#but his voice is surprisingly kind of more on the high pitched side?

[darabeatha]

/ I wonder what kind of voice they will give him when they release him, since we did get his 'boss' sprite but there were no sounds given to him in comparison to c.amazotz who did/does have voice lines

[maxillness]

So Pretty, And Just For Me || CL16 x Gf!reader

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, glasses!charles (he should be a warning himself 🤭), hair pulling, oral (M), google translate French, praise kink, sub!charles

Wordcount: 1.2k

She loved when Charles would stream. Not because he would spend time away from her, but because he would always walk into the living room afterwards with his glasses on

She would never admit it, but damn did he look fucking hot with glasses on. She would almost drool every time he had them on

Even with her long stares at him, he was totally oblivious to it

All she could think about when he has his glasses on was; how would he look while she fucked him with his glasses on?

One time, she couldn’t take it anymore and decided to act upon her thoughts

She bit her lip slightly when she walked into the living room, seeing Charles sitting with his phone in his hands

She quickly walked over to him, taking his phone out of his hands, throwing it to the side on the couch

He didn’t get to ask about her actions before she was seated in his lap and smashed their lips together

“Mmh… Baby. What are you doing?” He mumbled into her mouth as she started grinding down on him slowly

“Nothing. Can’t I just kiss my boyfriend?” She pulled her head back. Her hands tugged on his hair making him whimper and tilt his head upwards to get a better look at her

“You’re usually not like this” He said between rough kisses from the woman in his lap “I’m not complaining, but-“

“Then stop talking” He whimpered when she forced her tongue into his mouth

His hands traveled from her waist and down to her ass, palming her softly. She smirked into his mouth when she started feeling him harden under her

“Please, I need you” Charles whimpered as her lips trailed to his neck, sucking lightly at his skin

“I know you do” Her voice was confident as her hands sneaked under his shirt

One of his hands went to his face trying to remove his glasses before it got to heated, but her hand come up and slapped his away

“Keep them on” She spoke again before he could express his confusion “You look fucking hot with them on” She smirked when he whimpered at her words

He eventually nodded, agreeing on her request “Good. Thank you baby” She kissed his lips surprisingly soft

It was a struggle to get his shirt off because of his glasses, but it eventually got off. She got off of his lap, making him whine

She got to her knees in front of him. She hooked her fingers in the waistband of his sweats, pulling his boxers with it

He lifted his hips off of the couch so she could them all the way down. He whimpered at the way she kissed his inner thigh as he lifted his legs to get the sweats and boxers off

She scooted closer, in between his legs, making him part them more

He felt embarrassed like this; naked, exposed on their crazy expensive couch. They had never been intimate outside of the bedroom, so there was also a kind of excitement in his gut

She slowly started swirling her tongue around the tip of his cock, drawing out all the kind of filthy sounds she loved hearing

“Fuck. S'il te plaît, baby. Stop teasing” He bucked his hips up slightly, but it only resulted in her pulling away “No, no. I’m sorry. I need you, please”

He whimpered again as she started sucking lightly on the skin of his inner thighs. He threw his head back against the couch as her tongue grazed over the marks, easing the stinging sensation

He moaned loud when she got her mouth around the head of his cock again. She swirled her tongue a few times before she drove down, taking all of him into her mouth

“Fuck, yes, baby. Feels so good” His words were slurred as her head bobbed up and down his shaft “Yes, keep going, baby” He tried so hard not to buck his hips up into her mouth

“Tu es tellement chaud comme ça, bébé” She hummed at his words, making him moan in a high-pitched tone

“Fuck. Baby, I’m so close. Please, baby” His thighs were starting to shake while he twitched in her mouth

“s'il te plaît, je peux venir?” She hummed, giving him the permission to come deep down her throat

She swallowed it all, making sure nothing was slipping out of her mouth. She sat back, soothing and kissing his thighs as he came down from his orgasm

“You think you can give me one more, baby?” She asked kissing the inside of his thighs. A few seconds went by before he nodded with a low ‘yes’

“Good boy” She stood up, seeing the way he squirmed at the praise “Lay down on your back” She kissed him softly before he did what he was told

“tu es un si bon garçon pour moi, mon amour” She said as she got in his lap, legs on both sides of his hips

His hands went to the sides of her waist as she started stroking him slowly, making him whine in desperation

“Hands off, Leclerc” She said stern, but he didn’t react to her words. He could only moan and her touch

“I said; hands off” She stopped the movements in her wrist

“No, please. Let me touch you. Please, I’m begging you” He looked pathetic like this. Naked, begging, fogged up glasses, and messy hair

She didn’t wanna tell him again, so she took both of his hands off of her body, holding them above his head with one hand before she went back to stroking him slowly

“Be a good boy and so as I say. Bad boys don’t get what they want” She smirked hearing his whine

She sat up slightly, just enough for her to draw the tip of his cock through her folds, earning a loud moan from her

“Fuck, you’re doing so good for me, mon amour” She whined as she slowly sank down on him. He screwed his eyes shut and bit his bottom lip, trying to hold his loud sounds in

“I want to hear you’re pretty moans, Charl” He let go of his lip as well as his moans “You sound so fucking good” She praised him as she started going up and down on him

“You’re doing so good for me” Her own moans slipped out of her mouth. Her nails dug into his wrist as she sped up

The sounds of their mixed moans and their skin slapping against each other was filling the whole apartment, if not the whole complex

“You’re so pretty like this; fucked out, trembling, naked, sweaty. So pretty, and just for me. Only me” She started rolling her hips, making Charles’ cock hit the right spot inside her

He nodded along side a groan “Just for you, mon amour” Strings of French curse words fell from his lips, indicating he was getting closer again

“You’re gonna come for me, Charlie?” He nodded, arching his back away from the couch

“Yes, please, fuck. Can I come?” He always asked, even though she has asked if he was gonna come

“Of course, baby” She captured his lips on hers as he came inside her. The feeling of his cum inside her, send her over the edge, getting her own orgasm

“You did so good for me, love” She kissed the corner of his mouth, letting go of his wrists, letting him finally touch her

“Always so good”

[toxicanonymity]

the narrative.

4.7k, darkish!Javi Gutierrez x f!reader

"Control the narrative. You probably say that when you cum." - Roman Roy, Succession, s1 e1. PREMISE: Javi is in the middle of a publicity disaster due to his illegal activities and big mouth. Enter you (and he will). Penthouse vibe and attire inspired by Justified City Primeval. WARNINGS: I8+ ONE SHOT, dark(ish?) Javi, canon-typical lack of realism, drug references, gratuitous bulge, alcohol, praise, mention of someone sucking Javi's dick in the past, unprofessional behavior, power dynamics, pressure, DUBCON unsafe p in v (etc.), mild gun play, romance. A/N: Dedicated to @noxturnalpascal 🖤 Never thought I'd start the year with this guy, but thots happened. I only have one other Javi G. fic.

When you show up to Javi's home in the Hollywood hills, you're mildly surprised the car is stopping. It looks like any other skyrise. It's not his main residence, but he has the whole top floor to himself. You’ve refreshed yourself on the task during the ride – Javi Gutierrez is a PR nightmare lately, and he needs to be reminded how to handle press, especially questions about his recent run-ins with the law and ties to his family business. You'll run through a few practice questions with him, refresh him on the way to his event, and say goodbye. It should be simple. 

On your way into Javi’s building, the concierge greets you, then makes polite conversation as he escorts you to the penthouse. 

"Mr. Gutierrez already has company," he mentions as he uses a key card then holds the door open for you. 

You step into Javi’s apartment and the door closes behind you. It feels intrusive, just showing up in his personal space without someone to introduce you.  It's quiet for a moment, and you take in the opulence -- the sky high ceilings, the glittery floor sparkling under your modest wedge heels. You adjust your little black dress and fix your hair, then stand and wait with your bag.

You take a deep, calming breath. At least this isn’t a celebrity you have a crush on. He isn’t necessarily your type. He seems like such a teddy bear. He’ll be cool. He’s down to earth, you tell yourself, but can’t think of any evidence to support that claim. What kind of company does he have, you wonder. Is it a woman?

"One more, one more," Javi begs out of view, and your breath hitches at his voice. It's not the pitch or measured cadence you hear in the movies or even interviews. It's deep, gruff, and unpolished. "One more, Nick." 

Your heart jumps at the name. 

Nick sighs. "Alright, what are we drinking to?"

"Balas y drogas," Javi booms. (Bullets and drugs). "Brindemos" (cheers). 

"As always," Nick monotones, and you hear their glasses clink. A few seconds later, boots begin to click and echo, and they're coming in your direction. 

Entranced by the sparkle of the floor, you see a pair of snakeskin boots cross in front of you first. The boots pause, and your gaze pans up over his unexpectedly bare legs, which are muscular and only slightly hairy. Your eyes continue up over the swell of his thighs, and then–by the time you see it, it’s too late not to look right at it--a generous bulge under a blue striped swimsuit. You yank your eyes upward so fast, you almost don't see the gold pistol he’s holding at his side. Javi raises an empty highball glass, gestures it toward you, and you're studying the rings his hand when he complains, "You are early." He taps a ring on the glass and looks around behind you. “They sent you alone?”

“Yes, Mr. Gutierrez.” You introduce yourself. When you speak, he holds surprisingly warm eye contact, given his opening line. It feels like he’s really seeing you, maybe even connecting with you. 

“Please, call me Javi.” He walks around the counter and makes no effort to close his silk robe, trailing behind him.  "Make yourself a drink," he nods toward a wet bar behind him as he puts his glass in the sink. His curls are a mess, but he doesn't look bad. His strong chest glistens under his gold chain.  "Make Nick something, too. NICK--" 

"I'm right here, Javi. I really have to go." Nick greets you with an unenthused nod, "Hi,” then his phone rings and he quickly bids farewell to Javi: "I'll see ya later bud." Nick slowly staggers toward the door as he answers the phone. 

-

As the door closes behind Nick, Javi watches your face. "He has a key, you know. He'll be back," then he again urges you toward the wet bar, slightly more politely this time.  "Please, help yourself.  Why did they send you so early?"

"I'm an hour late," you tell him. His security team stalled you because he wasn’t ready.

He looks at his gold watch. "Mierda" (Shit). He meets your gaze again with apologetic eyes. "An hour late. . . maybe I do like you. . ."  The third time he refers you to the bar, you go around the counter and at least browse his liquor selection. 

A few minutes later, you're mindlessly reading the liquor bottles when you see a reflection in a bottle of mezcal. Something moves behind you.

"Tequila," Javi murmurs a few inches from your ear. “If you cannot decide.” You stiffen but manage not to jump, or so you think. "Relax, mamacita.” A large, warm hand comes to your bare shoulder, making your chest get hot. Javi’s lips brush the shell of your ear. “Relax,” he repeats. “It is only Javi.” He smells faintly of pipe or hookah smoke.

He lingers for a moment, smells your hair, then his hand trails down your bicep, and butterflies rush through your body so fast you have to step away.  He looks only slightly bemused. He checks you out even more obviously this time, then silently walks backwards through the kitchen, and you forget not to stare. You follow the way the light highlights his little belly. His happy trail leads you right to the slight swing and jiggle of the massive lump precariously contained by that swimsuit. How much of it is balls, you wonder. And at that moment, he reaches down to adjust himself before turning around and heading to his bedroom. 

Your face is on fire, and you’re tingling down South. You pour yourself a drink. You need one. The floor-to-ceiling windows offer quite a view of the city. It feels like Javi is taking a long time. In the distance, he begins to sing. You didn’t expect to be attracted to him, but now you have this feeling in your chest, like you’re waiting for a date with someone you like. Someone you’re still getting to know. You try to brush it off and not read too much into the look in his eyes. He’s an actor. He probably knows how to make people feel special, you remind yourself, but you can’t help but feel a little giddy as you wait. 

You take a seat on his velvet sectional. You sip your drink and begin to feel more confident. When you go to put your drink down on the nearest coffee table, there isn't much space amid the array of empty bottles and glasses, and a hookah. You set your drink on a silver tray, and only then do you realize you've disrupted the geometric residue of tiny white lines. “Shit,” you whisper. 

While Javi gets ready, you read some of his past quotes to the press. It messes with your head. Sure, he was rude to you at first, but then so warm. There’s one particular quote you’re stuck on. It isn’t too hard to imagine him saying something like this. You catch yourself feeling sad about it, not because it was so rude of him, but because of the insinuation of him with another woman.  In your mind, you know this feeling is irrational after having only interacted with Javi for only a moment. You have to compose yourself into professional mode again. 

—-

Javi returns freshly showered, wearing slacks and a patterned, long-sleeve, button-up shirt that hugs his biceps. He checks you out as he fastens his last cuff link. Then he sucks in his stomach and tucks in his shirt by shoving his hands all the way into his pants. He keeps eye contact with you as he tucks in the front, and finishes it off with a subtle cup of his balls. Then he stands normally again, and the curve of his little belly presses against the shirt above his pants. He doesn't put on a belt. He gestures for you to walk in front of him. 

Javi stays close on the way downstairs. On the elevator, you can feel his breath on your cheek. When the doors open, his hand on your back ushers you out. The soft padding of his stomach grazes your arm.

—-

Back outside Javi’s apartment, the car you arrived in – the one that picked you up at the Dobis PR office – is gone. You’ll ride in Javi’s car. His security team wants to accompany the two of you in the vehicle, and it’s clear they normally ride with Javi. But Javi convinces them to follow in another car this time. Just this once. You get into a black Mercedes sprinter outfitted with a raised roof, big leather bench seat, and a bar. 

As you settle into the van, Javi is making sure you’re comfortable, making small talk, and you just want to chat with him, but you do have a job to do. He’s sitting in the corner of the bench in the very back of the van, and you’re next to him, with your body mostly facing him. You begin to broach the topic at hand, distracted by his closeness and the aftershave molecules wafting into your nostrils. “Okay Javi, so, I’m familiar with your, uh, difficulties with law enforcement recently, and my role here is to kinda help you help yourself with that in the press.”  

