#Light’s drawing of himself makes me laugh

[littlelamy]

kissing with rafe

The air between you and Rafe practically hums as his eyes roam over you, taking in every detail of the dress that clings to your curves in all the right ways. You’d worn it just for him. His gaze is heavy, lingering with a hunger that makes your cheeks flush.

As soon as you’re close enough, his hands snake around your waist, pulling you down onto his lap in one swift, a very possessive motion. Before you can say a word, his mouth is on yours, and the world fades, the noise around you slipping into a quiet murmur, leaving only the taste and feel of him.

Rafe’s lips move over yours with purpose, rough but soft, taking his time in a way that’s both deliberate and needy. His hand cups the side of your face, his fingers grazing along your cheekbone, while his thumb gently sweeps over your skin. It’s such a simple touch, yet it sends sparks of heat right through you, leaving you breathless and pliant in his hands. His fingers press into you like he’s grounding himself, as though he needs to touch every inch of you just to know you’re there.

“Rafe,” you murmur against his mouth, trying to catch your breath, but he doesn’t let up, his lips moving down to trail along your jaw. “Baby, I wore this dress so you could see it, not wrinkle it,” you try to tease, even though your voice comes out unsteady, betraying just how quickly he’s making you lose control.

He smirks against your skin, the sound of it low and rough, as if he’s amused by the very idea of letting you slip from his grasp. “I know, princess,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin beneath your ear. “And I see it. But you look too damn good tonight, and I need a little more time with you before you go off with your friends,” His fingers sink into your hips, pulling you closer, until you’re entirely pressed up against him.

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you try to pull back, but he’s already drawing you back in. His lips find yours again, urgent yet tender, nibbling at your bottom lip in a way that makes your heart race and your head spin. There’s a controlled intensity to his kiss, like he’s savoring each second, memorizing every taste and feeling, his mouth exploring yours as if he’s mapping every inch of your soul.

One of his hands slides up, tangling in your hair as he tilts your head back slightly, deepening the kiss. His other hand, however, moves lower, grazing the edges of your dress before slipping under the fabric, his fingers ghosting over your panties. The touch is light, teasing, just enough to make your breath hitch. It sends a shock of desire coursing through you, and you can feel your body responding to him, a tingle of anticipation running down your spine. His fingertips trace the delicate fabric, just enough to feel the heat of your skin beneath, making your pulse quicken.

You shiver as he kisses a path back up to your lips, his hand sliding lower again, his fingers now firmly gripping your hip, urging you closer. The pressure of his hand against your body leaves you aching for more, and you press into him, desperate to feel all of him.

“Princess,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to press his forehead against yours. His voice is low, gravelly with want, but there’s a soft, possessive edge to it. “I can’t get enough of you. You feel so damn good.”

Your fingers slip into his hair, tugging him back into a kiss, deeper this time, as if you’re trying to lose yourself in him entirely. His hands move again, sliding along your body with intent, one hand still teasing the edges of your panties, sending little jolts of heat straight through you. When he pulls away again, his lips hovering above yours, you can’t help but feel that delicious ache, knowing he’s holding back, waiting for the right moment to claim you entirely.

“You drive me crazy, princess,” he mutters, his breath warm against your lips, his hand still tracing the edges of your panties, a subtle but undeniable promise in every movement. “I just need a little more time with you, just a few more minutes before the world can have you.”

The kiss he gives you next is slow and almost agonizingly deep, his mouth taking its time as his hand finally slips beneath your panties, touching you in ways that leave you breathless. His touch is gentle at first, exploring, like he wants to savor every sensation, but you can feel the heat between you growing, his possessiveness radiating through every kiss, every touch.

