#anon:💋

[fear-is-truth]

(highest credits go to jackie for the hcs) ♥

Rodrick had a peculiar brand of charm, the sort one might find at the dregs of a gas station slushie cup--a weird blend of syrupy stickiness and watered-down amateurishness, made tolerable, even perversely endearing, only to those sufficiently starved for alternatives. But, you, his girlfriend, were such a beauty that your existence felt almost surreal, as though you had stumbled out of the glossy pages of a high-fashion magazine, and your every feature was made to arouse jealousy and awe in equal measure; and that golden laugh of yours--ah, it was the sort of sound that turned the medium, infusing the mood with a cheerful electricity that made mere closeness feel like victory. Naturally, then, the townsfolk, with their small lives and voracious appetites for speculation, were left lurching, confused by the mysterious alchemy that had paired such a bright, beautiful being with someone as unabashedly rough and, dare one say, dirty as Rodrick.

Rodrick, by any reasonable metric, was far from a catch. He was the drummer for a band so universally unloved, except perhaps the neighbor's dog, who mournfully howled every garage rehearsal. Personal hygiene, to Rodrick, was less a necessity and more a vague suggestion--one he routinely ignored, opting instead for such liberal applications of body spray that stepping in a ten-foot radius of him felt like inhaling pure chemical warfare; and then there was the bouquet--an arrangement plucked, not from some whimsical florist, but from the shady aisles of a gas station, its Cellophane wrapper stuck to the wilted carnations, their edges tinged with a dismal brown. "Flowers are flowers," he would shrug.

And yet, there you two were. You would attend his so-called "shows." And there he was, onstage, just a boy in comparison, clutching his drumsticks. After the racket had subsided, he would invariably come to you with a complacent grin, "Babe, did you hear how sick my solo was?" You would smile and nod with the grace of a queen humoring a court jester, though the only thing remotely "sick" about the whole performance was the bassist who sped across the stage and vomited after a heavy consumption of Mountain Dews.

Rodrick's idea of a date--if one could even dignify it with that term--was as depressingly predictable as it was bafflingly juvenile. A typical outing involved dragging you to the local mall, under the simulacrum of shared leisure, only to park himself in the electronics store, where he would spend an inordinate amount of time "testing" video game chairs. There you would stand, annoyed, arms crossed, in a plain flannel shirt, Levi's and Converse sneakers, while he contorted himself in a chair. The speciality of his romantic ineptitude came one afternoon when, in his infinite wisdom, Rodrick insisted you hold his milkshake--one of those thick, industrial concoctions made to clog arteries--while he attempted to climb into one of those monstrous claw machines, convinced that his "gut feeling" would make him get the giant stuffed cat inside. Naturally, this starry-eyed mission ended with Rodrick wedged awkwardly inside the machine's metal frame, his sneakers flailing. Security was called to save him, and you found yourself slipping to the nearest exit, pretending--quite convincingly--not to know the hapless guy trapped inside a carnival game.

Still, you stayed. Perhaps it was his awful jokes, or the way he would wink at you like an awkward schoolboy whenever he managed to land a cymbal crash in time with the beat; and then there was his manly--though foolish--attempts at intrepidity, the way he would spring into action, waving his sneaker like a clumsy knight exercising a sword, charging into battle against the dread enemy of all women: the spider. Of course, his aim was often off, the sneaker swiping air more than arachnid; but whatever it was--pity, fondness, or some strange gradient of both--you stayed.

Or perhaps, though one might never know for certain, it was the strange delight you found in watching him squirm--a cute, almost tragic scene--whenever you good-naturedly teased him: "Rodrick, what would you even do without me?"

His response was always delayed by a brief, confused pause, as if he had been struck by some sudden and hopeless crisis of self-awareness, and was inevitably the same: a nervous scratch at the back of his neck, followed by a muttered confession of incomprehensible gravity--"I dunno, babe . . . probably just die or whatever."

It was that delicious vulnerability, that endearingly pathetic submission to your wit, that seemed to work some mysterious magic on you; because, in the end, despite his awkwardness, despite his utter lack of politeness, despite his consistent failure to live up to any reasonable expectation of charm, that--his pathetic little submission--was enough; enough to keep you there, chained to this strange, pathetic guy who somehow managed to convince you, hardly trying, that he could not live without you. ⸺ 💋

this is like. one of the best, most mind blowing things i’ve ever read. 💋 anon, i need to know if you have a writing blog because YOU’RE SO DAMN TALENTED OMFG ?!!! and i haven’t forgotten the fics you wrote abt me (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

permission to write fics / headcanons based on this ?!!! your mind is simply BRILLIANT.

p.s : i only posted it until now bc i love reading it over & over it in my inbox.. but i figured that’ll be selfish lol

[sugarwarachan]

part two, you dirty birdies. go read this first to catch up! summary: A city-wide blackout leads to some questionable decisions on Eraserhead's part: for four nights in a row now, Aizawa Shouta has been watching you get yourself off. Is tonight the night he joins in? pairing: aizawa shouta x citizen!reader wc: 2.4k (oops) content warnings: SMUT mdni, dark content, stalker!aizawa, voyeurism, dubcon, power imbalance (pro hero/civilian, ya know), obsessive behavior, voice kink, dirty talk, blindfolds are involved, piv sex, oral f!receiving, spanking, dom/sub elements but not explicitly stated, aizawa's big dick, creampie, unprotected sex (do not do this!!! especially with strangers!!! this is fiction!!!)

Aizawa knows he shouldn’t go back.

It was already enough of a risk to hear your voice; that he's considering confirming his identity with you should have alarm bells blaring in his head.

But logic abandoned him hours ago.

Your message, come back tomorrow <3, blinks in his head. At this point, he’s just waiting for the city to fall asleep so he can slip out along the ledge and head straight to you.

Part of him is bizarrely nervous to replace the distance with reality, but the thought of never feeling your weight on top of him erases all arguments.

As soon as night falls, he winds his capture weapon around his neck and slides out into the dark.

All day long, you’ve been aching and hot, sliding your thighs together under the desk at work to relieve some of the pressure.

There’s no guarantee he’ll come back. You’ve told yourself this ever since you woke up gasping for breath, rocking your hips against a pillow.

It’s like he possessed you, you muse on the train ride home, the force of the train cars rattling your already frazzled head. You’ve never felt this way in your life, desire snapping and fizzing under your skin.

Your apartment looks exactly the same as when you left, straight down to the kicked-over coat stand you’d jostled on your way out the door. It’s all so maddeningly ordinary that it takes everything within you not to scream.

It’s almost like last night didn’t happen at all.

“No need to sigh like that, sweetheart.”

His voice comes from behind you. Fear zips up your spine like dynamite sparking, your stomach bottoming out in one fell swoop.

He’s here.

Something winds around your wrists and face, obscuring your vision and tugging your body back. You collide with someone who smells like cedar and books and black coffee.

You breathe in his scent as the fear melts to excitement, to anticipation.

He’s here.

“Miss me, sweet girl?”

You’d think huffing him in like a fucking croissant would be a dead giveaway.

“What’s with the blindfold?” you ask instead. Angling your head in various ways does nothing. He made sure you can’t make him out, only confirming your previous hunch. He’s a pro, and he sure as fuck doesn’t want anyone to know he’s sneaking into girls’ apartments and fucking them stupid.

“You’re smarter than that.”

His voice is even better in person; you can feel the rumble of it against your neck. He loosens his hold on the cloth binding your wrists. Your hands naturally settle on the broad expanse of his chest.

He says the next thing nice and soft, “We don’t have to do anything.”

You understand the out for what it is, but you’re willing to sacrifice your sight for a taste of what he offered you yesterday.