He nods. 

“So let’s start where we are. Do you remember what you said when Page Six asked for a comment?”

He briefly leans in the opposite direction from you to open the minifridge. He pulls out a bottle of champagne. “Page Six, remind me which one is that.”

Is he going to make you say it? Fine. “You don't remember telling the writer her lips were made to suck your dick?” 

“That was out of context,” he mutters. You search his face for whether it‘s a joke, but he’s not laughing, and he’s not meeting your eyes.  

You ask, “Is there a context where that’s a good comment to make?” And you hope it lands softer than it sounds to your own ears. 

“Yes,” Javi nods and brushes a curl out of his forehead. He shifts in the seat and wrings his hand around the neck of the champagne bottle in his lap. “With a cock in her mouth.” Hearing the word cock in his voice gives you a zing of arousal. 

You’re at a loss for words. “Are you saying you weren't answering a question when you said that?”

“The conversation was over,” Javi nods. 

“--And she had your–”

“My cock, yes,” he confirms. “In her mouth.” He reads your face, then shrugs. “She wanted a taste of Javi, and I am afraid I could not resist.” Your mind is going places - How did that happen, you wonder. Did she just drop to her knees? Does it happen all the time? Could you have a taste of Javi? Do you want one? No, you don’t want to be just another girl.

You and Javi look at each other for a moment, neither of you completely focused, then you say the only thing you can think to say, “Fair enough,” as you close your folio. Then you can’t help but add, “Optimally, it's not the best idea to sleep with. . . certain people . . .who can make you look bad.” The thought falls apart as you watch his face, and you wonder if you're overstepping. 

“It was only a mouth,” Javi clarifies, then lowers his voice. “I would never make the love to her.” 

Now his eyes are fixed on your lips. His mind is going places. You watch him salivate over the shape of your mouth and don’t dare to interrupt his filthy train of thought. But that bulge in his swim trunks is seared in your mind. The subtle way it moved with each step. You have to stare at anything else to keep your eyes off his pants. You look at the bits of silver in his beard and the sparkle in his eyes

“Hm?” he asks and you snap out of your trance. 

“We need to control the narrative,” you mumble, as if you're thinking about work. 

“I don’t have a narrative, I have the truth. And the truth is too dangerous, mami.” He extends an arm behind you. 

The intrigue shakes you from your dirty thoughts. You shouldn’t pry, so you try not to, but having heard his explanation for the Page Six comment, you’re wondering if there really is a good explanation for how he got caught riding dirty with both narcotics and unregistered weapons.

He scoots closer, so he’s mostly on your bench rather than in the corner, and he extends an arm behind you. “I have to say, you are a smart girl.” He brushes your shoulder with his thumb. “Very pretty, too,” he adds quietly. “And very smart not to ask.”

“Thanks,” you mumble. What else can you say?

He looks you over, and his face hardens in an instant. “You should fire them,” he says. “They put a pretty girl like you in a van with me.” He scoffs. “They don’t respect you, I’m sorry to say.” 

What is that supposed to mean? You stare at him blankly, then say, “I can’t fire them, I work for them.”

“Well then you should fire your job. Quit it, the job.” You suppose he’s that out of touch. He probably doesn’t even know how much rent is in LA. Increasingly incredulous, he asks, “They sent you here alone?” 

Your mouth feels dry. You nod and try to swallow. 

His face softens. “No, please do not be scared,” he tries to recover, cupping your shoulder warmly with his palm. “But they should care more about you. You are precious.” 

“Well. . . Thanks, I think I’ll be okay,” you stammer.

Javi chuckles and locks all the doors to the van. Your upper body quickly goes cold as he settles in again next to you, his knee touching yours. How did he even do that?

He smiles darkly. “You felt that, right? In your spine?” His thumb brushes the nape of your neck, then the top of your spine.

You nod, otherwise paralyzed. 

“Fire them,” he repeats in a whisper.

You stand up just an inch to smooth your dress, and before you can sit back down, the van lurches out of nowhere.  You’re propelled face-first into Javi’s arms. The unopened bottle of champagne rolls away. Your faces are only a few inches apart. His shirt is soft, his body is warm, and you’re breathing his minty breath. The van lurches again and he hugs you into him, protectively. 

“I apologize, sir,” the driver announces through a speaker. 

You slowly begin to sit up from him. His arms are slow to release you. As you sit up, he lays a hand on your thigh. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“I should warn you,” he murmurs. “Traffic is very bad here.” 

—--

You sit there with Javi’s arm behind you and his other hand on your thigh, and neither of you speaks. He’s practically enveloping you with his whole body.

“You are thinking about it, right?”  

The pitch of his voice and a nod toward your skirt tells you what he’s talking about, and you don’t answer.  He takes his hand off your thigh only to adjust himself, and your face heats up. 

He sighs. “So, if you are the press, what should I say right now?”

After a loaded beat of silence, you snap out of it and begin to ramble, “Well, I haven't asked you a question, so you don't have to say anything, in fact, unless they ask–”

He reaches for your face. He rests four fingers on the side of your face, then brushes his thumb over your lips. “Shh. I won't say it,” he whispers. “That this press is the most beautiful girl. . .” Your lips part and let his thumb into your mouth, but your tongue pulls back.

“That I need her. . .in a way I cannot explain.” You gasp and look down. He takes his thumb  out of your mouth, then his hand drifts to his pants. “That I want to twist her legs around me like a pretzel.” The glint of his rings catches your eye, slowly moving atop his pants. His eyelids are heavy. “I should not say it, right?” 

You look at his mouth then meet his eyes again and shake your head no, ever so slightly. 

“But I can think it,” he whispers with a nod. “I can feel it,” he nods with a raise of his eyebrows. “Dios mio. . . I can have it.” 

He hugs you, slides a hand under your opposite thigh, and swiftly pulls you into straddling him with your knees on the seat and your skirt hanging loosely in his lap. You aren’t wearing stockings, but you’re wearing modest boy shorts. His hips lift up to meet you as he pulls you down with a sigh. His warm package feels even bigger than it looked. He closes his eyes and runs his hands over your back as your loins throb against each other. 

He holds your body firmly in place for a few gentle little thrusts that make you gush with each push of his bulge. Then, satisfied that you're not going anywhere, he pulls your face in for a long, steamy kiss, with his rings pressed against your cheek. As he feeds you his tongue, his hips keep moving, slowly pressing himself against you.

He pulls his face away and asks, “Do we have to go to this thing?” 

“No,” you say, pleased at this turn of events. He cups your head, and you explain, “Not at all. We wanted you to lay low. But you insisted-”

“I want to lay low with you,” he murmurs against your cheek. “Let me lay with you.”  Your insides are throbbing and swelling. His lips and the slightest hint of his teeth drag down your neck while his thick manhood hardens more against the crotch of your boy shorts. “I'll give you more than a taste, Mamacita. We're going to lay together.”  

He asks the driver to take you back to his place. Then he latches onto your neck, and you let out a little moan.  The van turns around to head back to his place. 

“I just need to text the team,” you tell him and get off his lap. You straighten your dress and begin to text your manager.  While you're on your phone, he keeps kissing and nibbling at you. 

Your manager calls, and you clear your throat. Javi occupies himself by popping open the bottle of champagne. You receive accolades for talking him out of the event. 

—--

When you're off the phone, Javi has somewhat composed himself. “Now we have all night.” He hands you a flute of champagne. A voice comes over the intercom saying there's a security matter Mr. Gutierrez needs to be briefed on. The van pulls over and Rafael, Javi’s head of security, joins you. 

“Your brother is back,” Rafael tells him. “And he's not happy about what you took.”

“Puta Madre,” Javi grumbles. “You know what he would have done with it.” 

“I know,” Rafi nods. 

“I have plans tonight, Rafi.” Javi looks at you adoringly. “The most important plans of my life.” He turns back to Rafi.  “Do you see this beautiful woman? We have plans.” 

“You have to stay with me,” Javi tells you. “I’ll keep you safe.” 

When you arrive back at Javi’s place, Rafi insists on escorting the two of you up to the penthouse. The place has already been cleaned up, and a maid is on her way out. 

“Thank you, Sandy,” Javi says as she passes by. She nods. 

——-

You excuse yourself to freshen up while Javi rants to Rafael. There's a crashing noise and you take your time coming back from the restroom, unsure what awaits. 

You come back to the main room and put your bag on a stool at the counter. Rafael is on his way out to stand guard by the door. Javi is sitting on the sofa with his pants off and his shirt unbuttoned, holding his gold pistol against his thigh. 

“I asked Rafi to give us some privacy,” Javi says. “We will not let this ruin our night.” He looks at you hungrily. “Come. Sit.” He makes space in his lap and looks down at himself. He’s wearing black boxer briefs.

You straddle him but don't sit yet. His free hand slides up the back of your thigh and he grabs a handful of ass. “You are the most beautiful woman,” he sighs. “And you feel so good in my hands.”

With his other hand, Javi nudges the golden gun under your skirt, and the metal on your bare thigh makes you flinch. “Shhh.”  He slowly slides the barrel along your inner thigh where the hem of your underwear is. He slides it lightly back and forth, breathing deeply through his nose. Then, his lips part as he rubs it along the damp crotch of your boy shorts. Your whole body erupts in goosebumps. He watches your face as he rubs you with the barrel of his pistol. He angles it upward each time he reaches your front. 

He palms your ass at the same rhythm as he massages you with the gun, as if encouraging you to ride it. Then he holds it still between his legs, pulls you closer against it, and your hips move on their own, seeking more pressure against the barrel. You twitch and gasp and he sucks in a deep breath through his nose. He moves you on the gun and you grind against the barrel until you’re almost at the edge and your thighs are trembling. 

“Good girl,” he sighs. He brings the side of the barrel to his nose and sniffs. Then he makes eye contact with you as he presses his lips to the side of the barrel and dips his tongue onto the metal.  He kisses the gun goodbye, then puts it aside. “I will keep you safe,” he reassures you again. 

Javi takes your hand in his and puts it on the hard bulge and you almost come. He’s so big, and so hard, the seams of his boxer briefs must be ready to burst. He uses your hand to massage himself. At the same time, he grabs the back of your head and pulls you into him for a passionate kiss. Your palm begins to massage his shaft. Feeling the hard shape of him, you can tell how thick he is, and it's more than a handful. Your fingers cradle his balls as you massage the lower part of his shaft. He pulls his underwear down and your skin meets his bare cock.

Both his palms engulf your ass cheeks and he lifts your dress all the way up over your ass so he can see your hips before desperately pulling you fully onto him. He smacks your ass, then kneads it again and licks into your mouth as he grinds up against you. 

He gropes your breasts and pulls your dress all the way up, taking it over your head. His hands find your bra clasp, and he frees your breasts, taking one to his mouth right away. He reaches into your smooth, stretchy boy shorts and gasps at the feeling of your bare, dripping cunt. He holds his cock in his hand and brings the tip to the bottom seam of your underwear. He wedges his cock into the garment, resting against your inner thigh, then a little further, and the bare skin of his tip nudging between your slippery folds makes you weak in the knees. He puts his cock all the way into your underwear from the bottom, wet from your slick, and pulls you tight against him. You grind together and his shaft massages your clit. The pressure builds and quickly boils over, and you moan as you begin to pulse against him. 

“Oh, my love,” Javi sighs, then moans as you grind and come against his cock in your panties. “Such a pretty sight and sound.”

With pleasure still washing over you, he wraps an arm tight around you, turns and lays you down on your back as your orgasm wanes. 

His cock slides out of your underwear as he makes space to finish undressing you both. He tears your underwear down in a frenzy and can't get out of his own soon enough. Within seconds, you're both nude on the sofa in the dimly lit room.

Javi sits on his knees between your legs and pumps himself slowly, belly pushing out, eyes dancing across your body. His cock is so stiff and thick, you can't take your eyes off it. You throb and ache for it. He runs his flattened fingers through your dripping seam and moans at your wetness. 

“I cannot wait another moment to feel you, my love.” 

Javi gets on top of you, his belly pressing into you as he positions himself then notches at your entrance. His gold chain hangs and grazes your chest. He hikes your leg up and you wrap it around him. 

“Good,” he whispers.

Javi shoves into you, punching the air out of your lungs with a brief burn at the stretch. He groans as he fills you with his flesh as fast as your body will allow. “Javi,” you gasp as his girth spreads you apart. His dick twitches at the sound of his name on your lips. He sighs your name and you're almost flattered he knows it, giving you a brief twinge of uncertainty that's quickly replaced by pleasure as he withdraws a few inches then slams into you. 

“You are so beautiful,” he pants as he begins to fuck you steadily. He kisses your chest and your neck. “It was fate that you came here to me.” 

He moans and grunts as he buries his cock in you. You wrap your other leg around him. His body is solid and soft against yours.  So much skin on skin and it all feels right. You feel safe, and you feel adored. The way he looks at you, the way he feels you, moves on you, it’s like he’s been waiting for you forever. He hooks a hand under your shoulder for more leverage, and the force of each punch of his hips jiggles your breasts. He slows down and fucks you more tenderly, but still with power. The movement of his hips is fluid and smooth. 

After a few minutes, he moans, “Ohh, my love,” then sighs your name. “I have to give you my cum, I have to give it to you.” You aren’t sure, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything to disrupt this moment. You’ve never had someone make love to you this way. “I’m going to explode,” he warns.

He buries his mouth in the crook of your neck, bottoms out, and groans as he erupts deep in your core, sending you for another climax of your own. Then his lips scramble up your neck and jaw to find your lips and he kisses you passionately as warm bursts of his cum fill you up. “Mmm,” he moans into your mouth as you clench around his cock. 