It’s just you and him now, tangled in a haze of kisses and breathless moans, completely lost to each other. Every movement of his hands, every press of his lips, makes you feel like you’re the only thing that matters in this moment. And you know that, no matter what happens next, he’ll never stop touching you like this, never stop claiming you in the ways that only he can.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln

[iamgonnagetyouback]

ivyyyyyyyy i think a frostbite with barty and "tell me three reasons why I should put up with you." "well, for starters, I'm cute." would be super adorable in your style <333 congrats again mwah

Carinaaaaa, thank you so much, love!! <333 You get me and my dramatic muse (˶ˆᗜˆ˵) I swear he’s my spirit animal in his over-the-top glory! I’m so glad you think he and my style fit well together, that means the world (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) And thank you for the congrats, mwah!

ivy's 1k celebration ❄️ navigation ❄️ prompt list

ˋ°•*⁀➷ BARTY CROUCH JR #44: "Tell me three reasons why I should put up with you." "Well, for starters, I'm cute."

You sigh, looking over at Barty with an eyebrow raised, fighting the urge to roll your eyes as he leans lazily against the wall, his hands stuffed in his pockets. You’re not sure what he’s done this time to drive you up the wall, but he’s certainly acting like he hasn’t just spent the last twenty minutes making it his life’s mission to be a menace.

“Tell me three reasons why I should even put up with you,” you say, arms crossed and giving him an unimpressed look.

Barty’s eyes spark mischievously, clearly ready to meet your challenge with enthusiasm. He straightens up, putting on a look of mock-seriousness as he dramatically flips an imaginary lock of hair over his shoulder, like he's about to deliver a line from a play.

“Welllllll,” he begins, drawing out the word as if he’s really contemplating it, “for starters, I’m cute.” He flashes you a grin that’s as smug as it is endearing, the corners of his mouth curving up like he’s already won.

You can’t help it—you scoff, rolling your eyes at him as you cross your arms tighter. “Yeah, sure, you’re cute.”

To your surprise, Barty’s face lights up in a way that’s so genuine it makes you falter for just a second. His eyes glint with excitement, and he practically beams at you, looking like a kid who’s just been handed a massive candy bar. “Oh! So you do think I’m cute!” he practically shouts, clearly reveling in the supposed compliment.

You can’t believe how easily he’s fallen for that, and a smirk tugs at your lips. You’re not going to let him have his little victory so easily. “If by ‘cute,’ you mean overly obnoxious, a bane to my existence, an insufferable little gremlin with no respect for personal space, then yes. You’re adorable,” you say, layering each word with as much sarcasm as you can muster.

Barty gasps, clutching his chest dramatically like he’s just been mortally wounded. “How could you?!” His voice cracks as he stumbles backward, casting you a wounded look as if you’ve stabbed him with betrayal itself. He clutches an invisible wound on his chest, stumbling back to collapse onto the couch like a tragic hero in the final act of his life. “Obnoxious? A gremlin? A bane to your existence?! How could you say such hurtful things? I thought we had something special!”

By now, you’re laughing despite yourself, trying to cover your mouth as a few giggles slip out. Barty peeks from under his hand, clearly pleased to have gotten a reaction out of you, his face breaking into a victorious grin as he sees your shoulders shaking with laughter.

“See?” he says, dropping the act entirely and flashing you that ever-smug grin. “That’s reason two: I make you laugh, and you know you love it.” He wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis, looking at you with such exaggerated confidence that it’s impossible not to laugh harder.

“Oh, Merlin,” you mutter, trying to compose yourself even as he gazes at you with the utmost satisfaction. “I don’t know if I ‘love’ it, but you sure do keep things interesting.”

Barty pretends to be offended, once again clutching his chest like he’s barely holding himself together. “Only ‘interesting’? Treasure, please, don’t shortchange me,” he says, rolling his eyes in mock despair. “I’m magnificent. I’m a vision. A one-of-a-kind gem in your otherwise humdrum life. Who else brings the kind of sparkle, the absolute pizzazz, that I do?”

You try to keep a straight face as you reply, “Pizzazz? The only ‘pizzazz’ you bring is when you manage to knock over three things in a row and try to play it off like it was intentional.”

He gasps again, this time managing to look somehow even more insulted. “You think I’m clumsy?” he asks, eyes wide with faux horror. “No, no, my love, that’s just me leaving a mark on the world, showing my… my undeniably charming presence.”