“I’d like to do some things,” you say, and he huffs a laugh. “I don’t know what you did to me, but if you don’t touch me in the next few seconds, I feel like I’ll pass out.”

You don’t even realize you’re grinding yourself on his thigh until his hand splays across your hip, stilling you. Flipping you around, he cages you against the door, teeth scraping down the side of your throat.

“You don’t know what I did to you?” He punctuates the ask by kicking your feet apart with the heel of his boot. Your pussy clenches around nothing, a keen high in your throat. “What about what you did to me? Feels like I’ve got you floating around my fucking bloodstream.”

With a growl, he scoops you up and pins you against the door with his hips, mouth bracketing over yours.

“Can’t get your pretty little noises out of my head,” he says against your lips, sounding like a man at a confessional. His hips jerk, the length of his erection pulsing between you. “Can’t stop thinking about that pretty picture you sent me.”

He laves at your collarbone with his tongue, hand resting in the hollow of your throat. The gentlest squeeze elicits your softest sigh. He grunts at the sound, thick fingers applying more pressure before falling to your waist and locking you in place. His breath skates over your cheek; you feel the rasp of stubble on your skin.

“Let me take you to bed, sweetheart.”

God, his voice makes your knees fucking buckle. His forearm is tight around your back, holding you close.

“Please.”

You don’t recognize that whine as your voice; you’ve never sounded this eager, never felt this aching pulse in your core the way you do now. You need him to mold your insides to the shape of him, to pin you down on the mattress and take you.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. You don’t know him, not really, but you like this aspect of his personality. He makes his want for you tangible, so sharp you can practically taste it in the air. It’s like he’d rather die than leave you unsatisfied, and honestly, you don’t think anyone’s made you feel like that.

You can’t help liking it.

He taps open the door to your room with the toe of his boot. Lips slanted over yours, his tongue presses behind your teeth, licking into your mouth in the filthiest kiss you’ve ever shared with someone. It’s a sloppy clash of teeth and tongues; your hands fist in his hair as he caresses his thumbs over the skin of your hips.

“Take your clothes off.”

You obey just as you did on the phone, the rush to do so shooting a wave of heat over your face.

“That’s my girl, fuckin’ eager for it, huh?” You wish you could see his face; you want to match the feral snarl you hear with an expression. He sounds like he’s enjoying it, standing in front of you fully clothed while your arousal drips down your fucking legs.

You cross your legs together and he laughs, the hot span of his hands splaying over your hips as he tugs you to him.

“I know you’re needy, baby; you’re already doin’ so good for me. You listen just a little longer and I’ll make sure this pretty little pussy of yours gets the treatment she deserves, okay?” He cups your cunt in the palm of his hand; immediately, you rock against him, the meat of his palm bunching over your clit. He spanks your ass sharply. “Get on the bed and spread your legs open.”

Your muscles are shaky; your thighs tremble as you settle on the bed. You’ve never wanted to be able to see more than right now, spread out and vulnerable underneath a stranger’s gaze.

Before doubt can blare in your head, you hear him, “Fucking Christ, sweetheart, look at you. Absolutely gorgeous.”

His knee dips the mattress; his hands pry your thighs apart obscenely.

“She’s prettier up close,” he says, and then sucks your clit into his mouth.

You buck your hips into his face. He holds you down with his other hand and sucks harder. The sound you make has pre-cum spurting from his cock.

He’ll fucking cum like this if he’s not careful, rutting his hips on the sheets with your thighs choking off his air supply.

Worse ways to go, all things considered.

“You’ve been pent-up for a while, hmm?” He turns his head to kiss at the soft skin of your inner thigh, slick shimmering in the moonlight. He almost wishes his stubble were longer so he could capture more of your scent.

You smell so fucking good; he inhales and runs his teeth up the inside of your thigh, biting and sucking, grinding your clit on his nose. You whimper and lock your hands on his hair, silently begging for more.

He runs the flat of his tongue over your clit before breaking away. His dick jumps at your growl of frustration.

“Let’s stretch you out on my fingers first, pretty girl. I wasn’t just talking myself up yesterday.” He coats his fingers in your arousal, inhales the musky sweet scent of you like a drug. “You’re gonna need a little prep before you can take me.”

He sinks two fingers in. Your cunt sucks him in, gummy walls immediately clamping down. He drops his forehead to yours, thinks wildly about ripping away the blindfold, of forcing you to hold his gaze while he makes your pussy gush on his hands.

“More,” you cry out, and he obliges, working three fingers in, twisting and pressing and stroking, listening to your small gasps, waiting for the breath in your voice to catch. "Sho, please—"

Aizawa bites down on his lower lip when your back bows, fingers scrabbling at his forearm, holding his hand in place as you rock back and forth on his fingers. One little pinch of your clit and you’re sobbing out his name.

He lopes an arm under you and pulls you to him. Your breath comes out in shuddery little gasps.

“All good, sweetheart?”

You nod against his neck, already nosing at his throat for a kiss.

He doesn’t know what possesses him.

“I’ll let you take off the blindfold if you get on your hands and knees.”

The noise you make is so embarrassingly eager you almost cringe.

You might see him.

You arrange yourself as he asks, wiggling your ass and arching your back. You gasp when he palms your hip, pulling you back against his clothed cock.

"Can I take it off now?" you try to ask as coy as you can, but you just sound like a fucked-out mess. He feels big. You saw the picture but it's nothing compared to feeling the ridge of his shaft pulsing along the cleft of your ass. You choke on a groan, undulating your hips in a desperate move to calm the ache in your lower belly.

He grunts behind you and palms the back of your head. “Eyes forward, or you aren’t getting fucked. Understand?”

You nod into the mattress, not trusting your own voice.

"Words, princess, didn't we talk about this last time?" His tone is between condescending and tender and it's making your insides turn to fucking goo.

"I understand."

"Good."

You hear the clink of buckles, the rustle of a zipper.

"I'll only keep my eyes forward if all your clothes come off, though."

You know you're pushing it, pushing him, but fuck, you need his skin on yours so you can sear him into your fucking brain.

You squeal at the crack of pain when his palm collides with your ass.

"Mouthy tonight, honey?" There's his hand again, collaring the back of your neck. You throw your hips back at him; he spanks you again. "Fuck, you know what you're doin', don't you? My little cocktease want her pussy stuffed that badly?"

No one's talked to you like this. No one's ever said exactly the sort of profane filth you've longed to hear.

"Yes," you sob out.

"The clothes come off then, you little brat."

When he settles behind you, the hot ridge of his dick slides between your folds and you jerk back into him. The blindfold falls away.

"Goddammit," he growls out, fingers digging into the plush of your hips. "Fuck, you're soaking wet, baby. Can already feel her trying to suck me in, isn't that right?" He palms your lower belly. "You're gonna feel me right fuckin' here. I'm gonna be so deep inside you you'll forget about everything but me, you understand?"

His cockhead tips into your fluttering hole. Fuck, he is big. You peer back between your tits at where he's disappearing into you. The girth and length of him makes your stomach bottom out.

His hand pushes down on your lower back, bowing your ass up.

"Don't run away, let me work my way in, huh? Make my pretty girl feel so fucking full." Another inch of him slots inside you. The stretch of it burns slightly, but the pain recedes when he rubs little circles on your clit. "Fuckkkk, baby, you have any idea how perfect this tight little pussy is? Feels like you're suckin' the life out of me."

The drag of his cock inside you makes your eyes cross. With every thrust, he rubs the head of his dick on your g spot, hand locked in a possessive clutch on your lower belly.