When you’re both finished coming, he stays inside for a moment. “We will be joined again,” he assures you as he pulls out.

He lays half on his side, with a bit of his weight on you for a moment. He strokes your face and admires you tenderly. You excuse yourself to the restroom, and he goes with you, escorting you to his master bath instead of the guest room you used earlier. He shows you his bedroom on the other side and says, “you will stay here with me.” 

-

When you come out of the restroom to Javi’s bed, you approach hesitantly. “Are you sure?” you ask. 

“I would not dream of letting you leave,” he assures you. 

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Meeting Jasper

Jasper Masterlist

Y/N drove down the highway, forest on either side of her for miles. It was pitch black out, with out even a sliver of moonlight to illuminate anything. She had her high beams on, but it didn’t help much. Suddenly, a deer jumped out into the road. Y/N swerved, slamming on the breaks. The deer leapt away to safety. Y/N breathed a sigh of relief, about to put her foot back on the gas when another, much larger car slammed into her from the other lane. The sound of metal-on-metal assaulted Y/N’s ears. Her car skidded, right into a tree. Y/N’s head hit the steering wheel, and she was out. The offending driver raced off, engine revving as it surpassed the speed limit.

…

Jasper made his way through the woods, looking for his dinner when he heard it. A terrible, loud scraping metallic sound. His red eyes widened, his head turning to the source of the noise. He scuttled over, seeing a car wrapped around a tree on the other side of the road. Looking both ways, Jasper quickly crept across the road. He examined the interior, seeing a girl in the driver’s seat, nearly unconscious. Jasper bit his lip, he knew his kind and humans didn’t mix well, mostly because of the latter’s fear of the former, but he couldn’t just leave her. She had a nasty cut on her head, possibly from the broken glass everywhere.

…

Y/N stirred to the feeling of being rocked gently, and the sound of footsteps moving quickly. She blinked her eyes open and looked up, trying to make something out aside from the splitting pain in her head. Upon perceiving this pain, she groaned quietly.

“Shh,” a voice soothed, “you’re alright. I know it hurts, but I’m going to help you.”

The paramedics must have found her, that would explain why there were so many footsteps- it must be a whole team. Her eyes drifted shut of their own accord.

…

When Y/N woke properly, she felt a gentle pressure on her head, and surprisingly, very little pain. She had been laid down on a soft surface, and she heard someone rummaging through something. She opened her eyes and sat up, though the action sent a wave of dizziness through her.

“Huh?” she mumbled.

Instead of an ambulance or a hospital room, she seemed to be in some kind of cave. On every wall of the cave, there were giant spider webs. Lanterns hung from some of the webs, illuminating the space with a dim glow. She looked down and noticed that she was laying in some kind of web hammock.

“HUH!?” she repeated, much more panicked this time.

“Oh, thank goodness,” a voice echoed.

Y/N whipped her head around (ouch) and saw something from her nightmares. The upper half of a human… with the lower half of a giant spider. Y/N couldn’t help what happened next… she screamed. A loud, ear-splitting shriek while she attempted to clamber out of the hammock. Unfortunately, she only managed to tangle herself up in it.

The creature held its clawed hands up in a placating gesture. It stepped over the first aid kit it had been rummaging through, and approached Y/N slowly.

“My name is Jasper,” the creature said, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Y/N’s breaths came in short gasps. There were many things in this world she was prepared to deal with, but spiders- especially human-spider hybrids- were not one of them. She tried to wrangle herself out of the hammock, but her leg was quite caught up.

“Please stop, you’ll rumple your bandages and pull your stitches,” Jasper said gently.

Bandages? Y/N put a hand to her head. Those weren’t bandages- those felt like thick, stringy webs! There was more webbing on her arms and legs. She was going to be spider-dinner! Y/N continued to struggle, as Jasper inched closer and closer. Eventually, he closed the distance between them and gripped her by the shoulders. Y/N froze in fear.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t have you hurting yourself,” Jasper sighed, “hold still.”

Jasper tilted Y/N’s neck and bit right into it, depositing his venom into her system. Y/N’s breath hitched; she immediately lost feeling in her entire body. Her breaths still came in short and fast, but she couldn’t scream anymore- she couldn’t move anymore!

“There, now let me have a look at you.”

Jasper examined Y/N’s web wrappings and tutted. Red seeped through the one wrapped around her head.

“I’ll have to redo the stitches,” he sighed.

Jasper untangled the hammock and laid Y/N back inside it. He went to the first aid kit and grabbed a needle and thread, returning to her. He pulled off the webbing on Y/N’s forehead and hissed in sympathy.

“Looks pretty bad,” he said, “I do wish you hadn’t panicked.”

Jasper made short work of the cut, stitching it back up neatly, trying to be as gentle as possible. Y/N whimpered as the needle slid in and out of her skin.

“Shh, all done,” Jasper said, casting his tools aside.

Jasper considered Y/N for a moment.

“I can’t have you running off as soon as the venom wears off,” he thought aloud, “I don’t want to scare you… but…”

Jasper spewed webbing from his mouth and began to wrap Y/N snugly in webbing. By the time he was finished, only her head and neck were exposed. Tears welled in Y/N’s eyes, and she whimpered quietly. Jasper gently laid her back down in the hammock.

“Try to rest,” he said, “I’ve given you painkillers already, but I’ll have more for you in a few hours.”

…

Jasper scurried off to the front of his cave. He paced back and forth, trying to figure out what to do. He couldn’t just let the poor thing go, she was injured, probably concussed, and he didn’t need her running off to the other humans to tell them all where he lived. He glanced back inside his cave. Well, she was pretty cute… maybe he could keep her?

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[dorianbrightmusic]

Tatsuya's Impressions: Four Stories.

-While Tatsuya's best impressions and imitations are those he does of motorcycle engines and construction equipment, he's adept with recreating sounds more generally, and, on a good day, will take requests/challenges. Once, he did a voice impersonation of Eikichi that was good enough to make a couple of Kasugayama students start sweating, terrified that he was lurking somewhere. He's also got the ability to conjure up a startlingly quiet, gorgeous impression of birdsong.

-Once, when Katsuya was being especially insufferable, odd noises started to sound out in the living room. For a while, Katsuya could swear he heard something quiet coming from behind the couch, then near the window, then, eventually, on the roof. For hours, Katsuya could hear some kind of an animal yelping and purring; when his mother arrived home, both were convinced that a cat must have climbed up onto the roof, but couldn't find it. When Katsuya went to go rescue whatever was trapped up there, fully prepared to take benadryl as soon as he came back down, he was utterly flummoxed to find nothing. Eventually, the Suou sibling's mother noticed that whenever Tatsuya spoke, the noise stopped. Tatsuya did a deliberately awful imitation of a cat to try to deflect blame; Katsuya realised, however, that Tatsuya's impressions were never that abjectly awful, meaning that it was almost certainly a red herring. At the time, Katsuya acted as if he were angry with Tatsuya for sending him up to the roof with confusion. Later, however, he's been caught laughing whenever the incident's been brought up—it's a rare good memory for both Suou siblings, even if Katsuya never had the gumption to admit to Tatsuya that he found it hilarious.

-Notably, when This Side's Tatsuya stays out late, since his father tends to be awake into the wee hours, he's developed a method for not getting caught walking in at 3am. That is, he'll throw on Katsuya's voice long enough to pretend he's coming home from a shift, and then walk as quietly as he can, trying not to be seen. It works surprisingly well, though he has been caught in the act several times. Notably, while the Other Side's Tatsuya had hijacked This Side's Tatsuya's body, he didn't tend to pull this trick when he came home. Seeing him enter the house at 4am without making an effort to be inconspicuous was a major sign that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

-As part of Gas Chamber, Tatsuya sometimes sings and contributes sound effects—while he's musically illiterate, he has a far better voice than either Jun or Eikichi, and can do more interesting things with it without sounding as nasal and Björk-y as Eikichi can. Usually, he contributes backup vocals and guitar, as well as the odd lead vocals on a soft ballad number (if Eikichi's feeling uncharacteristically humble). However, sometimes, Eikichi needs an ostensibly sexy female voice to provide spoken-word parts on a track, and as much as he loves Miyabi, her performance isn't great. As such, Tatsuya tends to read out this parts in a deliberately husky tone—he doesn't need to raise the pitch so much as change the timbre in order to conjure up a convincing femme fatale voice. On demo tapes, it's inconspicuous and well-mixed. Live, it's hilarious, since the single most muscular, manly man in the band is the one who's not only taking high harmonies, but filling in the female spoken vocal part.

[brw]

5 headcanons about Beast!

5 headcanons about Wonder Man!

And for an encore, 5 Wonderbeast headcanons. :)

For Hank!

Really enjoys cooking but does so extremely rarely because of the whole fur thing. Sometimes he'll just stand behind someone in the kitchen with his arms crossed like an Italian father at a construction site so he can feel involved. Jarvis quite liked having the company.

Has a quite deep voice, particularly when singing. My explanation is that he sings Sinatra in the tub and Sinatra's a baritone, and you know Hank has had enough karaoke nights to know his range.

We've never seen it but I choose to believe he visited Wanda and Vision and the twins at least once! Definitely brought a large collection of books that were way too advanced for some 8 month olds but justified that they'd be old enough for them eventually. It affected him more than he's ever really articulated that they never got to that age, because they were the first superhero couple he really knew to have a family.

I think the Scottish side of his family is from Nairn and I think he visited there once as a child and absolutely hated it but couldn't say this and slightly dreads the thought of ever going there again (his mistake was visiting over Christmas. Nairn in Winter is fucking miserable)

He's an anonymous patron to various art galleries and museums, along with Charles Xavier. Talking to each other about art is the closest Hank feels to Charles and is something he values to try and remind himself of all the good Charles has done for him and all the opportunities he's given him (said through gritted teeth)

And for SIMON.

Played the violin from a young age. This wasn't something he was necessarily forced to do but it was something he kept up for far longer than he would have liked to because of his fear of disappointing his father etc. He's still quite good at it but doesn't make a habit of playing. Eric was taught the piano and if Simon does ever play he's always imagining piano keys accompanying it.

To go with Hank, sings in a surprisingly high pitched register despite his actual voice not being that high. It just makes sense these two would match each other very well for karaoke. Does this count as a Wonderbeast headcanon. Oh well.

Puts on a kind of generic Californian accent most of the time but slips into that run-on, very fast-paced Transatlantic when he speaks to Eric and Vision. Occasionally Hank, if he's not watching himself, and it's something he's oddly self-conscious about.

Every time he returns from death his powers seem to jump forward. Part of his long standing fear of death was the knowledge that it came with him becoming more and more unrecognisably human. Going off the 90s Wonder Man solo, he probably should be able to stop time if he thought about it next time he dies but luckily for everyone he's not going to think about it.

The very few times something penetrates his ionic skin, the underneath glows a harsh magenta until he can concentrate on covering it up with human-appearing skin.

And finally! <3

They do each other's ties before any formal function. I think this started proper at Simon's first premiere and I think the few times they ever did stuff like that during Hank's feline form it's something Simon took very seriously and Hank was very emotionally touched by like the sap he is.

They would be extremely pretentious about their vinyl collection together. Sarah Vaughan is the soundtrack to every lazy Sunday morning.

They can't watch movies together because Simon takes a kind of perverse joy in telling Hank what assholes some actors are to work with or like background rumours and it completely distracted from what Hank calls his cinematic experience.

Simon isn't allowed to go shopping alone because once he bought an entire aisle's worth of eggs because he doesn't know how either shopping or the food requirements of ordinary people works. Hank can no longer eat omelettes as a consequence.

Both of them have pretty good night vision so occasionally they'll be up late chatting or basking in comfortable silence and absolutely scare the absolute shit of some unwilling Avenger coming for a midnight snack and sees a pair of glowing red and yellow eyes hovering in the living room. They make an accident but very creepy pair. Or maybe it's not 100% accidental, who's to say.

[fanficsthatmakemybraingobrr]

A Night In Cairo

Chapter 3

Indiana Jones x Gender-Neutral Reader

You’re a Intern at Marshall College in Bedford Connecticut and you work with Dr.Jones, but he sucks at his job and is never there and is always behind with work making you get the short end of the stick. Then he drags you on a trip to Cairo with him.

Once again I didn't really like how this chapter turned out, but otherwise I would really really love feedback and criticism. I hope you all enjoy and thank you for reading it genuinely means a lot! :}

link to: Chapter 1/Chapter 2

Link to AO3

You wake up feeling slight turbulence. You rubbed your eyes trying to get rid of your tiredness. Your eyelids felt heavier than before. You tried to focus on your surroundings for a moment then leaned up, took a deep breath and stretched your arms over your head letting out a yawn.

As you were fixing your laid back seat you looked to your side to find a passed out Indy with his legs kicked up on the table, his book sitting next to his legs, and his hat placed over his eyes softly snoring. He looked like he was getting the best sleep of his life the way he was passed out in his chair, How is he comfortable? Is he comfortable?

Your back and shoulder are aching from your chair. Your mind starts to wonder how long you were sleeping? It didn't feel that long but your body's pretty sore like you were laying on stone for thousands of years.

The same stewardess from before came out and announced that the plane was soon going to land and to gather all of our personal belongings so we can be prepared to exit the plane when we land. The stewardess's high-pitched voice woke up Indiana, he jolted up making his hat fall off and onto the floor.

“Huh?” you laughed at him as he gave you a puzzled look while picking up his things and putting them away. Surprisingly landing was less nerve-wracking than taking off; it didn't take long to exit the plane. Something Indy didn't bother to warn you about was the heat. As soon as you stepped off the plane your face was met with a blast of hot air, it was dark yet incredibly hot. Indiana led you to a black car with a man standing in front of it. It seemed like Indy knew what he was doing and where he was going. you started to feel a little uneasy again, You're in a completely different country right now you were so far away from home. Indy seemed to feel how Anxious you were, as you got to the car he stopped and turned to you.