“Oh, is that what you’re calling it now?” you reply, trying to fight back a grin. “And here I thought it was just you being a klutz.”

Barty sniffs, lifting his chin with a dignified air. “Well, I don’t expect you to understand the intricacies of my charm, Treasure. It’s a rare gift, one that mere mortals such as yourself might struggle to comprehend.”

“Rare gift?” you echo, chuckling as he leans into his own grandeur. “If anything, it’s a rare torture.”

He laughs, clearly enjoying every second of your banter. “Oh, admit it,” he says, leaning forward, “you’d be absolutely miserable without me. Who else would provide you with endless entertainment, constant compliments, and the kind of delightful companionship that I do?”

You raise an eyebrow at him, trying to look as unimpressed as possible. “Endless entertainment, maybe. As for companionship… I think I could find quieter, less ego-inflated options.”

He gasps yet again, stumbling back into the couch as if he’s been struck. “Quieter? Quieter? How could you even suggest such a thing? The silence would be deafening, and you’d be haunted by the memory of my delightful voice, echoing in the void.”

“Haunted by your voice? That sounds more like a nightmare than a fond memory,” you say with a grin, unable to keep up the unimpressed act much longer.

Barty pauses, noticing the way you’re smiling at him, and his expression softens for a moment, a genuine glimmer of happiness slipping through his playful mask. “Alright, reason three,” he says, his voice lower and a little gentler. “I make you smile, and I know that’s worth something.”

You try to stifle your reaction, but the warmth in his voice catches you off guard, and you find yourself unable to hide your smile.

“You think that counts as a real reason?” you ask, half-jokingly, even though you’re fully aware that it’s a perfectly good reason.

“Of course it does,” he says, leaning in closer with a look of triumph. “So, tell me, have I convinced you?”

You give him a long look, trying to keep your face serious but failing as a smirk creeps in. “Fine. Maybe you’re not entirely unbearable,” you admit.

He grins, looking as overjoyed as if you’d just handed him the world. “I’ll take it!” he says with a flourish, sweeping you into a dramatic bow. “It is a privilege and a pleasure to be tolerated by you.”

Laughing, you give him a playful shove. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, it’s far too late for that, Treasure.” He winks, flashing you that smug grin again, and you know, despite the constant teasing, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

the nickname 'Treasure' is taken from the lovely @ellecdc; aka the best barty writer everrr •ᴗ•

[bullet-prooflove]

You're The Sun To Me: Mitch Keller x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @dolphs-darling @watermeezer @queenslandlover-93 @redpool

Companion piece to:

Love Song - Mitch doesn't expect to see you in his bar after all this time.

Clean - Mitch asks you why you're back in town.

Home - Mitch gets an answer to his question.

Sunshine (NSFW) - You've always been the sunshine in Mitch's life.

Georgia Peach (NSFW) - You get a little territorial when one of Mitch's exes comes sniffing around.

Rhinestones (NSFW) - Mitch reminds you of the night you met.

Her Name Was Lola - You meet Mitch's wife.

On the rare freezing days in Tulsa, Mitch struggles. The cold seems to set into his bones and the agony from decades of bull riding seems to flood his entire system. His muscles stiffen and he moves like an old man, every single motion filled with a devastation that makes him hiss through his teeth. It’s times like this that remind him how he ended up hooked on Oxy. Shit like Tylenol doesn’t touch the pain, no matter how much he takes.

He forces himself through the day, every minute ticking by like an hour until you show up fresh off the tour you’ve been undertaking in Oklahoma City. Jelly Roll has been playing a few indie gigs and had invited you to open for him. The two of you had met during a country music showcase back when Mitch was doing time and stayed close friends even after Jason's career blew up.

When you step through the door you take one look at Mitch and you know exactly what’s going on with him, despite how much he tries to hide it. You set up a stool behind the bar, coercing him into it with a fierce look. He knows better than to argue with you when you get a bee in your bonnet, especially when you’re coming off a forty one hour drive.  