"Put your hand here, feel where I'm fucking you." With one hand on top of yours, he presses down hard. You buck, the sensation almost too much. "No one else is ever gonna have this pussy, you hear me? It's fucking mine, sweet girl, mine to fuck, mine to feast on, mine to fill up with cum—"

The heel of his hand grinds down on your clit and that's all it takes before your orgasm collapses your lungs and shorts out your brain. Everything detonates, star-bursts of pleasure exploding in your core until tears stream down your face.

His rhythm barely falters as he fucks you through it, mouth hot on the back of your neck. "Keep goin', princess, you can cum again, can't ya? One more time, just for me. There's my fuckin' girl, milk every fucking drop out of me, fuck—"

You can only imagine the milky ring of cum and arousal coating his cock as he wrenches another orgasm from your tired body. His dick pulses inside you, a guttural moan reverberating from his throat so deeply you practically feel it in your gut.

He stays inside you for a few more moments, both of you catching your breath. When he slips out, you groan at the loss.

"Be right back, sweet girl. Blindfold goes back on, too."

He laughs when you pout, cloth obscuring your vision once more.

When he comes back, he dips a warm cloth between your thighs, swabbing away the gooey mess. You're so sensitive you hiss out a sharp breath. He presses a glass of water into your hand. You gulp it down with gusto.

"I already blocked off where I came in from," he's saying, and you can't help but roll your eyes even if he can't see the motion. You wonder how he chalks up this whole excursion in his stupid pro hero head.

"Don’t want anyone else getting to me or something?"

He clears his throat. "Or something."

The scrape of your window sounds. "I'd start locking these if I were you."

You know he's gone when the cloth whips away from your face, the flutter of your gauzy white curtains the only proof he was there.

taglist: @cryingintheclubdhmu @abigolemess @rindarudoesshonen @simplyraeblue @ermmclovingit @deputyazor @lizzobeth @quinn0-0 @hotlosergirl17 @mother-hellsing

[hyruling]

number 50 for the prompts! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

50. putting a hand over the other’s mouth to shut them up

—

“You’re staring.”

He is. Has been, all night, and apparently finally been caught.

They’re in the kitchen, again, and Buck is watching him, flushed from the alcohol they’ve been drinking and the exertion of the game of charades that got a little too rowdy. Everyone else is in the living room, clustered around Bobby like a herd of elephants protecting their young, and when Buck got up to refill the snacks Eddie unfolded himself from the armchair and followed.

So yeah, he’s been staring. As if it’s his fault. Buck is wearing that cardigan that pulls tight across his chest and makes his eyes look stupidly blue. He’s forgone any hair product, curls bouncy and so touchable it’s been driving him crazy all night. And Bobby is in his house, something he thought he’d never get to see again. Chris is home, tucked away in his room with Denny and Mara and probably Jee, entertaining themselves away from the embarrassing adults. The world is right again, and pleasantly fuzzy from all the wine Karen’s been plying him with all night.

And Buck. He’s already mentioned the cardigan, and the hair, but Buck has been in his element tonight. Full of laughter, the spirit Eddie was worried had been broken forever repaired and thriving. He’s been fluttering around the house, refilling drinks and serving food with a bright smile that he can’t get enough of.

Buck’s glancing over at him now, hands busy with re-plating a charcuterie board. He has a soft smile just for Eddie, and it makes him a little nauseous with how painfully in love with him he is. How stupid he’s been to have wasted so much time pretending he wasn’t.

“Earth to Eddie?” Buck says, grin widening into something teasing.

“Hmm?” Eddie asks, settling against the counter behind him while Buck works at the island. He fiddles with his wineglass, nearly empty, and watches Buck cut up a block of gouda cheese. He’s pushed the sleeves of the cardigan to his elbows, forearms flexing, and Eddie can’t quite make himself look away.

“I said you’re staring,” Buck repeats with a little laugh. “Did you follow me in here just to watch, or are you gonna help?”

“I’m fine right here,” Eddie answers, delighting in Buck’s eye roll, the blush that creeps into his cheeks. “It’s a good view.”

Buck goes crimson, drops the block of cheddar he’d been about to slice. “Eddie. You can’t say that kind of shit when I have a knife in my hand.”

“Why?” Eddie teases, and the back of Buck’s neck turns red. Not for the first time, Eddie wonders how far it spreads. “Does it make you flustered, Buckley?”

He knows it does. But that certainty was hard earned, having spent weeks agonizing over living in such close quarters with Buck, telling himself all kinds of stories about why his heart raced when their hands brushed over the coffee pot, convinced Buck must not feel the same way. Until his tía had walloped him upside the head, metaphorically speaking, a few weeks in and told him to lock Buck down before it was too late.

In her own words, of course.

He suspects she had a similar conversation with Buck, given the way he’d come inside after seeing her to her car, red-faced and avoiding Eddie’s eyes. They’d stuttered and tiptoed around each other for a few days before settling back into their normal, which Eddie had finally come to realize was not most people’s normal.

“I—shut up,” Buck says, and picks up the cheese.

But now that he’s started, he can’t help himself. Fueled by three and a half glasses of wine, and the profound joy that’s bursting to spill out of his ribcage, he inches closer until his hip presses into the island right next to Buck.

Buck goes briefly rigid but recovers quickly — Eddie wouldn’t even have noticed the slip if he wasn’t watching him so closely. He keeps slicing cheese methodically, eyes fixed determinedly on his hands.

“Looking a little flushed there, bud,” Eddie says. “Too much wine?”

Buck huffs and flushes harder. “I only had two glasses. What’s that, your fourth?”

“You monitoring my drinking?” Eddie asks, and Buck chuckles.

“Only cause I know you’ll have a massive headache later,” Buck replies. “Good thing I stocked up on Excedrin last week.”

He finishes the cheese and starts in on some sausage, unwrapping it from the plastic, and Eddie can’t resist.

“Nice sausage you got there.”

Buck chokes on spit and drops the knife, turning to face Eddie at last. “Eddie. What is this?”

“What?” Eddie asks innocently. He’s too drunk to properly flirt, never flirted with a man before and is rusty nonetheless; but Buck is responding beautifully, in a way that he knows only he could tease out of him.

“You’re complimenting my sausage?”

Eddie shrugs. “It’s a nice one, that’s all. Thick, firm. I’d like to taste it—”

Buck’s hand covers his mouth, cutting him off, and his blood sings from the contact, from Buck flush against him, so close he could count his eyelashes. He barely resists the urge to lick his hand.

“Eddie,” Buck says in a low, plaintive voice that’s doing nothing to calm down his dick, which is not uninterested in the sudden lack of personal space. “You gotta—you know what you’re doing. Don’t—don’t be mean.”

And that—he knows then that they’re not on equal footing, that Buck is still operating under the illusion that Eddie’s not attainable, not already his. That the uptick in Eddie’s heated stares, his hand on Buck’s lower back while he’s cooking, the hip checks at the bathroom sink, have not communicated as clearly as he thought how much he wants this.

So Eddie nods, still silenced by Buck’s hand, and purses his lips until Buck can feel them against his palm. Buck snags it back like he’s been burned, eyes wide.

“Yeah, Buck,” Eddie says softly. He picks up Buck’s hand and presses another kiss to his knuckles, keeping his eyes fixed on Buck’s. “I do know what I’m doing.”

Buck looks lost, staring at him the way he had when Eddie appeared amongst the rubble and dust weeks ago — like he’s a ghost, like he’d never seen him before.

“A-are you sure? Because Eddie, I can’t—”

Eddie closes the scant distance between them, catches Buck’s jaw in one hand, and kisses him.

Buck doesn’t kiss him back at first, frozen in Eddie’s gentle grip — and then he’s making a soft, hurt sound and pulling Eddie closer, hands immediately snaking under his shirt to find the skin of Eddie’s back. His head spins when Buck’s tongue teases at his lips, and he tastes like wine and salt and—

“Buckaroo, what’s the hold up—oh.”