“Hey relax, like I said this is basically a vacation there's nothing to worry about! This is something new, You should be excited!” he patted your back and you took a deep breath and smiled at him. The man near the car who you're assuming is the driver opened up the car's back door for you to get in. As you and Indy sat down The driver put your bags in the trunk of the car.

“You're right, I should enjoy this trip, Thanks for inviting me just next time please tell me in advance.” You looked at him with a half smile. Indy chuckled. “Yeah..sorry about that..” He looked out the window sheepishly. You’ve never seen him like this before, his usual stern and quiet demeanor has turned into a more relaxed attitude. Is he always like this when he’s not working? You kind of like it. ~~~

As you stood outside of the luxurious entrance of the hotel, feeling the awe and disbelief at the large building before you. The hotel toward above you, as you took in the beautiful architecture and impressive size. A man came outside and started to gather you and Indy’s luggage. Indiana looked over and nodded his head towards the entrance to the lobby. “Come on, I'll get us checked in.” You followed behind him as you walked through the doors. Stepping into the lobby of the hotel, you took a deep breath and scanned the opulent surroundings. The lobby was filled with ornate marble, rich woods and leather benches and chairs, and elegant chandeliers that illuminated the whole floor. While Indy walked up to the check in desk you took a seat. It felt incredibly luxurious and stylish, with people walking around and conversing in the bustling atmosphere. The posh ambiance had you feeling a little overwhelmed. You looked down at your clothes and started to feel like you looked out of place.

“What do you mean?” Indy exclaimed, the young man behind the desk shook as he was holding a pair of keys out. As you heard this you whipped your head around to look at the front desk.

“S-sir this is just what I am told, this is the room I was told-“

“No.” Indiana cut them off “Look here, I specifically ordered two rooms. Where is my second room?” the clerk took a deep breath trying to keep his calm, and not to piss off the grumpy man anymore than has.

“I'm sorry sir, b-but there must have been some kind of mistake with your reservation. We only have one room available to give you.” The archaeologist sighed and held out his hand.

“Fine. just give me the damn keys.” The older man grabbed the keys out of his hand and turned around walking over to where you were sitting. He tried to play it cool in front of you but you could clearly tell how pissed off he was. You had the thought of asking him if he was okay but you hesitated.

“Um, is everything alright what's up?”

“They messed up our reservations and they only gave us one room. I can try to talk to someone and see if we get another but..ugh they're probably booked.”He handed you your key as you listened, you realized that you didn't really care if you shared a room with him. What's the big deal?

“Indy it's fine really, it's not a big deal to me we can make do with one room. I don't think we'll be in the room all that much anyway. At least we get to stay in a nice hotel. I guess I've never been anywhere this fancy!” Indiana's face softened as your words sunk in. He took a deep breath and calmed himself down.

“Yeah, you're right it’s true. We could have just one room anyways and it is a nice hotel like you said.” He paused for a minute while looking at you “Let's just head up to the room then.” You felt oddly glad that you could help calm him down so quickly and that demeanor diffused.

The walk to your room was silent and not a word was spoken between you two. Indiana was stuck in his thoughts, he kept thinking about how you have this magnetic personality with a warm aura. It always makes him so tense whenever you're around and it almost pisses him off. However after months of you being his intern he ignored the feelings letting them swirl around inside of him. You both approached your hotel room eager to settle in and take a well-deserved break after a long day of traveling. When Indiana got up to the door he pulled his key out of his pocket, as he did so you watched. Your thoughts drifted to the features of his face: he always had a 5 o’clock shadow, the way he moved so confidently, and his hands– jesus christ he had attractive hands. Your imagination swirled in your head. Indiana fumbled with the key but eventually unlocked the door. You couldn't help but feel your eyes glued to his face and all his different features. The older man stepped inside and held the door open for you, motioning for you to enter the room. As he stepped inside you ripped your gaze away from him. You really got to stop thinking like this, he's basically your boss it's inappropriate to think of him in that manner. To distract yourself as you entered the room your eyes started around and taking the luxurious space. There was a bunch of fancy decor That felt oddly out of place. Your eyes landed on the bed spotting a beautiful outfit. It looked very expensive and you wondered why it was there. “What's this for? Do you think someone left it behind?” Indiana was digging through one of his bags when you asked, he lifted his head and looked at you.

“Oh, that? I uh… got that for you. I figured you might need an outfit.” He said sheepishly. He looks down at his bag. You stood there for a moment not really knowing what to say to the thoughtful gesture, you really appreciated it, you were also really surprised by Indiana's thoughtfulness.

“I um..thank you.” You picked up the clothing and felt the material was smooth like silk but didn't look like it, either way it was stunning. Your thoughts were interrupted when you realized there's only one bed in the room. You knew you were only going to be sharing one room but you thought maybe there were two beds or at least a pull out couch. This is what you get for not asking for details.

Indiana was unpacking his things from his luggage and putting clothes away and sitting down his other items around the room. He didn't seem to notice the predicament. Indiana turned to face you, he noticed your hesitation and nervousness. He raised his eyebrow. You act like that so often he's beginning to think that's just how you are. “I'm going to go take a shower. How about you get settled in and make yourself comfortable.” You silently nodded. Indiana stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. You wanted to bring the situation up about the bed but he doesn't seem to care or notice. You had an idea you walked over to the closet and grab the extra blankets and pillows and made a small bed over in the corner across the room. you ended up making bed for yourself. It was nothing fancy, but surprisingly comfortable.

A little while later you fell asleep on the makeshift bed. The duvet you put under yourself to act as a mattress was surprisingly comfortable, but it was still far from a proper bed. As you slept, Indiana finished her shower and stepped out of the bathroom. he stopped in his tracks as he noticed you on the floor in your own makeshift bed. He was surprised and confused for a moment. He was going to wake you up but you're already passed out. It was an odd sight for him that you had gone through the trouble of making your own bed. He scratched the back of his neck feeling bad. He's really starting to wish the reservation didn't get fucked up.

[heartsofminds]

Blooming II (Sneak Peek)

“You son of a bitch!” Bradley screeched, “I’ll fucking kill you!” or The precursor to Bradley Bradshaw’s commitment issues in the Blooming series. 

Warning: Contains curse words, sexual connotations, and a brief mention of an age-gapped relationship. 

A/N: Welcome back to the Blooming-verse, where our favorite aviator navigates where a certain youngster fits in his life. This is a preview of the second installment of Blooming to keep y’all satiated until the rest of the chapter is finished! Happy reading, and enjoy Naval Academy Rooster, a true blast from the past. 

i. 

It didn’t seem weird that fifteen minutes had passed and there was still no sign of her. 

As a means to prevent himself from worrying to death or pacing around the base like a fucking lunatic, Bradley decided to busy his mind by going over his ever-growing “to-do” list that he kept in the back of his head. 

Despite all the mundane tasks and intrusive and borderline obnoxious thoughts he had going a mile a minute in his brain, Bradley was surprisingly an organized thinker when it came to remembering all the things that he had to do. He carefully sifted through his responsibilities and assigned them blocks of time; effectively deciding where they would fit in his day before he checked his watch again and realized that an entire forty minutes had passed since he had last seen his girlfriend. 

Something was off, and the familiar impending pit of doom that often plagued his stomach made a reappearance as he sped walked up and down the hallways of the base. 

She’s fine, right? The base is huge and she’s terrible with directions so she may have just gotten lost, right? And figured that he would come looking for her, right? She’s fine. She had to be. 

And when Bradley rounded a corner and was met with a supply closet at a dead end, he paused at a loud thump that followed a high-pitched moan. 

“Oh God!” he heard a breathy squeak from a female voice, “Harder, daddy. Please, I’ve been so good!” 

The pit in Rooster’s stomach turned into a ball of fire. He recognized that wheezy gasp anywhere. Hell, he had heard it two nights ago when he had her face down in the backseat of her 2002 Ford Focus. 

He should be the only person eliciting those kinds of sounds from her. He had a death wish for whoever was on the other side of that metal door, because one thing about Bradley Bradshaw was that you never messed with anything that was his. 

Rooster kicked open the door with his fists clenched to his side. He knew his ears were bright red and he felt himself starting to sweat bullets through his uniform shirt. The anger was hot as hell, and if he was in a better mood, he would make the joke that hell was right in front of him.  

Her blouse was unbuttoned and it's been shifted over to one side of her chest, her nipple poking out through the gaped hole the button was supposed to secure. Her bra had long been taken off of her and the denim shorts she had worn to the base are hanging off of a random filing cabinet that was stored in there; showing that they were taken off in a frenzy. 

And low and behold, the man of his disdain (even more so now than ever before) was in front of her, hoisting her up around his waist and fucking into her relentlessly. His uniform top was unbuttoned and his slacks were limp around his hips. 

The sudden kick of the door opening did little to interrupt them, but Jake noticed Bradley standing in front of them; a damn near homicidal gleam in his eye and his entire body flushed pink with red hot anger. And like the asshole that Hangman is, he sent him a smirk and a wink before leaning forward to suck a hickey behind the redhead's ear. 

“You son of a bitch!” Bradley screeched, “I’ll fucking kill you!” 

[those-late-night-feels]

Letters

Part 4

Summary: Writing everything down should help you process your feelings. Somehow it always turns into letters to him.

Warnings: Grief, angst, smut.

March 29

When I first met you, I thought your heart was the coldest thing in the world. But nothing could top the biting freezing water when I submerged in that lake. The impact on my bones hitting the cement-like water rang through my body. Every inch of my body felt like fire ants biting at me and I twisted and turned to find a way back up to the surface. But that man was everywhere and no matter how hard I tried, he wouldn't let up. His large hands encircled my neck, closing my windpipe. My mind wandered, was this a dream? This couldn't possibly be how I was meant to die. It had to be a dream. My movements weren't fast enough. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't feel.

And then, he just let go. The water turned dark. Red. My focus blurred, unreliable, but there you were, an arm wrapped around and pulling me to the surface. My body must have acclimated to the cold, because it didn't feel any colder at the water's edge, even though we could see our breath. I was choking, gagging on hands and knees, trying painfully to fill my lungs. You snapped your neck to the side and were instantly dry.

"Come here," you motioned with a sense of urgency. "I need to get you back."

There was this surreal calm as you held me in your arms and transported us back to the hotel room. I remember how dark and quiet it was, the only sounds your steady breath, my impending chattering teeth. It was the safest I'd ever felt.

"Take off your dress," he whispered back in the room. Eyebrows drawn in, your voice was lost, body starting to violently shiver for warmth. He swiftly unbuttoned his cufflinks, removed his shoes while you stood there, a dripping stone of a mess. "I shouldn't know human anatomy better than you, darling. You're in danger of hypothermia. You need my body heat."

Brain feeling scrambled, you nodded slowly but still were frozen in a trance. It hurt to move a muscle. He pulled his shirt off quickly and noticed your lack of movement. His eyes were kind, but filled with worry. The zipper of your dress gave a high pitch whine as he released it behind you and the heaviness of the soaked fabric made the dress drop like a rock to the floor.

He whispered, "I'm sorry," so gently, you almost didn't hear him. And then your breasts were released from the cage of your bra. His eyes met yours as he picked you up and carried you to the bed.

"I've got you girl," he whispered and laid you in the bed, blankets pulled above your heads. His arms wrapped around you, legs tangled together. When had he removed his pants? Chest pressed to chest, his heart beat hard against yours. The irony of a frost giant attempting to warm you would have made you laugh if you could. His palm ran circles on your back, your body convulsing against him.

He was very aware of the intimacy of the moment. The curvature of your breasts pressed up to him, the softness of your skin as he ran his hand gently along the peaks and valleys of your body. If this weren't a life or death situation, he would have allowed those lingering thoughts of taking advantage of the situation. He was wildly attracted to you, as much as he tried to deny it to himself. But, you were also pure, and good, and surprisingly more innocent than he had ever imagined.

"What were you thinking?" Your eyes shot to his, pulling you from your own thoughts. You attempted to open your mouth, but your words were slurred and staggered, an awful attempt at defending yourself. His palm left your back to brush the damp hair from your forehead and cheek. "Fighting is in your blood as much as it is in mine, I know this. But I don't understand how you mortals can sacrifice yourselves so easily."

His thumb ran along your cheekbone. "I would have never forgiven myself if–" he trailed off and you closed your eyes, wrapping your arms around his waist, pulling him tighter to you.

April 6

I miss your touch. I miss your kisses. I miss sparring with you and how much of a pompous ass you were when you'd beat me. I miss the look you'd give me when I'd beat you. I miss the little tricks you'd play on me with your seidr. I miss feeling you in my arms, around my legs, within my everything.

Your eyes opened to the slow methodical circles of his hand on your back. It was still dark, the only light coming from the city glow, which reflected off Loki's face. The shivering had stopped and your skin had warmed. He no longer felt like a burning fire to your skin, and instead you became very aware of every inch of him still wrapped around you. The thump of your pulse picked up speed and, noticing the small change in the rhythm of your breath, his eyes cracked open.

"You're awake," he whispered, his palm pausing mid-movement to rest between your shoulder blades.

"So are you," you replied. He could feel your heart beating fast pressed up against him. It wasn't every day that you awoke in a large plush bed with a semi nude god wrapped around your naked frame.

"Yes, well, I couldn't quite sleep knowing the condition you were in." His palm retracted from your back and a little part of you internally frowned. "You had me quite worried for a moment."

You scoffed at him in a mocking tone. "You should know I'm tougher than that, Loki. A little ice water isn't going to take me down."

He hummed in response and you could feel him retreating. No, don't go. Your palm slowly slid into his much larger hand. "I… I'm sorry. You–I mean, you…," a long sigh escaped. "Thank you, Loki."

