKING. Oral (f receiving), mention of voyeurism, overstimulation, dumbification, multiple orgasms, edging, characters are 18+.

If these themes make you uncomfortable or you rather avoid, please block the tag “AOT SMUT” WC: 1.7K

Also thank you to the amazing @galair for this beautiful art🥺 everyone go check her out

Eren stays deep within his thoughts as he hums to himself, staring up at the starry sky. His loose strands tickle the shell of his ear, itching to scratch away at it but refuses. He can’t recall the conversation before the silence. It’s always been on his mind, but he’s been inquisitive as to what you saw him as, even if he knew the answer.

Am I a monster to you? Or am I just like you?

You knew Eren was quite insecure with himself when it came to his titan powers; no matter how many times he asked you that, you always gave him the same answer.

You were never a monster; you’re just a broken human like me. 

For some reason, that has never failed to put a smile on his face. Being able to categorize himself with humans made him feel complete, separate from the monster people used to call him when he discovered the powers. 

But know that he’s aware (once again) of how you feel, does he scare you?

Maybe he could ask you--, but he doesn’t want to ruin the mood at all. Now that he thinks of it, he can’t recollect a moment where you’ve seemed scared to be in his presence, unlike other comrades who look like they’ll leak themselves any moment. 

Without even thinking, he blurts out the question. His eyes widen slightly when he realizes the words slipped past his lips.

“Am I scared of your titan form?” you ask, glancing over at him as you sit up, staring down at him from your position. “I mean, it is always somewhat overwhelming to see something so much bigger than me, and when I sit in your hands but no, besides that, I'm not.”

“Do you think it’s ugly?”

“I don’t,” you say with a smile, legs crisscrossed. “I think it’s unique. You know, just for you. I think it’s quite cute and--” you trail off, glancing over to the side. “--somewhat hot,” you cough in between words, hoping he missed that.

“Hot?” he asks, a hint of smugness evident in his tone.” You think it’s hot?” he leans up on his elbows, a smirk curled at his lips. “Why is that?”

“W-Well, I’m not going to tell you that! That’s too personal.”

“What if I turned right now?”

“Y-You can’t! Captain Levi and Hanji would come to chew you out if you did!”

“Hanji gave me the go-ahead to transform whenever I wanted to, just not to cause destruction,” he gets up with a grunt, backing up a few feet back. By the time he was in position before you could speak, lightning struck the earth, the ground crumbling from the shock. 

You dug your fingers into the ground, lowering your head from the gusts of wind. In no time, it calmed down as you avert your gaze upward, emeralds stare down at you from high above, brown tresses swooshing in the air. 

“You did,” you breathed out, releasing your grip on the dirt. Your hands are unsteady, still trying to compose yourself from the sudden change.

He’s not moving, standing as still as a statue before he drops to his knees, the birds sound asleep in the trees now awake and flying away from the commotion. Your heart feels as if it could burst from the confinements of your chest. 

Your left eye peeks open, cowering within yourself. Your body freezes when you see how close he is. His body is lowered to the ground; knees pushed in like a Sphinx. His eyes glow in the darkness, a new feeling taking over your body. 

His heavy breathing fans over your face, his head cocked to the side as if he was examining your small figure. He finds humor in your expression, nudging your body with his nose.

From the small force added, it caused your body to get pushed back. His ears twitch, the tips sticking upward. He moves forward, doing it once more.

“Eren, quit it,” you huff, sticking your arms out to keep him from doing it again-- which he’ll end up doing too. There’s no doubt that in that nape, he’s having the time of his life. 

He wonders what else he can do like this. He thinks for a minute, noises emitting from his throat. He sticks one of his hands out, shakily raising a finger, and places his hands in between your legs. 

He catches your gaze, his tongue peeking as he leans forward, barely pressing the tip against the bare skin of your neck. The new sensation causes your breath to hitch in the back of your throat, eyeing the pink flesh before gulping lowly.

Eren pulls away, looking at your skirt that happened to ride up your legs. His eyes seem to darken as his mouth closes, teeth grinding against each other. 

“Eren?” you question him as he inches closer, his head lowering slightly to the ground. You’re about to call for him again, but his tongue makes an appearance also, pushing the material up more. Your eyes enlarge, fingers curling around the fabric of your shirt-- to which looks like fear in his eyes. 