You spend most of the evening doing the lion’s share of the work. You let Mitch pour a couple of shots when you leave the bottle by him but everything else is on you. At the end of the night, he watches you lock up before you draw him into the makeshift bed you’ve set up in the back. The ride home is filled potholes and sharp turns, things that will shake up at his bones, cause him even more pain and you know he doesn’t have it in him to face that tonight.

He can’t help but smile when he gets into that room because his baby, she’s done wonders with the air mattress, blankets and hurricane lamps he keeps stored away in there.

“You know Sunny, this shit is kinda romantic like.” He says as you begin to unbutton his shirt. “It’s not candle light and roses but it’s certainly something.”

“Next time.” You promise him, your gaze meeting his as you unfasten his belt and help him out of his jeans. “I promise I’ll romance the fuck out of you.”

He laughs as you help him down into the bed, tucking as many blankets as you can around him against the cold outside. He reaches for you, brushing a stray strand of hair back behind your ear as he looks into your eyes.

“You always take such good care of me.” He whispers, pressing a tender kiss to your mouth.

“I always will.” You murmur before you pull away and begin to undress. He watches appreciatively as you do, the fabric slipping from your skin and landing in a heap at your feet. There isn’t a chance in hell he can get it up right now, not with his pain level but he can still admire the beauty that God bestowed upon him.

“Gonna have to be cuddling tonight darlin.” He tells you as you climb underneath the blankets alongside him. “I don’t have it in me to give you a proper welcome home.”

“Good.” You whisper as you nestle in close, the heat of your body warming his skin. “Because I’m far too exhausted to ride you tonight.”

He chuckles as you bury your face into the curve of his throat, your fingertips tracing over the scars etched into his flesh from all those years of bull riding.

“Sunny…” He drawls as he closes his eyes, trying to focus on anything but the ache that seems to radiate through his entire body. “Will you sing me to sleep darlin? I’ve been missing the sound of your voice.”

You start to hum and he recognises the opening bars from Zach Bryan’s You’re The Sun To Me.

“You’re trying to make me fall in love with you all over again ain’t you sweetheart?” He mumbles as his cheek comes to rest upon the top of your head.

“Oh Mitch.” You whisper, tiling your head up so your lips brush over his grizzled jaw. “There ain’t no trying about it.”

Love Mitch? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[endwersed]

Sneak peek? 🫣 please?

Of course, anon! Here's a li'l sneak peek for the upcoming chapter 10 of the poets are right 😊

-

“Dinner was nice,” Stiles says, his voice soft, carefully casual. “I didn’t know you could cook like that.”

The water that Stiles is elbow deep into is warm, soapy suds sticking around his wrists as he scrubs rigorously at the dish in his hands. He has his sweater sleeves rolled up towards his elbows, fabric bunching tight around him, and it leaves his skin bare, leaves it free to brush up against Derek’s forearm. The brief touch feels even warmer than the water, somehow.

Peering at Derek from the corner of his eye, Stiles finds that Derek is staring steadfastly down. His fingers are curled firmly around a dishtowel, the material rumpled in his grip, rubbing meticulous, drying circles into the clean dish Stiles handed him just moments ago.

“I couldn’t always,” Derek says, still not even glancing sideways. “I, uh… I learned.”

Stiles hums. Honestly, it is as though the festive spirit has seeped all the way down to the core of him at this point in the day, because he feels too damn full of good food and good company and good wine to be anything but mellow, anything but pleasant. Even in the company of Derek, just the two of them left in this kitchen to clean up, he finds himself in a good mood. A real good mood, actually.

A good enough mood to crack jokes, even.

“Got bored of too many private chefs, huh?” he teases.

Derek huffs a laugh. Finally, his stare flicks over, snagging onto Stiles’ keen eye instantly. The smile stays curved at the corner of his mouth as they hold each other’s gazes, just looking at one another as their hands move in rhythmic, repetitive, well-practiced motions.

