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Fics for homosexual male readers?

you know? I've searched. I've also searched with unisex or ambiguous pronouns but I havent been successful yet. I deeply regret this.

If anyone finds or writes something that fits the description please submit a link to us!

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Secret Weapon - A Tom + Amelia One-Shot

You lean close to the bezel, dripping resin slowly, drop by drop, over the stamp-sized square of old railway map, teasing the bubbles out with the tip of the pipette. Perfect.

Hands grab your waist from behind, startling you.

“Fuck!” you shout, smacking the magnifier out of the way and touching resin to your own hair. “God damn it, Tom! Really?”

He laughs and it is infectious, even through your own irritation. You take a deep breath. “Dearest. What do you need?”

He leaps up onto the table, crossing his leg coquettishly. “Oh, nothing,” he says. He shakes his foot, jiggling the whole table.

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Hey! I'm really desperatly looking for some sort of Brendon Urie x Sarah Urie x reader fic because I need it so bad- I don't want to bother you but I'm at a loss because my usual routes of enquiry aren't coming up with anything. Thanks!

I'm sorry but I don't know of any fics with that pairing. Maybe someone who follows us does? :)

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Title: Playing Doctor

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/You (female!Reader)

Rated: M, because smut

Length: roughly 1,600 words

Author: madsivelyhorny

Warning: Masturbation, sex on desk, obviously illegal progression of the doctor-patient relationship

Summary: You’ve recently been seeing Dr. Lecter as your therapist and the doctor-patient relationship transforms drastically once he suggests a “self-administered treatment”.

Hazel eyes grazed your face for a moment, flickering with something. You hadn’t the faintest idea what it could be, but the silence seemed heavier in the air, almost stifling.

You had just given a synopsis of what had transpired since your last session with Dr. Lecter—he merely nodded between the events described, occasionally scribbling words down on the leather notebook in his lap. While waiting for a response, you glanced around the office—eyes lingered on the bookshelves above; the lush red wall behind Dr. Lecter; the muted plaid fabric of his three-piece suit.

“It’s sounds as though you are under a great deal of stress.”

You let out an exasperated breath, “Well, yeah.” You crossed and then re-crossed your legs, shifting in the grey leather chair.

“I suggest you try masturbating,” his tone nonchalant, his face impassive.

“Um, wha- I mean,” a nervous laugh escaped which you quickly attempted to disguise as a cough. You picked a piece of imaginary lint off of your blue summer dress, avoiding eye contact. “Uh, yeah, I guess I could keep that in mind…”

You adjusted yourself in the chair once more, thinking to yourself that you probably would carry out that recommendation later; it’s not like you hadn’t noticed how attractive Dr. Lecter was. Everything about him radiated sensuality and dominance.

After a moment, you dared to glance up at him—something shifted in his facial features, something demanded rather than implied obedience. His eyes held a predatory glint, his mouth set in a tenuous smirk.

Oh.

He meant here. Now.

You didn’t know what to think. This would be totally unethical, incredibly illegal, and yet you felt an ache between your thighs.

It was suddenly hot, too hot in this office. Your gaze darted to his again, his expression unwavering.

You’ve imagined this scenario before—imagined being touched by those dexterous hands. You’ve heard stories of his legendary dinner parties, his culinary prowess. How he could produce a masterpiece whether it be on fine china or a canvas.

…Fuck, you wanted this.

Fabric pooled in your lap as you lifted yourself higher up in the chair; your sandals abandoned on the wooden floor. The heels of your feet pressed into the soft leather, your thighs spread obscenely. Fingertips slipped beneath the lace lining of your panties, circling that spot already pulsing with need.

Your head tilted back, your body arching as you felt your heartbeat begin to race. You could hear the blood rushing through your head; feel the slight shake in your limbs. Breathless, pathetic whimpers filled the room as you mentally replaced your own hands with Hannibal’s.

Those skilled fingers, applying exquisite pressure with maddening precision—knowing with every shift of your hips and wanton moan what to touch next. Sweat prickled to the surface, covering your skin in a light sheen.

Behind your eyelids, you saw Hannibal’s eyes glint with lust as a gasp escaped your lips. How he’d turn positively primal as he’d insert a digit into your wet cunt; then two. Moving those fingers in and out, thumb swirling over your clit relentlessly. Your body was set ablaze; your mind only concerned with impending release.

You could barely breathe, your choked-off moans increasing with your pulse. “Oh, Hann-“, you bit down hard on your lip, face contorting with pleasure.

Your back arched further as your mouth opened in a voiceless cry—body jolting with warmth as your orgasm took over.

Your eyes were closed as you waited for your respiration to return to a normal rate. Your legs felt shaky as you lowered your feet back to the floor, removing your hand from underneath your panties. He had heard you begin to cry out his name, you were sure of it.

The sensation of faint breath on your skin was what caused you to open your eyes. Hannibal’s were gazing into yours, his hands gripping the armrests, body looming over you. The look in his eyes was ravenous; your session far from over…

  His face remained characteristically stoic; so cool and collected—yet his eyes betrayed a desire akin to a flame. His pupils were dilated, conveying an urge impossible for even him to conceal.