Buck rips away, putting nearly a foot of space between them, and Eddie laughs, giddy. Chim looks like the cat who got the cream when he turns around, face split into a wide grin.

“Whatcha doing gentlemen?” he asks with a snap his gum, crossing his arms and tilting his head.

Buck sputters behind him, but Eddie just shrugs and leans back until he feels Buck’s chest pressed against his back.

“Nothing really. I was just asking Buck about his sausa—”

Buck’s hand slaps over Eddie’s mouth again, pulling him tighter against his chest with the move, and Chim howls out a laugh.

“I knew it!” he cries, clapping his hands together and spinning around. “Maddie! You owe me fifty bucks!”

“Hey!” Buck calls, but it’s too late — Chim’s gone.

Eddie does lick Buck’s hand then, and Buck releases him with a squeal. Eddie turns around and chuckles at Buck’s red face, staring at him helplessly. He can’t help but lean up to press a kiss to his flushed cheek, stroking over the other with a gentle thumb.

“We’re about to be swarmed,” Eddie says. He can already hear exclamations and shrieks coming from the living room and knows they have seconds before their little bubble is shattered. “I love you, and I mean it. And I really can’t wait to try your sausage.”

Buck snorts and drops his head to press against Eddie’s forehead, eyes brimming with what look like tears. Eddie thumbs a stray one away with the hand on his cheek. “Eddie, I—I love you so much, it’s—I—”

“What have we here?”

It’s Hen that breaks them apart this time. Buck’s smiling sheepishly over Eddie’s shoulder, and when Eddie turns, he sees at least four people trying to crowd in the doorway, the rest cloistered behind them in the dining room. Buck sighs, and drops a kiss to the top of Eddie’s head before beckoning them in.

“Alright. Get in here, you animals.”

Like a dam breaking their family descends, pouring into every nook and cranny, and Eddie swears his kitchen has never felt so warm.

—

prompts xo

[iamthatonefangirl]

kk picture this:

bucky finally being able to use a phone and one day he goes on his camera roll bc he remembered he took a pic of some file or something he need to take a look at again…

and suddenly seeing a pic of you, that he knows he didnt take himself…he also knows you didnt send him that pic…meaning you took it with his phone yourself…

its you on you knees on the bed, your fav pillow between your thighs, tits out- one of your hands around your neck holding it like he usually does, dog tags visible around your neck as well, and you r looking so sweet but sooo horny- directly into the camera…lips all glossy too…

he wonders how long this has been in his camera roll, how long he has been oblivious to this masterpiece on his phone, how long he has been neglecting you like that, how long you waited for him to find it…you wanted him so see it…ofc you did…so now he hast to to do smth about it…

alright ily chao chao

- 💋

oh I am OBSESSED with this idea wait a damn minute

once he sees it, all the thoughts start coming to his head

how long has he not known about this image? (the answer: two months.) how many missions had he been on since you took it that could he could have used it to get off to? (the answer: 7.)

the second he sees it he's already pulling his cock out oh my god you look so gorgeous to him. and maybe he gets a glimpse of the pillow between your thighs and it's got a fucking wet spot on it. dear god. he wants to replace that pillow with his fucking thigh or his hand, anyway to feel you

maybe you're at work. maybe he knows he's about to pull something.

"what's up, baby? I'm at work," you whisper to him when you pick up the phone. "is everything okay?"

"oh, yeah, all good," he says into the phone, and you hear his clipped little breaths between his words

"are you-"

"oh, yeah." he affirms, entirely shamelessly. "I found your little gift for me in my photos."

it's been so goddamn long since you took it that it takes you a beat to think about it, and then it comes to you. you smirk to yourself, putting your head down at your desk and speaking lowly.

"finally found that, huh?" you taunt

"yeah, baby, and I'm so hard just thinking about it... got you on speaker, gotta look at how sexy you look, fuck..."

"you enjoy yourself. I gotta go."

"no, just... stay on the phone. don't even gotta say anything, fuck, just let me..." he says, moaning as he takes in a new part of the picture every time

you quietly slip your airpods in and listen as he talks your ear off while fucking his fist, all while you're in the office pretending to work.

[chikaras-garden]

Demonhead Damian when his lovely sugar baby is angry and giving him the silent treatment, how does this possessive man handle this?

Hot anger flares in your chest as you stride through the halls, and every assassin in your path knows not to get in your way. When you look like that—powers sparking, eyes alight—everyone knows that it’s more dangerous to cross you than to feign ignorance when the Demon Head inevitably questions them. 

The guards avert their eyes when you burst into Damian’s chamber and accuse, “You dismissed my maid!”

As he sits behind his desk, his eyes slowly rise to meet yours. Then, his eyebrow quirks—just a little. “Removing one of your friends? That is all it took to convince you to speak to me again? To think I had considered having her killed.”

“I am still angry with you,” you point out, inclining your chin in the face of his blatant nonchalance. He’s not afraid of you? Good. You’re not afraid of him, either.

He tilts his head, corners of his mouth twitching. “Come to me, princess.”

You scoff. “Hire my maid back.”

A beat of silence passes, and then he lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Very well. But I do expect you back in my bed this evening; sleeping alone is…”

This time, he’s the one to wrinkle his nose.

“…inadequate.”

[chxrryhansen]

rafe with a piss kink?!?

i just seen your bucky one😻😻

-💋

god you need to send me asks more often! i love all of the ones you send me🫶🏻 rafe would be soooo mean about it…

₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧

your sat on rafe’s lap watching a movie together like you usually did on friday nights (since he didn’t approve of you going out without him and you didn’t want to spoil girls night by taking him with you) your back pressed against his bare chest and your legs intertwined as you sat on the couch, him only wearing a pair of boxers and you in your skimpy “pajamas” that he had chosen out for you.

you began to squirm around on his lap, your plump ass pressing into his cock as you clenched your thighs, desperately needing to go pee but not wanting to disturb rafe or miss a good part of the movie.

“quit squirming.” he mumbled, his hands moving to grip your hips, stilling your movement. you knew you shouldn’t have drank all that water earlier, rafe had warned you, you’d be up and down to the bathroom all night but you were so thirsty from your yoga class. so you downed around 3 glasses of water at once.

you whimpered quietly, the pressure on your bladder becoming too heavy for you to withstand. you attempted to get up, thinking if you didn’t mention it he wouldn’t question you. silently you shifted, moving away from his lap in an attempt to stand.

rafe was quick to tighten his grip on your hips, pulling your ass back down against his cock. a thick hand wrapped around, gripping your throat in a strong hold making you moan quietly.

“where do you think you’re going, hm?”

“r-rafe, let me go, i gotta’ go pee.”

“huh…” he sighed in false thought, a wicked smirk appearing on his clean shaven face. “nah i think you can hold it a little longer baby, just be quiet and watch the movie.” he thrusted his hips up gently against your pussy, his cock clearly hard, rubbing up and down your clothed cunt, his tip catching against your clit.

you whimpered yet again, clenching your thighs together quickly as you felt a dribble of liquid drip through your panties, soaking your shorts and leaking onto rafes cock. sighing at the slight relief you felt, praying he hadn’t noticed, your cheeks flustered due to your embarrassment. however you weren’t as lucky as you had hoped, nothing got past rafe. you should’ve known.

“fuck baby, you pissin’ on me now? filthy fuckin’ slut. do i need to do everything around here? including taking you to the damn bathroom?” he growled from behind you, his chest rumbling, acting as if he was mad. when in reality his cock had never been harder, so ready to burst out of his boxers and fuck you til’ you can’t breathe.