A noise of somewhat sadness comes from him, his ears lowering. 

“N-No, it’s okay, Eren,” you stutter, face heating up from his motions. If you were honest, you could feel a small wetness pool in between your legs. 

Before you know it, the tip of his tongue is in between your legs, the muscle lapping over your clothed cunt. Your arms are shaky as you let out a little gasp that sounds so cute to his ears; he can’t help but circle it around your clit. 

A predatory look is in his eyes, looking down like you were his meal. The muscle goes sound, poking at your slicked entrance. Panting, you glance down at the position and pull your panties aside, shivering from the chilly wind and hot breathing in between your legs. 

His jaw slacked; he works wonders on your needy cunt. The texture and saliva are enough to make you sensitive on the spot. Your eyes roll back as you chant his name, his tongue licking stripes up and down your folds, squelching noises occurring from his rapid movement. 

Your legs are shaking from the overwhelming sensation. God, it’s becoming too much, but you can’t stop him, nor if you wanted to. You felt as if you would fall to the depths of the earth but yet stayed in reality. 

The tip flicks at your folds, an incoherent noise getting stuck in the back of your throat when he begins to move it side to side rather than up and down. 

You’re so needy for him at this point. You want him to stuff your tight cunt with his cock, to feel him stretch you out as he fucks you to no end. Having him do this to you was on another level of ecstasy, but you would accept it if this came up again. 

The pressure he puts on your fragile body is enough to send you backward, but the way your heels dig into the ground and his gentle touches prevent that from happening. The slick left in between your thighs trickle down to your ass; the feeling becomes uncomfortable but erotic. 

“Fuck baby,” you whisper, head falling back, staring up at the sky with lidded eyes. “Fuu..p-please don’t stop,” you slur, thoughts clouding with nothing but immense pleasure.

God, what if someone caught you? The adrenaline running through your body wouldn’t even let you care about that. But the thought of someone hearing you moan out pathetically as Eren licks away at your cunt, have you moaning out. 

You wouldn’t be surprised if someone overheard. Eren’s tongue was a gift that meant to be cherished, even if that meant having him do this every day for you to get used to the sticky yet warmth radiating from the muscle.

The inside of your legs trembles, your head spinning in circles, rubbing small lazy circles on your puffy clit, desperate to be touched by his tongue. Your hole was being circled, his tongue barely pressing before retracting; the little shit was teasing you. 

One of his fingers gently places over your leg to keep you from moving so much. His finger alone is enough to make you feel weighed down. 

Your lips are moving, but nothing is coming out; no noise, no words. You’re completely out of it. Your fingers are clenching and unclenching around nothing, barely holding onto whatever it was you were. If someone were to ask you what day it was, you wouldn’t be able to tell the time of day or where you were at. 

“ ‘M gonna cum,” your voice comes out soft yet needy, shifting your hips side to side, bucking your hips to the best of your ability. “I wanna cum on your tongue.”

His eyes flicker, a stripe licked up between your folds before resting on your clit-- a place that desperately needs attention. 

Your delicate body is on the brink of defeat; an orgasm after orgasm washes over your body, and he shows no signs of stopping. You’re practically gushing at this point, your juices running down his jaw. You’ve made many feeble attempts to push him away; a growl would emit from him when you tried to do so. 

Sweat trickles down your face into your clothes, causing the front of your shirt to stick onto your skin—short breaths of air, hiccups erupting from your throat. Your eyes roll back as your body finally gives out, falling backward onto his hand that was keeping you upright. 

As you fall, a purring sound reaches your ears as his tongue finally retracts from your mess cunt, his eyes glancing at your slick sticking to you. His finger rubs the inside of your thigh, gently wiping away the transparent substance. His ears flicker as he listens to your heavy breathing, trying your best to catch the air that was taken away from you. 

He lovingly nuzzles his nose against your patella, his dark tresses tickling your supple skin. After being pushed through multiple orgasms, you weren’t even sure if you could walk or get up from this position. 

But he finally got his answer as to why you thought he was hot. 

Taglist: @trafalgar-temptress @galair @shisoaya @eremiie @bakuhoesworld @sweetdanibear @blueelionn @grabakitcata @erenstellar @onyxoverride @vinishsama @cellarhapsodos @connieswifey @murmikaa (please message me to be added!!)