Emboldened, you delicately placed your fingertips on his tie, framing the Windsor knot in the blue silk.

“So…” you paused to clear the unexpected rasp in your voice. You tilted your head upward, hearing the faint rustling of your hair on the grey leather. Speaking again, a brow subtly raised as you met his gaze once more, “…do you have any other suggestions, Dr. Lecter?”

Your body suddenly surged forward in the seat, hands pressing into you—one between your shoulder blades, the other at the lower back. Quickly, instinctually, your arms wrapped around Lecter’s neck; legs shakily bound around his waist as you were lifted from the chair.

Before you could react, your thighs were touching the rosewood of his desk; cool against your heated skin. You immediately found yourself aware of your clothing—how cotton clung to your back; lace sticking between your legs. It was a nuisance; akin to a fly buzzing in your ear.

Dr. Lecter was before you, his hips framed by your lower thighs. With a flurry of fingers and a few seconds, you managed to loosen his tie and open his suit jacket; one of three buttons undone on his waistcoat.

You stopped your fingers as you felt his by your ribcage, feather light caresses making the muscles beneath shudder. He then gripped the cloth and pulled upward, forcing your hands from his waistcoat as your arms were raised above your head.

His mouth lowered to your neck, warm breath ghosting across the surface. A hand cradled one side of your head, holding locks of hair between the digits; as the other was at your back, working at the hooks of your bra. You felt an intake of air below your ear as he inhaled the faint citrus scent of shampoo remaining on your skin. His breathing at your neck made you conscious of your own: fast, labored, hot.

His lips quickly moved along your neck to your collarbone, downward, searing kisses marking the flesh. The lace band was broken, your breasts promptly exposed to his fervent mouth. You moved your palms to the smooth desktop, arching your back with growing pleasure. He circled his tongue around a nipple, blowing cool air to elicit a shiver and moan.

His every touch was electricity and heat, causing tissue to tremble and nerves to burn. It was tantalizing torture, your very core begging for relief with each quickening pulse. A pathetic whimper escaped your lips as you tightened your legs around his hips, grinding against the bulge in his expertly tailored trousers. Both of you groaned with heightening satisfaction; his groan vibrating on your breast—producing another lascivious sound from you.

You repeated the motion once more, the need for friction overwhelming. A plea escaped your mouth like a hurried breath before he pushed a hand against your torso, ushering your back to lie on the wooden surface. You lifted your hips from the desk as adroit fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, swiftly pulling them off to join the rest of your clothing—accumulating in a pile on the ornately decorated rug.

Naked, panting, wanting. Your eyes were overtaken by black, fogging with desire as they fixed onto the figure looming above you—clothed, dominating, wanting. Legs dangling off the edge, your eyes shut with anticipation, listening to the rustling of clothing before—

You gasped as his cock filled you, your cunt enveloping it greedily, already slick with arousal. Quicker. Deeper. The grip on your hips so tight there would surely be bruises marring the skin later.

Dr. Lecter moved your legs upward, resting the heels of your feet on muted plaid fabric at his shoulders. Fingers wrapped at your ankles as he resumed thrusting, yours grasping at the edge of the desk, knuckles white.

Everything was heated and urgent—he, so normally in total control; his breathing now erratic, positively lewd grunts and groans sounding at your ear. A digit slipped between your bodies, rubbing your clit in small circles.

Obscenities and moans filled the air as your body began to tense, so hot, covered with sweat.

Writhing in pleasure, your back arching off the desk.

Thrusting. Pounding. Grinding.

Oh

An orgasm pulsed through you; muscles quivering as blazing heat jolted along limbs. His release soon followed; a final, unsuppressed groan echoing as his eyes clenched shut.

Respiration began to regulate as sounds of satisfied pants pushed from your lungs. Dr. Lecter leaned his torso back slightly, removing his grip from your ankles to usher them down. Legs draping over the edge once more, you used your palms as leverage, arms shakily pushing yourself upright.

It became as it was before; you sitting up at his desk, a thigh on either side of his hips.

“Here,” you paused to liberate a heavy rush of breath, “let me fix that for you.”

You straightened up his tie, maneuvering the blue silk to the perfection it was before. Your fingers then worked at his vest, refastening the single button.

“You know, Dr. Lecter,” you glanced up before moving your hands to his suit jacket, “I rather liked that treatment… I believe it was very effective.”

After a few seconds, his outfit was impeccable once more. He stretched his arms out, straightening the sleeves and the cuffs, before looking at his watch.

“Our hour is just about up,” he finished his sentence addressing you by name; his gaze lifted, smoldering with promise, “I would like to increase your sessions to twice a week.”

“Of course, Dr. Lecter.”

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Forever waiting for more mads/ a hugh/ both (ooh) reader fic

lol. Anon, I recommend you talk to Moani. She's been very occupied with school n' stuff lately. I reckon that's the reason she's stopped writing.

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Because I missed that one week.