“i’m so sorry daddy, i didn’t mean to. i swear it was an accident.” you cried, tears streaming down your cheeks out of pure humiliation. you couldn’t hold back any longer, a steady stream of piss gushing out of your pussy, turning his boxers dark as you soaked his lap. crying and moaning at the sensation of finally being able to let go.

rafe groaned at the feeling of your hot piss soaking his cock, dry humping you roughly through your release.

“shh, it’s okay sweetheart, i know baby. your such a nasty little whore, pissing all over me, but its okay. daddy loves filthy girls like you, gettin’ me so hard. fuck.”

rafe pushed you off his lap and onto the floor, your knees hitting the hard surface making you whimper. he watched you with a dark grin as you looked up at him with a confused expression in your puppy dog eyes. “w-what are you doing?” you questioned. closing your eyes as he reached out, stroking the tears away from your cheeks with his thumb, shushing you gently.

suddenly your eyes burst open in shock as you felt a warm liquid begin to hit your chest, looking up to see rafe pointing his cock at your tits and face, his hot piss soaking your body in the most violating way possible. you sobbed as he marked you, confused as to why he was doing this.

“fuck that’s it, take my piss you filthy slut, is that what you are, yeah? you my dirty piss slut? soaking my cock then letting me mark you up. bet you fuckin’ love it. dirty girl, look at you, just writhing in my hot puddle of piss. who knew you were such a whore, baby.”

[tra1nchi]

Hello <33 may can we have a top male hero reader fucking a sub villain?

💋anon

Time to lock in,, MINORS DNI!! Top male reader,,Hero reader,, pathetic villian :(,, crying,, hair pulling,,size diff,,masturbation

You were the definition of a hero,,a symbol of peace and something children and adults could all look up to,,he was so incredibly jealous of you!! He was nothing like you,,

He was shy,nervous and meek when he was young,, only finding comfort in his superhero comics so when he grew older and saw you,,an actual real life hero,, he was smitten,,he needed to be like you >□<

Making a makeshift outfit to look like yours,,getting mocked for it,,being called the cheap knockoff by the press,,he couldn't handle it so now his only desire was revenge,,

Your hand muffled his pathetic moans,,trying to squirm away from your strong grip!! He had been beaten by you once again,,now stuck underneath you with your hard cock pressing against his thigh!!

"I won't do it again! I'm sorry!" He whines out,,his hair being gripped tightly in your large hands,,gasping for breath as he tries to stop his eyes from rolling back at you taking control of his pliant body,,

Ignoring how tears flow down his cheeks from how long you've been spanking his exhausted ass,,red, raw and sore as he tries to slap your rough hand away from his sensitive skin!!

Fucking him up against a wall,,pulling his hair back as your masked face leaned down close to his,,his cheeks blushed red,,his breathing shaky as soft gasps leave his mouth each time your cock hits deep inside of him!!

Jerking off to seeing your firgure in the media,,using the piece of fabric that ripped off from your suit against his drooling dick,,his moans reverberated through the apartment as he came on his newest scheme plans :((

[melanchoire]

What about a gp! Wonyoung Intimacy while in the warm baths. Make out while showering or while in the tub, I'm living for soft and gentle dom Wonyoung!

-💋

kinda shit 💔 sorry guys, i feel like my brain is DYING and i’m not having much imagination to answer some old asks (old=the first days of march.) BUT before deleting all the requests in my inbox i prefer to take a little more time to write them 😭

cw: cockwarming.

there’s nothing wonyoung loves more than taking hot baths with you 💕 it’s probably one of the only (or the only) moments where wonyoung can finally take a break from her life as an artist and and a moment where she can clear her mind and think about herself

and there is nothing wonyoung loves more than cockwarming 😊 then better than having you sit on her lap looking at her, warming up her cock while you let her take care of you and give you the warm relaxing bubble bath you so deserve.

but it’s nothing too sexual, just you and wonyoung spending quality time together, massaging each other’s shoulders from time to time, applying hair creams such as shampoo or conditioner to each other’s hair and massaging and scratching the scalp, using a bath bomb in the tub that’s your favorite flavor and enjoying it when the water starts to take on the color and scent of the bomb… wonyoung would also do the silly thing of taking foam on her finger and touching the tip of your nose to leave a small amount of foam, smiling foolishly in a way that makes her eyes squint cutely 😭💕

and if you’re in the mood enough this can end with you riding her cock 😁 wonyoung wouldn’t mind if you wanted to take your time and go at a slower, gentler pace because you don’t have enough energy for an intense heated sex session today, allowing you to rest your hands on her shoulders to use them as support to do your work, on her part placing her hands on your hips and caressing your sides, loving the way you close your eyes as you sigh and simultaneously throw your head back, giving her a beautiful view of your neck covered by the bite marks and purple hickeys she left on your skin a while ago

and of course wonyoung is super loving and softie with aftercare! i don’t know if you guys know, but wonyoung recently said in an interview that she prefers to take care of others rather than be the one taken care of, so wonyoung will always be the big spoon at all times (there are times when she can be submissive too! you know, subby wonyoung is a lifestyle we love 👀) but most of the time she would rather take care of you and treat you like your baby a thousand times over than let you be the one in charge because she prefers to take care of others

[rissouu]

Hi, how’s your morning/afternoon/evening going so far? Can we get some plug Jean text messages? 🫣

hi babyyyy it’s going okay, and yours!?

[fear-is-truth]

a/n: it's finally over!! i'm so deeply sorry i subjected you to such torture. (finale of ENEMIES TO LOVERS. ── jackie (fear-is-truth) x f!reader) It was late once more. She found herself in your house, after a series of fruitless attempts to coax your home address from you. What should have been another routine evening of debating plot holes and trading barbed quips over stylistic peccadilloes now felt unfamiliarly changed. You had not spoken much in the last few minutes--only the soft clatter of keys and the occasional whisper as you stared at her latest line. "He pulled her close, his breath heavy, the kiss inevitable like a storm that had been brewing for years." You rolled your eyes and laughed. "You really need to ease up on the metaphors. Not everything is a 'storm.'" She did not laugh as was her custom. Rather, she looked at you from her side of couch, a look on her face . . . that look you cannot exactly describe . . . an expression of inscrutability so perfect that it seemed to grade into one of rather comfortable inanity simply because this was the fullest measure of her emotions. "You don't get it, do you?" she said in a quiet voice. You blinked, confused. "Get what?" She rested her fingers upon the keys but made no attempt to type. Instead, she stared at you longer than usual; her look was so intense that it caused your heart to speed somewhat. "The whole thing," she said softly, eyes veering to the screen, then back to you. "This. Us. Everything we’ve been doing. You’re not just criticizing me anymore." You were not quite sure how to respond. "You really have no idea, do you?" she repeated. You parted your lips to speak. And then, before you could restrain yourself, you found your body leaning forward, as though your body understood something your mind had yet to understand. It all dwindled away to nothing. "Jackie," you whispered. She faintly smiled. "Yeah?" And suddenly, her voice softened. "Maybe we’ve been writing the same story this whole time. Just with different versions." You did not wait for another word, you could not. Hardly had she finished her sentence when you flowed into her arms. She dared not--dared not allow herself to fully let go--not even daring to acknowledge that this was the beginning of a romantic relationship, that she had at last brought into being. Not daring to really kiss you, she simply touched her lips with yours, just plain sips devoid of any lasciviousness; yet you, with an eager wriggle, pressed your mouth to hers with such force that she could feel the sharpness of your front teeth and shared in the cool, peppermint tang of her kiss. The bickering, the barbed exchanges, the sportive sparring--all of it dissolved in the heat of the kiss. Instinct broke your embrace. She exhaled and smiled. "Well," she said, "I guess we're really writing this one together, aren't we?" You laughed. "Just don’t expect me to stop making fun of your terrible plot ideas." "I'd expect nothing less." you replied. — 💋ྀིྀ

ugh my heart… i fucking LOVE this masterpiece thank you thank you !!! 🥹🖤

[sugarwarachan]

based on this post, ukai keishin x reader - nsfw

-

"fuck, doll." keishin tries to focus on anything other than blowing his load immediately, but the way you're going at it, he's gonna cum in less than five seconds. "you’re gonna suck my brain straight outta my dick."

you pull away with a faint pop and a smirk, gazing up at him with a devious look he loves as much as he loves to win.