Propped up on a pillow on his side, he considered you lying next to him. Had his eyes dropped to your lips, or were you imagining it? He grabbed the sheets draped on your bicep and pulled them over your shoulder. "I should let you rest," he said with a sigh.

He pulled himself up toward the edge of the bed, sheets and blankets tumbling off his bare chest down to his lap. His back to you, he shut his eyes, jaw flexing. He would not take advantage of you.

Holding the sheet tightly to your chest, you grabbed his hand at the edge of the mattress. He turned toward the hand, then your face as you pulled yourself to him, wordlessly pressing your lips to his. He may have no longer felt like fire, but his lips were a burning heat that you wanted to consume. He froze, torn between wanting to press you into the mattress, and needing to hold himself back. When you pulled inches away, searching his eyes for an answer to an unasked question, you were met with conflict.

Taking a breath, he reached to tuck a stand of hair behind your ear, your name a sigh on his lips.

"Please don't make me do this," he whispered into your mouth.

It wasn’t the words you were expecting and you rested your forehead to his, answering him quietly, “What am I making you do Loki?”

Lips hovering, like a game of how close one could get without touching, his breath felt warm on your lips, his scent intoxicating. “You don’t know what you’re doing, girl. I won’t stay on Midgard forever. I'm not– it wouldn't be what you want."

You smiled. He was trying to protect you, again. "And what do I want?"

"Someone who matters."

"Yeah," you agreed. You leaned away from him and dropped your arm that held the sheet to your chest, pooling at your waist. He was very good at keeping his composure, but you could still see his mouth gently opening, his eyes trailing down to take in your soft curves, nipples peaked. "I'm not asking for forever, Loki. I'm not some silly girl with my head in the clouds. But I know what I want."

"Norns," he whispered under his breath, leaning closer toward you. You felt as his fingertips dragged up your ankle to your calf, the back of your knee, the meat of your thigh. You leaned back as he crawled up to you, breath shaky as he hovered above.

"Are you sure?" he asked, giving you a way out.

"I'm yours," you whispered, and it was like a switch flipped. One hand gripped onto your hip, the other tangling in your hair as his lips trailed down your neck.

"Say it again," he growled, large hands exploring new areas. He consumed you, big and broad and warm and everywhere.

You moaned from the attention. "I'm yours Loki."

He pressed his lips to your again, using his tongue to slowly part your lips, the whisper of a moan erupting from within him. Your heart beat faster and faster in rhythm with his.

Maybe I've always been yours. Even before you arrived on Midgard, before the chaos, the attack, before everything, maybe the stars knew that I was yours and no one else's. You looked at me like I was a treasure you'd been searching for your entire lifetime that night. You kissed me like it would be your first and last. Fingers mapped out each other's bodies, new discoveries and untouched wonders.

You'd taken your time, neither of us knowing our future together would be more short lived than we'd anticipated.

You paused to study my face, for any uncertainty, any regret. As if there was any doubt. I flipped you onto your back with a sultry smile, sitting atop you like conquering a mountain, and slowly sank down to take all of you in, shuddering and whimpering.

It was exactly what I had imagined, a painful pleasure that divided me in two. Your fingers interlaced with mine and you pulled yourself up to hold me in your arms as I rocked back and forth, acclimating myself to the new feeling. My name came out of your lips like whispered ecstasy. "You are a goddess."

Bringing your hands to my head, tongues intertwined, toes flexing to the heightened feelings.

"You okay?"

I nodded emphatically. Your hand drew down, first to my alert nipples craving any sort of attention. Flicking, fumbling, pinching, you pulled noises out of me that I'd never made before.

Your exploratory fingers went further south, causing a selfish whine. I wanted all of you everywhere. We looked up at one another at the same time, a mischievous grin forming on your face, a concerned pout on mine.

"Don't worry pet, only good things await you." Your long middle finger ran between my folds, flicking the bundle of nerves. I was a puddle in your hands. If you had asked me to leave Earth with you and never return, I would have gladly packed my bags.

My hips went wild with need, those long digits playing the harp on my clit.

"You ready to come?"

"Not yet," I replied, wanting this moment to last as long as possible, and somehow you prolonged it, a kiss here, a caress there, making my toes curl until I saw stars.

When I finally came, it may have been from the utter exhaustion that my body couldn't take it anymore. Out came a scream and then my teeth sank into your shoulder. I'd find out later that I'd bit you a little too hard, leaving a bruise that you didn't care to heal.

We laid in bed that day, you continuing to rub my back that would put me to sleep again. I was at peace, content and happy. Oh how I miss you.

[munsonsreputation]

hi kaaay! so good to see you're back! last week, i was re-reading this and it got me thinking about the first time they met. and i was listening to bad liar by selena gomez at the time, and the lyrics “I was walking down the street the other day/Tryna distract myself/But then I see your face/Oh wait, that's someone else/Tryna play it coy/Tryna make it disappear” stuck out to me bc sounds like she had family video on her route on purpose to see steve. i truly believe she always had a crush on him, and their friendship was like the first step to that thing that happens after the day steve rescue her (not gonna spoil it for other people hihihi). ok hope this is a good request! love you 💙

Effie!!!! Noah, Steve, and reader constantly give me life and this was such a fun and flirty request...I had a blast writing it with "Bad Liar" on repeat!!!

I hope you like it and thank you so much for your support and kindness!!! 🥰💋✨

“This is absolutely ridiculous,” you repeated to yourself.

Yet the voices seemed to be swamped out with every footstep you took that got you and your puppy Noah closer to Family Video.

Matter a fact, the entire situation was ridiculous. 

Your little crush on the worker named Steve all came from the first meeting you had. When your dog was in need of some a/c on a hot summer day while you were out on a walk. It just so happened that the doors to the store were left wide open and the chilly air was calling to Noah, prompting him to tug you into the store without even asking if dogs were allowed inside first. 

And even before you could ask, the brunette girl at the front desk hopped over the counter with excitement coated in her voice as she fawned over sweet sweet Noah. 

You were positive that the other worker who was tidying up posters on the other side of the store was about to kick you out when you could hear his mumbling coming your way. But instead, the same awe spewed from him, instantly bending down to pet your puppi’s head and peering up at you with an infectious smile. 

Steve and Robin. That were their names. Both of them more than nice to you and Noah. 

Especially Steve. 

He always had a bowl of water, and some treats for Noah tucked under the front desk. Whenever you and Noah would stop by occasionally for a visit, he’d rush to fill the bowl up when he spotted you two coming from the big glass windows. And of course, he always asked you if you needed anything. 

Some water. 

A candy bar from the backroom that was only supposed to be for employees. 

Maybe even a free movie. 

He was kind. 

He was also the person taking up a fraction of your mind, so much so that it should be criminal. Especially if it had you purposefully putting Family Video on your walk route just so you could talk to him for a few minutes and get to gawk. 

It was supposed to just be a teeny tiny crush, but it had snowballed into an enormous, not so subtle, king sized crush that had you seeing his face everywhere in people that weren’t him. 

But it had been that way because you didn’t like Steve just because he was kind. 

Steve was easy to talk to surprisingly enough. 

He always asked about your plans for the day or how university was going. 

He gave you movie recommendations and early dibs on new tapes. 

He told you about his life and the dweebs he babysat regularly. 

Gosh…he was everything you were dreaming of. Literally and figuratively. 

The ding coming from above the door is what caused you to jerk out of your thoughts and concentrate on trying not to think of Steve that way, despite coming here for him. 

Robin turned her head, letting out the familiar high-pitched squeal once she saw who it was. Leaving the tapes on the floor, she shot up, sprinting over to you two and holding her hand out for the leash so she could have him.

“Noah and our favorite customer!”

You giggled, moving over to give her a hug, stretching away when you heard the break room door open and the amusement coming from the charmer himself. 

Of course, he already had the bowl and a small treat for the doggie. 

“Hey dude.” He cooed, after he set down the water bowl and fed Noah the treat who instantly chewed it down with no hassle. 

The three of you shared a laugh before Robin wandered a wee bit away to hog Noah for herself, something she loved doing, but you never minded. 

“How’s everything going today?” Steve turned to you, that gorgeous smile on his face as he leaned against the counter. 

You took a deep breath, driving back your dreams before answering, “Great, actually! Noah, just wanted to, umm, stop by and see his favorite people.” 

Playing it coy. Maybe then he’d catch a hint of how you really felt. 

Somehow his smile got even broader, grabbing a brief glimpse at Robin who was baby talking Noah’s ears off and reverting back to you. 

God, your stomach was doing backflips and somersaults just from being looked at by him. 

“Well, you two are our favorite visitors. Especially mine.” 

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. 

Was Steve flirting back to you? 

Was the feelings reciprocated this entire time? 

Were you taking up a fraction of his mind? 

“T-thats sweet…so sweet!” You shook your head, mainly so your fallen hair could cover up the ever-growing blush that was bleeding into your cheeks, but it only made it more pronounced. 

The way you were avoiding looking at Steve, or even when you did, you didn’t look him in the eyes. Doing so would make you melt or set you on fire. 

He was delighted, taking a deep breath of his own and gesturing over to the section behind him, “We’ve got that movie you were looking for the other day…I can show you where it is.” He offered, and you nodded, trailing behind him as he made his way over there. 

The romance section. 

Steve plucked Dirty Dancing off of the shelf, grinning cheekily as he placed it in your hands. 

“I haven’t seen it yet, but Robin says it’s a good watch.” He informs you, watching you look over the cover and reader the words just to distract yourself. 

“I’ve heard the soundtrack is good.” You tell him, ultimately getting the courage to look him in those twinkling brown eyes that had you weak in the knees on command. 

He snapped his fingers, like something came to his mind, which he instantly reveals, “I’ll make you happy, baby, just wait and see. For every kiss you give me, I’ll give you three.” 

You're wide eyed for a moment, bemused at his singing and the effortless sway that his body takes as he sings the little snippet of the song before he stops, making you break out into a giggle and nod your head at him. 

“Be My Baby by The Ronettes!” You acknowledge, and he snaps again, the other hand on his hips as he cheers. 

“Yes, them! I like that song! My mom and dad play it sometimes.” 

“Oh, Steve, how much I want you to be my baby,” you think to yourself. 

Eventually, you and Steve found yourselves back at the front desk. Robin had gone back to working only because Steve had reminded her that Keith, their boss would be stopping by to check in on the progress. So Noah was back in your arms, along with the tape that Steve had already bagged for you. 

Despite him offering to cover the rent fee, you protested, claiming that he and Robin already do enough by letting you and Noah into the store without any complaints and providing free snacks and water for him. The least you could do is pay for this one. 

“Are you swinging by again tomorrow by any chance?” Steve proposed, resting his palms on the counter, eyes scanning as you go into your wallet and pull out some stray bills. 

Your eyes met his, then Noah’s, and then you shrugged, sliding the dollars towards him, “I’m sure Noah wouldn’t mind stopping by during his walk.” 

Neither did you. You didn’t mind one bit. In fact, you were already planning it, anyway. 

He looked down, fingers reaching over to count the bills as he smiled, already anticipating getting to see you and Noah. 

Quite frankly, the best part of his shift. 

“Good.” He said naturally, depositing the cash into the register and getting your change before splitting the receipt and handing it over to you, “I’ll see you tomorrow then…I can’t wait!” 

Your breath hitched, forcing out a smile to hide the surprise scribbled all over your face just by his tone and the way he seemed too eager to see you and Noah again. Taking the receipt and stuffing it into the bag, Steve reached forward, giving Noah once last pet behind the ear before beaming at you. 

“We can’t wait either…bye Steve!” 

You waved softly, twisting on your heel and calling out a goodbye towards Robin before you left out the doors. And of course, you couldn’t help yourself. Taking another glance back to see Steve staring. His hand wavering adieu but never the smile stamped on his face. 

So maybe you were a bad liar at hiding your crush…but maybe this was a chance to make reality actuality. 

[serenelia]

Adepti OC + injured Kazuha•°. *࿐

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Content includes: nightmarish descriptions, minor mentions of blood (it's only an illusion so dw), oc that is part of the Adepti.

Scroll away if you do not entertain the idea of a self-insert (kind of) oc, I do not take criticism towards it thnks :3

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A throb in the side of his head, sweat dripping down his face, drops of blood escape his clenched fist. Kazuha claws his way out of his own chest, black goo marking every movement he makes, turning red and dissolving at a touch. It fills the air around him, slowly making its way into his system through his mouth. Engulfing his lungs, making his efforts to resurface fruitless.

Somewhere, a high-pitched voice echoes through the void.

Each step takes you closer to your fate

...can you avoid it–

A sudden shift in his environment makes everything disappear; the dull colors shine a bright light that blinds him for a moment.

And it calms everything.

Floating there, his whole body and mind feel like he's in a permanent state of tranquility. Never has he felt any suffering beyond or before that point.

No confusion, no thoughts, nothing.

A needle lodges itself in his head.

He doesn't move.

He can't.

Multiple needles began appearing, and the pain doubles.

Yet he can't move or speak.

It stays there for an agonizingly long time, and the feeling of the pain only becomes worse once it spreads to his neck and to his chest, where it situates.

Suddenly, something grabs at his chest and yanks it away from his body—

A sharp gasp follows his wake, and Kazuha lunges his hand in front of him, moaning in pain upon feeling the painfully familiar throb in his head.

He clutches at his head, closing his eyes and furrowing his eyebrows, trying to clear his head to lessen the pain. His other hand came down to hold on to the soft blanket covering his lower half.

He halts.

Blankets?

The pain surprisingly fades away a breath later; a static-like feeling hovering over his head remains. Thankfully, it's not painful, merely a disturbance.

Kazuha lifts his head and is surprised to see he isn't in the woods where he originally was. A large peach-colored room with bookshelves filled to the brim with rolled-up paper and glass tubes replaced the trees and humps on the ground.