Misha/you. Body shots on the floor.  Happy “Cas Is Back” Day!

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Because I'm preoccupied with hands today.

Misha/you: masturbation, begging, blowjob.  In that order.

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Any teen wolf reader inserts? :)

havent came across any yet! 

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Voiceporn teaser (WIP part 1/?)

Benedict/Reader.  Benedict is certain he can bring you to the edge with his voice alone.  You insist he can’t, but are you lying through your teeth?  (This is a teaser/prologue.   More to come in the very near future.)

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Back Seat (drabble)

Chris Pine/Reader.  Fun in the back of a limo.  Inspired in part by this picture

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Oh, Darling (One Shot P[mostly]WP)

Tom Hiddleston/Reader.  You surprise Tom in Toronto.  You haven’t seen each other in ages, but he’s only got a little bit of free time…

[AN:  SUPER SPECIAL THANKS go to TIDKWE and her most recent askbox fun question [and for encouraging me to actually write this thing out].  I’ve taken some liberties with the “15 minutes” part but muses are fickle things, are they not?  Also special thanks to Tom for fiddling with his tie and being generally wonderful.]

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Photo credit (x)

    If someone ever asked you what your favorite part of having Mads grow his beard out you would probably freeze in place, your mind going in overdrive coming up with all the different reasons you loved his facial hair.     First of all, it was soft, and it provided your hands with something to do when you both sat down together to watch TV. You liked it when he laid his head on your lap and you could absently run your fingers over his beard, smoothing it down and feeling the soft hairs run through your fingers. But that wasn’t what the best part was, no. The best part was when you laid back on your bed, your legs open and his head between your legs, eating you out. Mads liked to bury his face against you, trying to lick all of you and seeming like it was never enough.     You would cry out and gasp, your hands tightening on the sheets underneath you as his hands held your legs wide apart. Then, he’d slide lower to lick at the moisture seeping out of you and you would lose it. Your back  would ache off the bed as you screamed his name when his mustache would rub perfectly against your clit. His mustache could never achieve the same softness his beard had, and was always slightly bristlier, so when Mads would move his head just slightly and his mustache would end up directly above your clit, rubbing at it as he ate you out, it would take all of your willpower to hold back your orgasm.         You always tried to make these moments last as much as possible, since he didn’t have the chance to grow out his beard often, but it was something that took a lot out of you, especially when he would pull away and smirk knowingly, and your heart would thud painfully in your chest and your stomach would tighten further as you noticed your juices on his beard and across his mustache. It gave them a small shine, and would always earn a loud whimper from you as you would lean forward and lick at it.     Mads would groan and slide his hands into the hair at the back of your neck and tilt his head so you could lick him clean. Then, once you’d finish, he’d pull you on your back again and without any notice whatsoever, he’d bury his face in your pussy again and just shake is head from side to side so his mustache would rub against your clit. You’d cry out and bury your fingers in his hair to press him closer and he’d groan against you, a moan escaping your lips as his tongue slid out to lick at you once more and two of his fingers would bury deep inside of you, thrusting until you came just mere seconds later, your mouth open in a voiceless cry and your eyes shut tight, spasms running through your body as your inner walls would tighten around his fingers.     He’d take that chance and pull away from you quickly, sliding up and positioning his hard leaking cock against your entrance and sliding in all the way, your arms wrapping around his shoulders and your nails burying in his back as he thrust into you, drawing out your aftershocks and moans. He’d groan into your neck, his damp beard rubbing against you and you’d whimper pathetically as he thrust into you harder and faster, his hands buried in your hair and gasping your name into your ear.     “Fucking Christ, you feel so good after I eat you out- yeah, just- fuck,” he’d draw out as he’d come inside of you with a loud groan, collapsing on top of you and panting. You’d relax and wrap your legs around him, your foot running down the back of his calf as he’d murmur contentedly, nuzzling your ear and kissing it.     “I should consider growing this beard out whenever I can,” he’d laugh, and your stomach would tighten and you would smile, sliding a hand into his hair and pulling his face up to meet yours, pressing your lips against his.      ”Only if you can eat me out like this all of the time,” you’d laugh as you’d feel his soft cock twitch inside of you and he’d bite your lip with a growl.

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photographed by Chiun-Kai Shih [x]

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The show is character-driven and grown-up in terms of what it asks of the audience — that combination seems fairly new to me compared with what else is on television right now. [x]

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Can we also submit fc (favorite character) x reader fics too? Like there's no specific character in the fic so everytime you read it can still be any character, or is it only specific person x reader inserts?

Yes! Feel free to submit any reader/x person fics that you like so we can show it to everyone else too!

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Has anyone submitted any fics yet? Because I'm actually sending in some of my fics tomorrow. Just in case the lack of submissions is just because people are shy of being the first one to do it.

No one has submitted any fics yet anon, we’ll be delighted to have yours!

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[2/?]

So you would both sit there together and smile and laugh about Francis next door, or how the neighborhood council was hosting yet another party and how he was always the one stuck with cake.

"Not that I’d ever complain. But there has to be something else I can do, right?"

"No there...