"kind of the point, kei." you place teasing kisses along his shaft while you massage his balls. "you’ve been using that brain of yours too much getting the boys ready to beat shiratorizawa."

he grunts and fists your hair.

"shit, how long have you been thinkin' about this?"

the fact that you fantasized about welcoming him home from a game by getting down on your knees and sucking him off is almost too much for him to comprehend right now.

"i think about it every time you win," you hum, and fuck if you don't look so unbelievably sexy in nothing but his zip-up jacket. "you complaining?"

ukai shakes his head so vigorously that you giggle. you suckle on the tip of his cock, basking in the noises he makes. he’s been leaking since you started, and the salty taste of him on your tongue makes you shift your legs to relieve the pressure in your lower belly.

"the way you are with those kids, kei…" you pump his shaft in between the ring of your fist, squeezing the base and suckling how he likes. "almost makes me want to give you one."

"shit, honey," he groans. "keep usin’ your mouth like that, and I just might take you up on it."

you lose yourself in making him feel good. lewd squelching and stuttered whines fill the room as you wind him closer to his release.

"baby baby baby i'm gonna cum i'm gonna cum - where do you want it, huh? down that perfect fuckin' throat of yours? please baby, lemme use this pretty mouth—"

(after a snack and a game recap, he returns the favor. twice.)

[hyruling]

omggggggg 58 + 60 for the intimacy prompts mwah mwah mwah 🥰🥰🥰

60. sitting in their lap

—

“Dude. I know you heard me call seat check.”

Chim shrugs, tucked into Buck’s spot between Eddie and Maddie on the couch, smugly eating the popcorn that Buck and Eddie had been sharing before he got up to pee. “I heard no such thing.”

“You’re blocking the TV,” Ravi complains, but Buck ignores him. 

“Come on, you all heard me. I was only gone for like, three minutes.”

“Wife privilege trumps seat check rules,” Chim argues, tossing popcorn in his mouth with a shit eating grin. He wraps his free arm around Maddie, who’s focused on the movie and studiously ignoring them both. 

“That’s not a thing—”

“It is when it’s our first night out of the house since the baby was born,” Chim argues. “Or I could use the captain card if you prefer.”

“Abuse of power,” Ravi mutters, and Buck points to him excitedly. 

“Yes, exactly, thank you Ravi!”

“I think you should use it though,” Ravi continues to Chim, and Buck gapes while Chim does a stupid fist pump. “We’re missing the climax of the movie dude. Just sit on the floor.”

“Easy for you to say from your high horse in the comfy armchair. The floor is hard on my leg,” Buck says. It’s only half true, but he’ll use whatever excuse he can to win one over on his brother in law. 

“You sit on the floor all the time,” Hen interjects from her spot on the loveseat, curled up cozily with Karen, also ignoring them. 

“Irrelevant,” Buck says with a dismissive gesture. “The point is, I called seat check, and what kind of society are we if we can’t even respect the sanctity of—”

And Eddie, who until now had been silently observing with an amused grin, rolls his eyes and sighs, “Dios, come here.”

He wraps a big hand around Buck’s wrist and tugs until he has nowhere to go but Eddie’s lap. Buck falls limply down, trying not to crush him at the last second by throwing an arm across the back of the couch. Eddie situates him across his legs, his back against the armrest next to Eddie, and if he weren’t struck so dumb by the whole thing he would put his feet in Chim’s face just to be annoying. 

“Happy now?” Eddie mutters in his ear.

“Uh,” Buck says intelligently. 

Eddie’s hand settles on his knee, the other resting behind Buck’s back along the armrest. Everyone’s eyes are on them when Buck looks up, but Eddie’s are on the screen. His cheeks are a little pink, but otherwise he appears normal. 

“Wow,” Chim says after a minute. “An instant Buck-Off button.”

“Shhh,” Eddie hushes him before Buck has a chance. “Some of us are watching the movie.”

Chim shakes his head with a short laugh and finally turns his attention back to the screen, and the rest of the room follows suit.

Buck is, ostensibly, also watching the movie, but he has no idea what’s happening. Gun to his head he couldn’t name a single actor in it, despite having watched the last hour and a half before Eddie rewired his synapses. All he can focus on is Eddie, the feel of his chest rising and falling against his arm, his thumb rubbing unconscious little circles against Buck’s elbow, the heavy weight of his hand on his knee.

“You okay?” Eddie whispers after who knows how long, quiet in Buck’s ear. 

Buck turns. Eddie’s eyes are dark in the dim room, his face much closer than Buck anticipated. He nods and tries to get a grip, though Eddie must be able to feel the way his heart is beating with the arm tucked around his back. 

“Yeah, I’m great,” he answers softly. 

“Sure? I can sit on the floor, if you’d rather not—”

Buck is shaking his head before he can finish the sentence. “No, no, this is — yeah, this is perfect.”

Perfect? He cringes internally, but Eddie isn’t fazed in the slightest. In fact he smiles, soft and pleased and all for Buck, and his heart rate kicks up another notch. 

They finish the movie twenty minutes later. Buck’s had to pee for a good fifteen of that, but he refused to get up — he doesn’t have the kind of luck that will afford him a second chance at this. He doesn’t even get up when everyone else stands to stretch and refill their drinks, perfectly content to stay where he is for as long as Eddie will allow it. 

Similarly, Eddie doesn’t push him off the second it becomes acceptable to do so. In fact he encourages Buck to stretch his legs out on the couch with a silent pat on his thigh.

“Am I crushing you?” Buck asks when they’re the only ones still in the room. 

Eddie shakes his head and gives his knee a squeeze. “Nah. You’re kind of like a weighted blanket.”

Buck flushes and looks away. Feels ridiculous, like he’s fifteen again and being flirted with by Cassie McDaniel in homeroom — except they’re in their thirties, and Eddie isn’t flirting. He’s just being Eddie. The New Eddie, as Buck has coined it in his head; the one that came back from El Paso with a twinkle in his eye that Buck can’t quite parse. He’s the same old Eddie but lighter, somehow — more free with his touches and casual affection in a way that Buck very much enjoys, despite the way it’s slowly driving him insane.

Like now, for instance.

“Your ass is kinda bony though.”

Buck scoffs, affronted, and Eddie laughs. His hand tightens on Buck’s knee when he tries to shift his weight off Eddie’s thighs. “Didn’t say you needed to move.”

“Well I’d hate for my bony ass to dig into your perfect thighs.”

“Perfect, huh?” Eddie teases, and there’s that fucking twinkle again.

“Mediocre. Above average. I know you skip leg day at least once a week.”

“How many times can we have this argument?”

“It’s not an argument, it’s a healthy discussion.”

“Core strength is more important than having huge biceps, and as a firefighter, you should understand that—”

“Well those huge biceps have saved a lot of people, didn’t hear them complaining.”

“I’m definitely not complaining either, but my point is—”

“Are you two gonna cuddle on my couch all night?”

They look up to see Hen standing over them, hands on her hips and brow raised suspiciously. 

“Maybe,” Eddie says before Buck can come up with anything. “You got something to say about it?”

“Only that you have your own house to be weird in,” she says with an eye roll. “And that Buck promised to help clean after the fiasco with the fondue last month.”