Windows cover every corner; a light orange glow shines through them, with wooden pillars holding up the mildly decorated roof. Upon closer inspection, he finds a lot of items floating in the air. Some follow gravity and stay on top of the wooden shelves; some defy it and float around, and even though air isn’t blowing in the room, the items move in different directions, almost bumping into each other. He looks to his left and finds an empty door a few steps away from his bed.

To the left sits a wooden table with medical equipment; as far as he can see, multiple pieces of paper with scribbles and pens float and stay on the table surface. A few decorations, like flowers, pots, and paintings, are sprawled on the table as well. He questions why the half-done paintings are along with the equipment, but perhaps its too early to judge.

Only the soft whisper of leaves brushing against each other, along with the howl of wind, could be heard in the room at his silence. For a moment, he lays there, thinking. Until a glowing figure appears at the very corner of the empty doorway. One would need to squint to even observe them due to the surroundings outside almost blending the two.

Kazuha would have been delighted to spot someone, yet when the mysterious person notices him awake, he was promptly knocked out, with the following words serving as his only warning:

“Ah, I’m going to need you to sleep a bit more.”

A glowing figure stands over a mortal in a secluded hut, touches as light as a feather as she held his face, two digits of her hand placed upon the side of his neck, the other coming up to monitor his breathing. Her sharp eyes taking his appearance down to the source of disturbance,

“Strong pull… He's running out of breath… Purple marking…” She presses her hand against his bicep, pulling up his kimono, “..yep, just as I thought.”

Lia clicks her tongue before withdrawing her hand off of the mortal, making haste toward the table to the far right, taking an empty canvas and stretching it on her way back. Once it has taken the shape of a scroll, she takes off his sleeves and presses the item on his skin. The white-haired mortal groans in his sleep, his face scrunching up in pain soon after.

The Adeptus remains unfazed by the reaction, finding it to be pleasant, as if he didn’t react, he’d be dead. Most likely, the incense and medicine are taking effect, and is making an excuse for the pain in his brain in the form of a dream. Not that she bothers to make sure he is.

She remains there, pressing the material on his skin as it burns through the spell of the mage. Thankfully, it isn’t far too late to erase the mark. Or else she’d have to cut off his arm for precaution. A spell cast by an abyss mage is no light matter. She wonders how he has managed to freely roam Liyue without the other Adepti taking notice.

After a couple more checks on the mortal, Lia leans back to inspect the arm carefully. Other than the injuries he had before, he doesn’t emit the aura of the abyss anymore, so it's safe to say he’s finished.

Lia sighs in relief, another danger averted. Now all that’s left is to dispose of this mortal out of her realm without attracting the other Adeptus’ attention.

She takes the used scrolls in her arm, placing them to float above her table. Eyes scanning through her old records after shifting the room at her command, the walls closed in on her, but not so that the patient would get hit. In hindsight, the room would look claustrophobic if you didn’t take her abilities into account.

With a flick of her hand, a scroll from the far end of the shelf floats toward her, stopping once she wraps her hand around it. As she was about to open it, a grunt came from behind. Her eyes widening upon realizing that was no other than the mortal she was treating earlier.

The sounds of sheets ruffling occupy her ears as she ever so slowly turns around. This was not what she had planned. He was supposed to remain passed out until she lets him out of her room at least! Is it possible for someone to be slightly less affected by her domain’s leyline?

She takes a step back once she has fully turned to face the mortal being, her eyes staring at his figure like a hawk. Meanwhile, the unsuspecting mortal remains oblivious to her disarray thoughts as he speaks in a very calm manner, “Greetings, miss, may I ask where I am?”

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reposts, likes, and comments are appreciated! Tell me your thoughts! The feeling of joy consumes me when I see the notification saying someone interacted ^^

[death-in-a-handbasket]

crawls over. kind of hooked on these interpretations if i may so humbly request the doa trio

Absolutely you may (I am 2/4 tasks done and this is my silly little treat for doing my work)

Fyodor

-more deep set heavily lidded eyes, very much dark circles, there is a hazy sort of shady look about his gaze and his eyes are a dusty light violet

-pronounced nose with a bump in the bridge <3

-pale, but less porcelain pale and more ashen pale, he looks a little washed out and frail in that sense

-high cheekbones, thinner chapped lips that he frequently bites to the point of bleeding

-he has two modes of smile, one soft kind of docile smile that makes him look kind of unassuming, and one thin smile with teeth that makes him look eerie and sinister. let’s just say his rat logo fits him

-shoulder length straight black hair, kinda greasy tbh

-very thin and kind of frail, not much in the way of muscle mass when it comes to this man, you can see his ribs and hipbones when he’s got no shirt on

-thin hands that shake with short bitten down nails and scabs where he’s relentlessly bitten at his hands

-prone to aches in his hands and spine from sitting at his computer for so long, bro cracks like rice crispies and groans like an arthritic old man

-runs cold and bundles up a lot because he’s always freezing, bro has hands like ice cubes

-smells like the air out the computer vents, dust, and the smell after it rains

-has a softer mellow voice harboring an accent, never a loud man, always softspoken and sweet even when talking about the most gruesome things

-has the same energy as a hermit you encounter in passing while on a walk that you’re sure knows more and has more secrets than you do just from the the look in their eyes

Nikolai

-dimples man, with sharp teeth and a wide jester grin that tells you he’s no doubt up to something

-broader more squared off face, nose has a bump at the tip, angular but with flushed apple cheeks

-his eyes damn near disappear when he smiles, half moon shape angled upwards with the left eye being gold and the right eye being silvery blue, always has that crazy gleam in the pupils

-likes to wear rouge, dabs it on his lips, cheeks, and the tip of his nose, sometimes uses makeup to accentuate his scar, there’s also always glitter on him. somehow.

-silvery white hair with a warm undertone to it, you can see a little bit of a dark blonde/tan at his roots and other missed strands in his hair

-built broad and built BIG. broad shoulders, thick thighs, smaller waist, definitely strong arms and legs, definitely built like an acrobat, bro is DENSE

-big strong hands, short nails because it bothers him while he’s working

-has a loud jester’s cackle reminiscent of Mozart from the movie Amadeus, very loud and airy voice, higher pitched when he’s joking, but when he’s talking normally it’s surprisingly deep, slight accent

-smells like lipstick, funnel cake with powdered sugar, and specifically spent fireworks

-runs warm, somehow always toasty, won’t hesitate to start stripping off parts of his getup because he’s sweating

-is a bit like staring into a whirligig firework, it’s beautiful, it’s out of control, you like it at a distance but if it starts zooming towards you you’re gonna shit your pants in fear

Sigma

-softer more delicate features, nice lips, pointed chin, very straight nose

-round eyes that are slightly downturned, always has a somewhat concerned look, like he’s the only one in the play (life) without a script, pale gray eyes that look lavender in certain lights

-flawless skin without effort, smooth and soft as cream

-built lithe, low muscle mass but not scrawny, graceful and perfectly proportioned, built like a nymph fr fr

-very silky split color hair but strands from the other color cross over to the other side at his roots, so sometimes his purple has white strands in it and vice versa

-soft flawless hands, long nails, has the occasional light freckle on him and sometimes a papercut from working with cards and money frequently

-doesn’t smile as much as he’d like too, any time he does smile it’s always slightly tinged with melancholy

-can present a calm and charismatic face but when he’s not interacting with people he always carries a kind of focused stressed look about him

-neutral, never too warm or too cold, but gets cold very easily, somehow has a higher tolerance for being warm than being cold

-softspoken and straightforward, is not loud unless he’s panicking, has a voice that puts you at ease, like a neighbor you’ve known forever

-smells like cucumber, the textiles at a craft store, and money

-has the same energy as a hitchhiker that you know must’ve run away from a worse home just from the caged animal look about them, something worried yet slightly hopeful despite the pessimism that’s been ingrained in them

[echo-echo31]

Ask: I was brainrotting about werewolf!heehoo a few hours ago and now you've worsen my brainrot please I wanna just wanna have him pin me to the ground and do whatever he wants with me

Hunting Season | Werewolf!Heehoo x GN!Y/N

Warnings: NSFW, predator/prey vibes, unsafe sex, slight non-con

You'd been told not to go into the forest.

To be honest, you'd thought the warning ridiculous. Spoken in a heavy country accent by the neighbourhood doomsayer like a scene out of American Werewolf in London. The whole thing had been so utterly theatrical that you couldn't help but scoff and walk away, convinced it was all a fantasy.

Now though, it was very, very real.

You're running through branches and leaves, mud squelching and making your steps unsteady as you move through the darkness, breath pranting but legs refusing to let you stop. You couldn't stop. You couldn't let it get you.

Somewhere behind you, a high-pitched, blood stopping howl echoes. You have flashes of piercing yellow eyes and bone coloured claws, remembering what it is that's chasing you.

But your body isn't made for midnight hunts and your foot catches on a broken tree trunk, sending you violently falling to the ground. A sharp jolt of pain ricochets up your arms as you try to catch your fall, hands slipping in the damp ground.

Your groan of discomfort turns into a whimper of fear, as you hear the footsteps of the creature approach from behind you.

You're expecting a roar, a growl, and then the sound of the animal taking its meal. Instead, the sound that meets your ears is a soft kind of humming noise, followed by actual, human speech.

"Followed you, from the cave. You should not have been in Heehoo's cave,"

Your brain can't figure out if this is less or more of a threat, and so you stay paralysed, body hardly even daring to breathe.

Whatever is behind you gets closer, and you can feel it's their? body heat and breath as they seem to bend over you, sniffing at your back.

Your throat betrays a small sound of fear again, and that seems to enbolden it. You see the outline of hands with those sharp, inhuman claws land beside where you head is laying, before feeling someone nose at your neck, breathing in your scent deeply.

A groan fills your ears.

"Smell, so good. So good," It's definitely the deep baritone of a male, and he keeps repeating this like a mantra, getting closer to your body before you feel the warmth of a tounge lick a stripe up your neck.

Something happens then, a change in the chemical signals in your body that flows warmth downwards and changes your voice to a deeper noise, almost like a moan.

You screw you eyes shut because no, this is not happening. Your brain is just messing up the context you are not getting aroused by this.

But then you feel strong arms grip your shoulders and flip you over with little effort and you come face to face with your predator.

He's surprisingly human. Long hair reaching his shoulders and muscles reflecting the moonlight in such an erotic way that its almost funny. His eyes are yellow though, shining like they're live flames, burning in the night. Also he's naked. Very, very naked.

The man kneels down, placing his thighs on either side of your hips and pressing his weight down. Again, that warmth travels through you but you try to ignore it because you should be scared. This should be terrifying.

Despite this obvious fact, your gaze is transfixed on those wolf-like pupils as he brings his hand to your head, and shockingly gently brushes your hair from your face.

"You smell me too,"

He brings his upper body down to your face and you're sure this time he might actually go for the kill before he rests his cheek on your neck and rubs.

You have no explanation for what happens next, only that he smells like pine needles and rainstorms and warmth and safety and lust and you're grabbing onto his back, pulling him in closer without realising it.

The man moans into you and you feel the shifting of his hips and oh god yes, that's exactly what you want.

You begin to rock back up into him, earning you a snarling growl and teeth nipping at your neck and fuck that feels good, why does that feel so good?

You don't get time to investigate further, as he then thrusts into you with force and you're abruptly reminded that he's naked, and is very much aroused by this as much as you seem to be. You feel claws scratching at the fabric of your shorts and for some reason your mind can't connect the dots.

That is, until you moan into his shoulder, panting, as he positions himself with a primal precision and you feel the tip of his cock push into you.

"Argh, yes. That's good. Good for Heehoo,"

You realise in a moment of coherent thought that this must be his name but find yourself once again mindlessly rocking upwards when Heehoo pushes the rest of the way in, filling you in a unprepared haze of raw need.

You're both breathing heavily now, the sounds of the forest drowned out by your moans and the blood pumping in your ears.

At some point, Heehoo leans forward to bite at your collarbone and you keen, legs coming up to wrap around his strong, muscled body.

You know nothing apart from this. Apart from him, thrusting into you and pulling you apart, wanting nothing apart from to let him take you like an animal in heat.

His movements get faster, more errartic and you realise that he's going to cum inside you. This feral man with eyes like a wolf is going to fill you with his cum and fuck it into you and you have no shame left to keep your eyes from rolling at the thought.

Heehoo grunts once, twice, before you feel his warmth spill into you and the feeling makes you fall apart, tighs clenching and eyes screwing shut as you violently cum for him.

As you suspected, he doesn't stop rocking into you, milking his orgasm and growling single words like "take" and "full" into your skin.

Eventually, he does stop his movements, head coming to rest at your neck as he laps at it as if tending to a wound, letting out quiet whines like a wolf.

You lie there, unable to think properly or even comprehend what just happened and why it felt so good.

You feel him pull out, the loss of warmth almost painful against the freezing night air.

Heehoo places a hand on your cheek, turning your head to face him and once again take in his glowing eyes.

"Mine,"

He growls into the night, and it's right then your sane mind realises you're screwed.

[helplesslyinlovewithcharacters]

Obviously - TASM!Peter Parker

Summary: (Y/n) and Peter are equally dumb. 

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Female Reader

Summary: Just something silly and sweet as I attempt to battle through writer’s block - enjoy!

“Would you stop?”

(Y/n) did not, for a moment, consider stopping. There was pride and money at stake. Dismissing the churn of embarrassment and guilt in her stomach as the barista’s stare bore into her, (y/n) continued to press her weight into Peter’s side, feebly attempting to shift his hand and, more specifically, his credit card, away from the card machine. Her own card was mere millimetres away from the machine, but she couldn’t close the distance.

Peter was surprisingly sturdy. She chose not to linger on that thought.