“Shit, I did,” Buck says, gingerly getting up so he doesn’t hurt Eddie with his bony ass. Eddie squeezes his hip as he goes though and nearly sends him sprawling. He just blinks innocently up at Buck when he whirls on him, self-satisfied little smile on his face that Buck wants to—

Nope. Not going there. He trails off after Hen and decidedly does not think about it. 

He doesn’t think about it when Eddie comes in to help clean, hip checking him at the sink. Or when they say their goodbyes to everyone at the door, and Eddie presses little smacking kisses to Karen and Hen and Maddie’s cheeks that he pretends he’s not wildly jealous of. Or when Eddie leads him to the truck with a hand on his lower back, and keeps it there until Buck rounds the hood to the drivers seat. He doesn’t think about it on the drive home, Eddie quiet in that way he gets sometimes after one too many drinks, and he definitely doesn’t stare at Eddie’s ‘perfect’ thighs when he changes into his sleep shorts and sinks onto the couch next to Buck. 

“That was fun,” Eddie says, relaxing until his head rests on the back of the couch.

“Yeah. Super fun.”

It’s quiet again, only sound coming from the TV playing on low. Buck keeps his eyes glued to it, though he’s not taking in a single thing Mrs. Brady is saying. 

“You’re thinking pretty loud over there bud,” Eddie says during a commercial break. 

Buck chances a look at him, and it’s a mistake. He looks so soft, relaxed against the cushions, wearing a baggy tank and shorts that ride up well above what Buck would consider an appropriate length. Buck looks quickly away. 

“Hey. I didn’t make you uncomfortable earlier, did I?” Eddie asks.

“No,” Buck answers, and forces himself to make eye contact. Eddie looks a little unsure, and Buck quickly shakes his head. “No, I told you it was fine, I promise, I just. I’m tired, I guess. Karen’s sangria always sneaks up on me.”

Eddie nods. “Yeah I know. Wanna share the bed tonight?” 

Buck flushes, and this time it’s definitely not dark enough for Eddie not to notice. It shouldn’t be a big deal — they’ve shared the bed a few times since Eddie and Chris came home, usually after a particularly grueling shift where their exhaustion ran too deep to tolerate the couch, and it’s been fine.

Only the last time it happened, he woke up to Eddie curled around his back, hand curled possessively in the front pocket of his hoodie. And in his half-conscious state Buck had thought, this is how I want to wake up everyday. He’s avoided sharing ever since. 

“Nah, couch—couch is fine,” Buck stutters. 

“Buck. Come on, talk to me, what’s got you so freaked?”

“I’m not freaked,” Buck lies, and turns back to the TV. “I’m not. Just. Brain is too loud tonight, I guess.”

He sees Eddie nod in his peripheral. “Well, I wasn’t kidding earlier you know.”

“About what?”

“You feeling like a weighted blanket,” Eddie clarifies. 

Buck’s head snaps to the left. Eddie looks serious as a heart attack — which, incidentally, Buck may be currently having. 

“So…”

“So,” Eddie echoes.

He inches closer until their thighs are touching. Buck watches in a weird sort of trance as Eddie twists and swings a leg over, hovering above Buck’s thighs. “This okay?”

Buck unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth and says, “Yeah—yes. Yeah.”

Eddie smiles and sits fully, and then they’re just staring at each other. Buck keeps his hands firmly to himself, while Eddie’s rest comfortably on Buck’s shoulders. 

“See what I mean?”

Buck blinks, remembers the weird metaphor they’re operating under. “Um, sort of. You’re only—I-I mean there’s only weight on my legs.”

“Good point.”

Slowly, as if he’s anticipating Buck to call their game of chicken and push him off, Eddie leans forward and wraps his arms around Buck’s shoulders, pressing their chests together. Buck feels his chin dig sharp into his shoulder before he adjusts and lays his cheek against his collarbone. 

“How’s that?” Eddie asks, slightly muffled. 

Buck inhales, feels Eddie move with him on the exhale, and it’s — well, Eddie wasn’t lying. Eddie lets his full weight press against Buck and it's comforting, to say the least. Electrifying, because it’s Eddie, and yet as the minutes pass he can feel his heart rate slow, his breathing ease. He feels their chests rise and fall together, Eddie’s warm weight settling him in a way nothing has in a long time — maybe ever. His mind goes pleasantly blank, even when one of Eddie’s hands starts to comb through the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“It’s nice,” Buck answers belatedly, and Eddie chuckles at the sleepy timbre of his voice. “I see what you mean.”

“Right?” Eddie says, scratching gently at his scalp, and it feels so good he melts even deeper into the couch cushions. “You can touch me too, you know.”

“Oh,” Buck mutters, and picks his hands up from where they’d been resting awkwardly next to Eddie’s thighs. He wraps them tentatively around Eddie’s back; Eddie makes a contented humming sound in response. 

They stay that way for a long time, until the late night rerun ends and another episode begins. Buck’s hands drift after awhile, smoothing up and down Eddie’s back slowly, thumbs rubbing circles against his scapula and vertebrae. 

“Hey Eddie.”

He’s half asleep, and Eddie is so big and warm in his arms, and it makes him reckless. Eddie’s ear is so close to Buck’s mouth he can whisper what he hasn’t dared speak out loud. 

“Yeah Buck?” Eddie says just as softly. 

“I need to tell you something. No – don’t, don’t get up.” He wraps a hand around the back of Eddie’s neck to keep him still. 

Eddie huffs but stays put. “You’re not about to tell me you’re moving, are you?”

There’s such an air of dread and petulance in his tone that Buck laughs. 

“No. Didn’t, uh, know you had such strong feelings about that.”

“Well. I do.”

“It’s not that,” Buck says, and Eddie exhales against his neck. “But you might, uh—you might want me to when I—”

“No I won’t,” Eddie interrupts, leaving no room for argument. “Tell me.” 

Buck swallows, hard enough that Eddie must hear it. But he waits patiently, one of his thumbs tracing figure eights on the back of Buck’s neck, and for some reason that is what finally breaks through his thinly guarded veneer.

“I think I’m in love with you.” 

The figure eight stutters to a stop, but Eddie doesn’t move an inch. If anything, he covers Buck with his weight even more, somehow, and Buck feels his nose brush his clavicle. 

“And you think I want you to move out because of that?” 

“I—well, maybe, I don’t want to make you feel—I don’t know. Actually, can we pretend I didn’t say anything?” 

“No,” Eddie says. And then nothing else. 

“I—Eddie you gotta—you gotta say something. Tell me to fuck off, or that it’ll never happen but you value our friendship anyway, o-or that nothing will change between us—”

“Hmm, no. None of those sound like me.” 

“You literally said that last one. Basically verbatim, less than a year ago.” 

“Yeah, but I was lying then. I don’t want to lie to you again.” 

“Eddie, come on, what does that me—” 

But in one swift move Eddie sits up, catches Buck’s face between his hands, and kisses him. 

It’s a short kiss, a dry brush of slightly chapped lips, but it manages to alter his entire worldview in the five or so seconds it last before Eddie pulls away. Buck gets a brief glimpse of his pink cheeks before he tucks his head back against Buck’s shoulder. 

“There you go sweetheart,” Eddie mumbles, voice drawling the way it does when he’s tired. “My knees have about another five minutes of this before I need to get up, let's not waste them.” 

“Okay,” Buck says in a ragged voice that doesn’t quite sound like his. A voice belonging to a mouth that has kissed Eddie Diaz, and therefore irrevocably changed. 

True to his word, Eddie continues to crush him into the couch for another five minutes, until his racing heart slows again and their eyes are half-lidded and drowsy when Eddie sits up. 

“That was nice,” he says with a smile.

“Y-yeah, it was,” Buck agrees, squeezing Eddie’s thighs. “Same time tomorrow?”