With a sigh, Peter rested a hand on her shoulder, gently manoeuvring her out of the way before he offered the barista an apologetic smile. Her defeat was signalled by the high-pitched beep the machine omitted.

“For god’s sake, Parker” His raised eyebrow silenced her rebuttals as he ushered her away from the till. “It was my turn –”

“Its fine” He softened, sternness slipping into an easy smile as he curled an arm over her shoulder and bumped his chin against her temple. “Just wait for your coffee”

“But –”

“(Y/n/n)” Unimpressed by his moral high ground, she knocked her elbow into his stomach. The quiet oomph that parted his lips made her laugh until he pinched her hip in retaliation. Her remaining dignity and sense of decorum were saved by the call of their order.

Peter pressed the to-go cup into her hand before ushering her out of the café, a lazy smile turning his lips.

In a final effort, (y/n) levelled him with a glare. “It was my turn to pay”

With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, Peter fell into step beside her. “I told you, its fine”

“Parker”

“I wanted to buy you a coffee, okay?” His smile sharpened as he knocked his shoulder into hers. “I may be regretting that decision now but –”

Her brow furrowed. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you want to buy me coffee?” (Y/n)’s mind snagged, tangling and catching on the words. It wasn’t unlike Peter to be kind. He was generous to a fault. But there was something behind the statement, hidden in the softness of his voice, far softer than their usual back and forth. Her inability to complete the puzzle stirred the nerves in her stomach.

Features falling into an exasperated frown, Peter half laughed, half sighed. Coming to a stop, he appraised her carefully, resolute in whatever answers he found.

“Do you realise we’ve been dating for the past two months?”

She blinked, jostled by the rush of strangers impatiently shifting around them as they blocked the pavement. “What? No, we –”

In a moment, everything reconfigured itself around the single axis of the implication of his questioned. They were friends. They were still friends. But somewhat inexplicitly, something had changed. There was no exact moment that could account for the trip in her heartbeat or the rush of affection that had accompanied their interactions recently. But there it was. It had materialised over time, patient and permanent. Shit. “Shit – we have”

Peter had the audacity to laugh.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Ordinarily, she would have recoiled from the escalating pitch of her voice. Embarrassed by her talent for the dramatic. But not now, not when he was looking at her like that. All amused and adoring and fucking soft.  

“It’s pretty obvious, sweetheart”

“Apparently not”

He opened his mouth, ready to disagree, before she held up her free hand. “Hang on, hang on”

Buffeted by passing strangers, (y/n) couldn’t focus on the enormity of what Peter was implying. Impatient, she threaded her fingers through his, joining the fray of pedestrians until they passed the opening of an alleyway.

Peter grimaced. “Nice – it’s so romantic”

Face devoid of humour, (y/n) released her grip on Peter’s hand, jabbing an accusatory finger at his chest.

“Explain. Now”

Mouth twisting into a near pout, Peter sipped his coffee. He relented under the pressure of her expectant gaze. “What with all the dinners, the flirting, and the cuddling, I thought it was fairly self-explanatory”

He lifted an arched brow as she stated at him, agape.

“But we always do that”

“So, what you’re saying is, we’ve been dating for three years?”

“You’re funny”

His lips quirked into a pleased grin. “Hilarious, I know”

“This is serious”

He paused for a moment, his gaze jumping from stranger to stranger as they passed the mouth of the alleyway until it settled back on her, resolved and resolute and so ardent. “Yeah, yeah it is”

“Do you – If we’ve been dating, for whatever amount of time, does that mean that you,” She floundered under his gaze, unsure of the magnitude he would allow. “Does that mean you like me?”

It was childish and too small, but it was all she had the confidence for.

“It means I love you, sweetheart”

Despite herself, a smile curled her lips. Warmth bloomed in her chest, nestling comfortably beside the affection she’d denied and ignored for far too long. Slowly, (y/n) stepped closer, swaying into the comfort of his warmth.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Colour bloomed on his cheeks. “Would you believe me if I said I thought you knew?” It was his turn to splutter and fidget, her eyes tracking the movements with what she quickly recognised as fondness. “I just thought we were taking it slow”

“You’re lucky I love you, dumbass”

“I’m the dumbass? That’s rich, baby”

The smile on his face was her favourite, broad and indulgent as it creased the skin around his eyes and stirred the warmth in his voice.

Almost shy, he cupped her jaw, his thumb tracing the swell of her bottom lip.

The breath rattled in her lungs, as she inched closer. “I’d say we’re even”

Peter hummed in the back of his throat, far too focused on the press of her lip against his skin. Slowly, he guided her closer, slotting his lips over hers. (Y/n) sighed into the kiss, moving with Peter as he licked into the cup of her mouth. It was tender and nervous, and it cracked her heart open.

Twisting her fingers into his hair, (y/n) pressed closer, consumed by the potential for more. For the possibility, the promised permanence of this becoming another part of them.  

Reluctant to move, Peter pressed one, two more kisses onto her lips before allowing a breath of space between them.

“Now we’re even”

[miekasa]

positions

+ pairing: eren jaeger x (fem) reader

+ genres and warnings: modern au, explicit smut (18+ only), eren is annoying but he’s also hot so it makes up for it i guess 🙄

+ word count: 3k

+ notes: i don’t want to talk about this actually, so if you see it, no you didn’t </2 i kind of got carried away with number three. sorry.

+ summary: eren just likes it with you—will take you however you want him to; but he does have a few favorite positions.

i. missionary — (i’m trying to meet your mama on a sunday, then make a lotta love on a monday).

Eren always did like looking at you. He thinks you’re gorgeous, sexy, and so, so, pretty; all the time, but especially like this.

Because there isn’t anything he likes more than watching you squirm because of him; breath unsteady and voice whiny because of him.

“You’re so pretty, aren’t you?” Eren asks, but question is rhetorical; and you’re barely coherent enough to answer him—like he’s fucked you stupid.

“Course you are,” he answers for you, reaching his right hand up to slip his pointer and middle finger past your lips.

You moan around him, warm, wet heat compassing his digits as you let Eren’s fingers fuck your mouth in sync with him thrust into your pussy. It’s only when he feels your spit pooling on your tongue that he pulls them out, immediately using the soaked fingers to further abuse your sensitive clit.

“My pretty, pretty girl,” Eren sings, tapping at your clit in sync with his repeated words.

Eren smirks through his pants as he drinks in your fucked-out state. He likes the way your eyes are screwed shut, high-pitched moans barely squeaking out as you grip at the sheets. Your back arches when he snaps his hips harder, deeper, and—oh, no, that won’t do.

“No, no, baby be good,” he coos, reaching his hand to press over your tummy and flatten your back to the mattress.

“Eren, please,” you barely choke out, head writhing against the pillow, “Just wanna come, please.”

“Just wanna come?” he repeats, but his tone is taunting, almost fiendish at this point, “‘M not stopping you baby, all you have to do is be good for me.”

“I am good,” you insist, words rushed, desperate, “I’m good for you—your good girl, Eren.”

Eren hums at your words, and bends his knee onto the bed, groaning after you as he hits a spot deeper inside of you. He moves his left hand off of your stomach to support himself on the mattress, and reaches his right hand up, crawling up the column of your throat.

He pinches his pointer finger and thumb at your jaw, leaning down until the tip of his nose brushes against yours, “Open.”

He barely waits until there’s a gap between your lips before he pries your mouth open himself with his thumb, the pad of his finger pushing against your tongue. He flashes you a sadistic smirk before spitting into your mouth, the tip of his tongue grazing against yours before retreating back into his mouth, “Swallow.” 

Your breath is unsteady as your do as you’re told, opening your mouth again to show him just how good you listened; how good you are. A smile washes over his face for a second before he leans forward to kiss you—the kind of kiss he gives before he’s about to fuck you silly, “Good girl.”

ii. against the wall — (cookin’ in the kitchen, and i’m in the bedroom)

Eren isn’t a good cook and he knows it. He’s not terrible—he won’t starve if he ever lived on his own, but he’s no master chef.

It’s probably why he likes watching you cook so much. He would say he likes to help, too, but that would be a lie; he just likes being your taste tester, and distracting you a little bit while he’s at it.

“Did you set the oven to 400?” you ask him, back turned as you pick a wooden spoon from the drawer and bring it to the bowl.

Eren hums, eyes flickering to the oven to ensure that he did, indeed, set it to the right temperature, before taking the few steps necessary to close the distance between you two. Slowly, he wraps his arms around your waist, lightly draping his body over yours as he watches you stir the batter.

“Smells like lemons,” he notes, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Probably because we’re making lemon cake,” you chuckle, bringing your stirring to a stop.

You dip your pointer finger carefully into the batter before bringing it to your lips. You crinkle your nose a bit, before dipping you finger back into the batter, this time hovering it in front of Eren’s lips, “Here, taste. Do you think it needs more sugar? Or maybe vanilla?”

Eren’s gazes flicks from your batter-coated finger, then to your eyes, like a magnet; green growing cloudy with arousal. Carefully, slowly, he pushes forward until his lips wrap around your finger, teeth grazing your digit when he pulls back.

“No,” he answers, voice raspy, “It’s perfect.”

“You sure?” you question, words genuine and innocent; oblivious to the angle he’s playing at.

Eren unwraps his arms from your waist, steps back far enough to allow him to spin you around, you lower back pressed into the counter, and eyes wide. He smiles, reaches his hand into the bowl, but instead of waiting for you to taste it, he brushes it against your mouth, before forcing his finger past your lips, just far enough to clean the remaining batter against your tongue.

“Positive,” Eren says, before bruising his lips against yours in a kiss. Quickly, his tongue flashes to swipe against your bottom lip, bringing sticky, sweet cake batter into your mouth.

Then, he lifts you, skillfully moving the bowl aside to make room for you on the counter; knocking over measuring cups and utensils in his path that are sure to leave a mess, but right now you don’t care. Eren always did like things messy, after all.

Eren’s hands paw at the hem of your shirt, clumsily pulling it over your head. He hisses when you tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him back down into a searing kiss, and biting at his lower lip in revenge.

A yelp of surprise leaves yours lips as he grips under your thighs and picks you up from the counter. Eren groans when your tangle your hands into his hair, using it as both leverage and support.

“Fuck,” he mutters when you accidentally press yourself against his bulge in an attempt to tighten your legs around his waist. You pull away slightly, breath tickling his face as your eyes jump from his to his lips.

Carefully you comb your fingers through his hair again, elbows resting on his shoulders as you catch your breath.

“Question,” you pose, breathing heavily through your syllables, “How long do you think you can hold me up for?”

“Like this? A while, probably.” Eren replies moving his hands up from under your thighs to your ass.

“But like this,” Eren takes a few steps forwards until your back is pushing against the wall. He smirks when he sees the small gape at your mouth, and squeezes at your ass to exaggerate your expression, before leaning into to whisper in your ear, “A whole lot longer.”

iii. double date — (this some shit that I usually don’t do, but for you I kinda want to)

Armin’s fingers are, surprisingly, rough. More calloused than you would think; for the rest of him is all soft edges and round features; all smooth and nice and kind and good. 

But, not like this. The Armin whose eyes gaze up at you from your legs is hardly anything like that. He’s not the Armin you know; this one is teasing, relentless, almost manic; he’s mean and he knows it.

You can see it in his eyes, that the Armin you know and love is nowhere in sight. Because when Eren pushes his finger inside of you next to Armin’s, you swear those clear, blue eyes that are usually so bright become icy with intent. 

“She’s so pretty, Eren,” Armin says to his friend, but his gaze is on you as he twists his finger inside, knuckles bumping against Eren’s. You throw your head back with a grunted moan, and barely have the strength to hold it up again to see Armin’s smirk, “So pretty.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Eren coos, green eyes smiling at you.

It’s almost too much, the both of them looking at you from between your legs. You’re not sure which one to focus on—if you have the strength to meet either of their gazes for more an a second before screwing your eyes shut, overwhelmed by it. The attention, the feeling, the shared lust is all too much.

“Armin, hold on, let me—” Eren grunts, twisting his finger inside of you, so that it intertwines with Armin’s, “There we go.”

The sensation drives you crazy, the feeling of their fingers brushing against each other—brushing against your walls makes your head spin, and you curl your own fingers into a ball at your sides. It’s only two fingers—but it feels foreign, new, too much; it makes you thrash, they way they pump their digits inside of you, perfectly in sync, perfectly full every time.

It’s new to you, but Eren and Armin have always been best friends; it’s not abnormal for them to share. And they do it so well.

“Eren, Armin, I—” you call, almost wail at you feel someone’s fingertips brush past your weak spot, “Please.”

Your hips rise as you groan with the feeling, and as if rehearsed, the both of their free hands are quick to snap you back against the mattress. When you look down at them, Eren has a dirty look in his eyes, but Armin’s is dirtier—as if you let you know that that he did that; that he planned it, too.

“Don’t be rude,” Eren tuts, “Armin’s being so nice to you, so be good for him. Be good for us.”

You almost want to cry—if this is his nice, you’ve severely underestimated the Armin Arlert you know.  

“You wanna come, yeah?” Armin asks you, with a tone so light and genuine, you would never think he’s capable of anything he’s currently doing.

You nod your head embarrassingly quickly, a stuttered moan slipping out as both boys tighten their told on each other’s fingers; and Armin smirks with glassy eyes before lowering his head closer to your center, “Don’t worry, I’ll let you.”

Armin’s eyes flicker to Eren’s only for a moment, a ghost of a nod shared before the two boys before Armin’s tongue is flat against your slit. You hiss, incoherent moans escaping your throat; Armin is merciless, licking, and sucking until it hurts to breathe.

Your eyes flutter shut when Armin pushes the tip of his tongue against your clit, both his and Eren’s fingers slowing in time with his movement, before speeding up just as he sucks at the bud again. Eren bites a kiss into your thigh, hand squeezing at your hips again.

“I said be good,” he reminds you, sucking at your skin again with warning, “Look at him.”

You don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse, that the second you make eye contact with the blonde again, he sucks on your clit; not ceasing his actions until you come with hot, white flashes resonating through your body.

You can hear them laugh at your collapse, Eren gently kissing your shaking thigh as your body goes limp. Eren shimmies his body up slightly, pulling both his and Armin’s fingers from your pussy and guiding them to your lips.

“Taste,” is his simple command, ordering you to open your mouth wide enough to take both of their fingers.

Eren hums through a laugh, before turning his head to Armin. He takes his fingers out of your mouth, brings his hand to the back of his friend’s head, grabbing tufts of blonde hair in his grip, and angling his head for a perfect kiss, “Share.”

You can barely register their mouths moving together, lewd sounds and flashes of tongue in their kissing, before your head falls back against your pillow again. They’ll be the end of you someday, you’re certain of it.

Your reaction makes Armin chuckle—almost innocently, but you know now you’ve been using that word far too liberally with him. He crawls up to lay next you, gently cradling your cheek with one hand to pull your face to his.

“Good right?” he asks gently, a light kiss placed on your bruised lips.

“Hm,” you can just barely nod, eyes flickering to stay open, “Eren was right.”

Eren finds himself at your other side, pressing feather-light kisses into your neck and jaw, “Told you so, baby.”

“Eren would know,” Armin smiles, and those blue eyes are coated with a layer of mischief once again, “He speaks from personal experience, after all.”

iv. the throne — (you’re down for me, and i’m down, too)

“You have to be careful,” you warn him, “It won’t be very sexy if I fall over into the tub.”

Eren hums, with the intonation that tells you he heard you, but he’s not really listening. He peppers kisses along your thigh, hands greedy; grabbing and pinching at your skin. He uses one hand to pry your legs open wider; one knee bent, foot resting against the side of your bathtub, while the other is grounded against the tiles, and Eren on his knees below you.

You don’t know why this is a fantasy of his—and why he wants to do it now, in the bathroom of all places, but you admit you give into him more than you should.

He wraps his forearms under your thighs, reaching so that the palm of his hands pull at your skin; and pull you closer to his face. Nervous, you grip at the sink for extra support.

Eren smirks below you, peppering an apologetic kiss dangerously close to your center. You growl, using your free hand to grab at his hair, crane his neck back to make him look at you.

“Eren, listen to me,” you tell him. He knows your voice has annoyance laced in it, but it’s also heavy with authority, and makes blood rush to his pants.

Raised eyebrows lower slowly, his pupils wide and blown out at your sudden command; before his surprise morphs into lust. “Of course, baby,” he concedes, licking at your clit too quickly, “Tell me what you want. I’ll listen.”

You squint with disbelief. Nothing is ever that straightforward with Eren; even when he’s on his knees about to give, he’s asking something of you, too. Nevertheless, you loosen your hold on his hair in favor of cradling his head more gently.

“Just,” you start, a shaky breath escaping through your words when Eren’s tongue prods at your clit, “Just make sure I don’t fall.”

Eren hums, vibrations resonating throughout your body, a hissed curse slipping past your lips. “Of course,” he repeats, “I wouldn’t want to hurt my baby.”

You nod, breath growing increasing unsteady when Eren circles your clit with his tongue. He gets greedy, alternating between licking, and kissing, and sucking; and relishing in your body growing heavy in his hands.

“Though,” he says, words spoken muffled against your sensitive skin, but those green eyes are bright and bold when they look at you, “If you’re afraid of falling, you could always sit on my face instead.”

v. love on top — (my love’s infinite, nothing I wouldn’t do, won’t do, for you)

You’re pretty like this, too. Pretty all the time—but if there’s one thing Eren likes more than you under him, it’s you on top of him.

“You’re so hot like this,” he says, voice thick with lust, as he reaches out to rest his hands against your hips.

Eren likes the way you bounce on top of him, thighs shaking against his. He’s surprised when you move your hands to take his off of you—quick to question your motives, before you lace your hands with his, a weak, but sweet smile when your fingers are intertwined.

He smiles back, using your connected hands to pull you forward, elbows bent, the back of his hands plush against the sheets, while your palms hold them down. You’re bent over now, tummy pressed against his, and Eren can feel you breathing into the crook of his neck.

He bends his knee to give him some leverage, adding his own thrusts while you desperately bounce back on his cock.

“B—babe… ‘M gonna come,” he moans, and it’s not long before he’s cumming inside of you. He unlaces one of his hands from yours, using it to rest against the small of your back as you shake through your own orgasm, open mouthed kisses pressed into his collar.

You lay like that for a bit, before Eren pulls out. He has to move you off of him to throw away the condom; but is quick to find his way back to the bed, rolling onto the mattress unceremoniously. He lays facing you, and reaches a hand out, palm open and waiting.

You roll your eyes, but lazily meet him halfway as he daps you up; a stupid smile on his face. He shuffles onto his back, and pulls you on top of him, this time using both hands to wrap around your waist.

“That was so hot,” he muses, love-drunk on you and tracing random patterns into your skin, “You should—should do that more often.”

You curl your hands up to circle his head, lazy fingers playing with his hair, as you nuzzle your head into his chest, eyes fluttering shut, as sleep takes over your body, “Maybe.”

(Definitely).

[bl00dgutsgl0ry]

Patch Me Up

Pairing - Vampire!Diluc x Fem!Reader

Warnings - 18+ NSFW, Blood kink obviously, marking kink, biting kink, sharp teeth BARK BARK, fingering, semi public sex??? I mean you guys were in a different room but it was still in a public establishment lol,

Word Count - 1.9k

Other Comments - Bro this idea was just way way way too good to pass up shout out to the anon who requested this because you know what's up; you got some good ass taste. And yes this does have Twilight vibes, what about it.

Ask - VAMPIRE DILUC SMUT I FUCKING BEG YOU

Diluc was a very secluded man, always keeping up thick walls, borderline impossible to penetrate; but there was something about you. You enraptured him, always wearing a bright kind smile when you saw him. Most people found his stand off-ish personality jarring, to which they regarded him with side eyes and cold shoulders unless asking for alcohol.

He looked forward to when you would come into his tavern, it was easy to spark up conversation. You quickly became one of his regulars when you first came into the tavern a few months ago. At first he regarded you with the same cold yet professional tone he regarded most of his customers with; but when you weren’t put off by it and asked how his day had been he was surprised to say the least. After that it was always a high point of his day asking you how your adventures were.

Today was different. You strolled into the tavern at your usual time, but when that door opened a strong delicious scent washed over Diluc. It made his mouth water and his throat burn. When he looked up to see what was going on, to see the cause of his bodily reactions, he saw you limping in; bruises and cuts covering your exhausted body. This was bad. You smelled way too good.

Diluc’s hands became clammy under his gloves, and a sheen of sweat formed on his forehead. He wanted- no, needed, to taste you. To drink you. You smelled almost candy-like, similar to when all of the sweet flowers came to bloom; but better. Diluc’s fists curled into tight balls behind the counter as you approached. He wanted to tell you to leave, to stop walking towards him, but he couldn’t bring himself to.

Were it anyone else and he would’ve quickly been able to shut down the issue by telling them to go see someone who could patch them up first, but this was you. There was something else too, something in the back of his mind. He was worried for you.

“Hey, how’s my favorite bartender doing?” Your voice was raspy, from what exactly Diluc didn’t know, but he wasn’t surprised from seeing your current state. Something in him warmed when you said that though.

“Uh, fine. More importantly, shouldn’t Barbara be patching you up? Why are you in my tavern bleeding on my floors.” Diluc tried to make his voice harsh, but it came out more sarcastic and joking. You chuckled in response to his statement.

“What, you can’t help me?” Diluc stiffened. You wanted him to help you? Why? He has shown no knowledge of medicine, let alone any real concern for you.

“I have no knowledge of medicine, why would you want me to patch you up?” Diluc was more than confused. There were so many other people you knew who were so much more capable of helping you. He was starting to get irritated, not particularly by you, but by your scent. It was driving him crazy and he was surprised he was able to keep his composure as well as he was right now.

“Listen you need to get help before you come in and drink (y/n). Not only are you obviously tired and hurt, you smell.” Shit. Shit you were gonna get suspicious of him and-

“No shit I smell! I’ve been sweating up a storm fighting things, Master Diluc.” Diluc was taken aback by your words, which seemed to be a running theme tonight. You just wouldn’t stop saying the oddest things.

“You’re not going to leave unless I help you, aren’t you?” You smiled victoriously as you shook your head ‘no’. Diluc sighed, as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He just had to get through this, then everything would stop. All the saliva, the burning of his throat, the sweating, the desire for you.

It was only when Diluc retrieved a few bandages from the emergency kit he had prepared and he began bandaging up your various cuts, did he notice just how attractive you were. Diluc had removed his gloves, and your skin was so soft under his surprisingly delicate fingers. He wanted to make sure he didn’t cause any discomfort to you, so he treated you like a thin sheet of glass.

There was a softness to him that he didn’t think existed anymore. He didn’t think he was capable of being so gentle with someone. You somehow brought out the best in him, in just the short time you’ve known each other. He never thought he would be able to get so close to someone again. Fuck he really liked you.

“Diluc, you don’t have to be so gentle with me; clearly I can take a beating.” A chuckle rumbled deep in the man’s chest, his crimson eyes never leaving the injury he was dressing.

“Pardon me for wanting you to be comfortable.” You giggled, and it was the most melodic noise he’d ever heard. He wanted to hear you laugh more.

Despite the soft atmosphere, there was still something primal deep within Diluc. He could feel it grow with the more time he spent taking in your delicious scent. If Diluc could blush, he was sure his face would be deep red by now. He wanted to take you right here and now, in the cellar where he kept all his beverages that weren’t needed behind the counter. He delicately moved some of your hair out of your face so he could get to a small scrape on your left cheek. He saw a blush rise to the high points of your cheeks, which only egged on his desire for you. All he could do was stare deep into your eyes. You were breathtaking.

Within seconds both or your lips collided together in a heated kiss. It was fierce and heartfelt. His hands grabbed at your body for purchase, and vice versa. It had the both of you panting, with each intake of oxygen you sent wafted over him stronger than ever before; you were like an addictive perfume. Without thinking Diluc pulled away, staring at your flushed face.

“Let me taste you, fuck I need to mark you up. Make you mine.” You nodded your head feverishly. Diluc’s mouth attacked your neck within seconds of your response, and suddenly his teeth punctured your skin. You blood landed on his tongue and he was addicted. You were his new favourite drug. You tasted exactly like he’d imagine, sweet and light; something he’d never get enough of.

“D..Diluc what-” Before you could finish your sentence, Diluc’s mouth unlatched from your neck, some of your blood smudged at the corner of his mouth.

“Shit (y/n) I apologize, you just.. Fuck you taste so good. I mean you smell so sweet but you taste even better I couldn’t control myself.”

“Diluc, are you like a vampire or something?” You chuckled a little, voice still a little breathy. By the tone of your voice, Diluc knew you meant that as a joke but when he didn’t respond the look on your face changed. The silence weighed heavy on top of Diluc, borderline suffocating. Diluc couldn’t meet your gaze.

“Keep going.” Your voice was soft, just above a whisper, as you moved your head to expose your neck even more. Diluc’s gaze snapped back up immediately to yours, then down to your neck. Then his gaze drifted further down. He was hard.

He attacked your neck once more, getting taken away but how good you tasted. After a few moments, a small moan escaped your lips, so quiet that Diluc would’ve missed it were he not have been hyper aware of your breathing. Once again Diluc’s mouth left your neck, but this time his hands started to roam down towards your pants. He stopped just before unbuttoning them.

“Is… is this alright (y/n)?” You didn’t even respond verbally, just nodding enthusiastically before gripping onto his shoulders. Without anymore hesitation Diluc unbuttoned your pants and almost ripped them off of you. He quickly pinned up against the wall of the cellar, as he pulled your panties to the side and rubbed your clit. Your breath hitched in your throat, before a low moan escaped your lips.

Fueled on by your noise, Diluc retracted his hand from your clit and shoved two of his fingers into your already sopping cunt.

“Fuck baby, you’re so wet already.” His fingers worked you open, as his dick strained against his uncomfortably tight slacks. He was becoming impatient, but he wanted to make sure you were nice and open so he didn’t hurt you. After a few more minutes of fingering, he could tell you were starting to become impatient as well.

“Diluc please, I need you. I need to feel you deep. Ah fuck Diluc please.” The strain in your voice when you said please shot straight to his dick, and who was he to refuse you? A dark smile graced his usually stoic features, and you shivered with anticipation. Diluc pulled his fingers out of you, before he licked his fingers clean. Everything about you was just so fucking delicious. Soon enough Diluc freed his hard cock from his pants. There was precum beading on the tip.

He picked you up, lifting you over his cock, before slowly lowering you down. Once you were finally sat right at the base of his dick, your back was once again pressed up against the wall, as he started to finally thrust in and out of you. It was slow for only a few moments, before he began a punishing pace. His hand had already gone to cover your mouth, muffling your loud moans. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to last long, you were so tight, but it seemed you were in a similar boat, as your walls constricted around him.

Your moans were growing in volume and pitch as you got closer and closer to the edge, and Diluc’s breathing was becoming labored, letting out low groans and growls. Before either of you knew it, both of you were cumming. Before you could finish, Diluc sunk his teeth into your neck one more time. He rocked both of you through your orgasms, before pulling away and setting you back down on the ground. He made sure to keep an arm around you though, just in case your legs decided to give out.

Slowly but surely both of you began to dress yourselves again; attempting to make yourselves presentable. After a few moments of silence, you spoke.

“So you’re a vampire. Do you have any cool powers?” You had a lopsided smile on your face, as Diluc chuckled and softly nudged your shoulder. You really were something else.