Eddie huffs out a little laugh, and though Buck was half joking, Eddie nods and presses his forehead against Buck’s shoulder. Buck drops a kiss to the crown of his head before he can quite stop himself, and Eddie makes that same happy humming sound Buck wants to chase for the rest of his life. 

“Yeah. I’ll see you there.”

—

[strang3lov3]

ugh it’s that time of month for me again strange which means i get to fantasize about a big bear of a man lovingly pinning me face down ass up on the bed and fucking me slow, hard, and deep no matter how much i bitch and hiss about being sore and bleeding because he knows this is what i need to get the poison out.

-🍒💋

you and me both sista. i like started last night during sexytimes which is always fun (i'm not being facetious lol i do like getting it uhh fucked outta me) and today it vanished! but the cramps remain ever present.

i think, respectfully, that you are thinking of dad!hop. mhm big daddy jim hopper, and he's pressing his full weight into you, and really the last thing you want is to be fucked, or held, or any of that shit. you just want space to bleed and ache on your own.

but dad knows you. and he knows if he doesn't fuck at least a little of this out of your system, you're going to be a fuckin' peach. oh my god, your attitude when you're on the rag is something else entirely. and hop thought it was bad before you ever even got your first period. shoooooot.

why the fuck are you hellbent against cumming, kid? just fuckin' let go, for fuck's sake. quit fighting it. you're doing yourself no fucking favors here. lay down, buck up, and quit fucking complaining. dad knows you're sore. he knows you're achy and uncomfortable. and he will fucking fix it, if you just...

...let go. theeerrrreeee it is. atta-fuckin'-girl, kid. hopper draws out of you, his thick length coated in your blood, and when he pushes back in, you moan so nice for him. so fucking nice. he presses the heel of his palm against your clit so that with every thrust, you're getting that friction he knows you so desperately need. and oh, there it is. there you fucking are, coming hard on dad's cock. just like you needed.

you're a different person when you come down. still annoyed, sure - less so from cramps and more so from the fact dad bought you the shitty, off-brand pads again.

but he did remember your reese's pieces :) and what's better than feeling his big, warm hand on your tummy when you snuggle him on the couch, soothing those cramps away?

[chikaras-garden]

Hi petal! May I request Dick Grayson and Damian Wayne dick headcanons? Like, size and width kinda thing? Thank you!

Sweet Jesus. Yes. Goodness. Oh my god.

DICK GRAYSON 💦

Not the longest. Not the girthiest. A pretty pink head that demands kisses. But the curve of his dick helps him reach places inside you that no one else could ever dream of. This is a cock that finds every spot that makes you squirm and scream—and then invents new ones, just to be sure no man has ever made you feel as good as he does. 

He uses his whole body to fuck you. Hands cupping your cheeks, forehead against yours, breath fanning over your lips in between kisses. When he’s inside you, you’re two halves of one whole, and the point where your body ends and his begins may as well not exist. He’s so agile, so flexible; he’ll work as hard as is necessary to find every position that has you coming undone all over his cock.

Loves to stay inside you. He came so much, so hard, so fast—so he’ll just plug you up, you know? You don’t mind, right? He’ll be so impossibly gentle about it, too; laying on top of you, weight on his knees so he doesn’t hurt you, peppering little kisses up and down your face until his cock softens and slips right out.

DAMIAN WAYNE 💦

A cock so perfect that they should be making dildos based off of him. Very long. Very thick. Tanned and super veiny. Honestly, the worst part is that he knows this because he’s heard it a billion times. Praise does nothing to him after hearing so many people say he feels so good, that he splits them open just right—but the look on your face when he thrusts hard, fast, and deep until your eyes roll back in your head? 

That has him feeling something he’s never felt before. He’s buried to the hilt inside you, you feel him all the way up to your lungs, and you reach down to grab his wrist and hold him right where he is. When your fingers wrap around him, he groans, seeing stars of his own. You reach around his hips and press your hands into his ass to pull him even deeper, and he starts forcing himself into breathing exercises to stop himself from coming right there.

Prefers you to come first. Also prefers when you have the time for both of you to come multiple times. He has a thing for coming on your tits first, and he’d love to come on your face if you’re into that, but sex isn’t finished until he fills you, duh.

@uc1wa I wasn't kidding

[daisyjonesgf]

Finnick eating his sweet girl out for the first time….its a sexual experience that they’d get to choose for themselves considering the people in the Capitol wouldn’t care much for their pleasure. It’s something that happens at home, maybe after a day of cuddling…

-🌾anon

they're cuddling, all day has been soft kisses, and playing with each other's hair, and legs tangled up, and eventually they're making out, and he's kissing her neck and shoulder, so softly, like little angel kisses, they live for the soft moments, and his lips are sliding further down, and his fingers lightly tracing her bare skin

"is this okay?" and she's nodding, but he's looking up at her, "need to hear you say it, angel."

"yeah." and her voice is already soft and airy. and he keeps kissing down, pushing her nightgown further up, and he's about to say something again when she's already speaking, "it's still okay, finnick."

and he's smirking, "I was just gonna say that if you want me to stop to tell me, okay, sweet girl?"

and she nods but then catches herself, "mhm." because just him being so close to her core as her nervous with anticipation.

"you're so good, so perfect." and he's softly sliding off her underwear, and then leaving soft kisses everywhere but where she needs him.

"finn." she's whining and he's looking up like he doesn't know what's going on.

"what?"

"please?" and she's looking at him with an adorable little pout and her eyes widened and he's not going to deny his sweet girl so he is immediately diving in, she doesn't tug his hair but her hands are definitely in it, and he is just praising her, adoring the sounds of her moans, and this man just keeps going through her first orgasm, he can hold his breath and rarely comes up for air, and he is not stopping until she goes, " 's too much, finn." and then is instantly pulling away.

"are you okay?"

she nods, hand wiping her face, "yeah, more than okay, finn."

anyways they're my sweet pookies

[dirty-little-mind33]

Dave, while being very inexperienced, makes that up with enthusiasm and obedience. When you teach him to go down on you, he'll look up with big nervous eyes and trembling lips. You guide him with a soft voice and gentle hand on the back of his head. Once Dave gets his first taste of you, he's a goner. He'll keep going until you push him away, far too lost in your taste to ever think about stopping. After that, he won't stop asking if he can do it again. He'll ask with a blush and stutter that you can hardly say no to. He's so needy that sometimes he won't even wait for you to sit or lie down, he'll drop to his knees to devour you! -🍒 anon

🍒 anon!!!! (assuming it's the same person as on my other blog but if not, welcome my love!!!!) i went a little overboard…

warnings: sub!dave, mention of a mommy kink, humiliation, degradation, punishment

dave lizewski being obsessed with eating pussy is so so canon (age him up please!). once he has a taste, all he asks for is more. he's so so greedy.

he'll eat you out in a heartbeat anytime you ask. prefers that to penetration sometimes and he can come just from tasting you on his tongue, his hips rolling into the mattress or humping whatever he can find.

he lives for overstimulating you and as you said, sometimes you'll have to pull him away by his hair (which only turns him on more 😔) and he'll look up at you from wherever he is, eyes wide and pleading.

"please, miss/mommy, please. i wanna taste you more. please."

he's so desperate it's almost pathetic.

you love the power you have over him and how wrecked he becomes for your cunt.

"you want me, baby? wanna taste me that badly?"

"y-yes, yes please,"

he'll beg so pretty on his knees, his curls a mess as his cheeks burn crimson. his neck is flushed as he sits shirtless and in only his bowers, the front leaking pre-cum.

"such a good slut for me. now be a god boy and kiss my pussy for a bit. no licking. not yet. and if you disobey me you won't come for a week, understand?"