“Just got bored – period, actually.” A slight flush of red sweeps across Derek’s cheeks, just about visible in the low, evening light of the room. “I… I’m alone a lot. Only so many books you can get through in a row before you decide to pick up another hobby, I guess.”

Stiles pauses. The water circling his wrists ripples outwards as he blinks across at Derek.

“Oh,” he breathes. “I… yeah. I guess that makes sense.”

Of course he is alone a lot. His marriage lasted a single year. His mother snatched her selfish love away from him the moment he wriggled even an inch out from beneath her thumb. His sisters love for him is real, sure, but they have their own lives, their own loves, their own families.

Derek has nothing. An apartment, maybe. High up in the sky, empty and cold, way up above the rest of the world.

It feels like there is a too tight fist, squeezing around his heart. He forces himself to look away.

“Well, if you ever get bored of the haute cuisine,” he carries on, smile feeling thinner than before. “Maybe you can borrow that book Laura got me.”

It’s not exactly top of his damn reading list, that's for damn sure. A romance novel about young star-crossed lovers, a human and a werewolf, trying to defeat the odds with the overwhelming strength of their all-encompassing. Christ. She isn’t even trying to be subtle.

A strangled sort of noise chokes at the back of Derek’s throat. He covers it quickly with a sharp cough, tucked into the tight fist he draws up towards his mouth. His eyes dart back and forth between Stiles’ frown and the beyond dried dish in his hands more than once.

“I’ve, uh,” he starts, little more than a low sort of mumble, “read it, actually.”

Stiles lifts an eyebrow, head tilting to one side as he gazes at Derek thoughtfully.

“Oh, yeah?” he presses. “It any good?”

“You’ve probably read better,” Derek half-answers.

Stiles huffs a soft laugh, waiting a second as Derek carefully sets his item aside. He anticipates Derek’s open, waiting palm before it even presents itself, already there to pass over the next dish ready for drying.

“Glowing praise,” Stiles deadpans.

“Didn’t want to set your expectations too high,” Derek says drily. “Not that you’ll ever read it.”

“Good point,” Stiles scoffs ruefully, before letting the smile really pull at his mouth, letting it spread across his face as he turns to face Derek head on. “Was that your plan with the cooking, too? Throw me off the scent of how good you are with that lousy grilled cheese you once made for me?”

Derek arches an eyebrow, a hint of amusement touching his lips.

“I thought you liked that grilled cheese,” he says.

And Stiles is an idiot in a too good mood. He wholeheartedly blames the good food, the good company, and the good wine for the next, traitorous words that escape his mouth. Especially all of that good wine, actually.

“I liked the shirtless alpha making it for me a lot more.”

[willsimpforanyone]

can I request Leo Valdez smut?

he starts getting handsy at a party with a hyperfem reader in a short skirt and they go at it in a bathroom.

-🐿️

i can definitely do that for u, this one got away from me and i think u can tell i mostly read smut lmao

have u declared urself squirrel anon? or is that just what u use lmao

content: no mention of protection (be smart y'all), coming inside, mirror sex ig?, orgasm denial (just once, fem recieving), exhibitionism if u squint, she/her pronouns for reader

---------------------

For the tenth time, I push Leo's hand out from under the hem of my skirt. I lace my fingers with his, keeping his hand still under the guise of being affectionate as I continue the conversation I'm in the middle of.

Of course, with one avenue shut down, my ever-creative boyfriend finds a new tactic; his other hand.

His fingers sneak around my waist, fingertips just tracing over the hem of my crop top, nails catching lightly at the pale pink fabric. I don't even need to look at him to know he's barely suppressing a smirk.

"Keep your hands under control," I whisper to him once the conversation has moved away from me. "I don't want to spend the night adjusting my clothes from your groping."

Leo stifles a laugh, head turning to nose at my cheek. "Then don't adjust them, let me see more of you." His hand on my waist slips upward, fingertips barely brushing the side of my chest.

"I'm gonna kill you," I hiss, but a smile keeps pulling traitorously at my lips. His hand in mine squeezes at my fingers, inching our joined hands over my thigh.

His voice is soft and a little raspy, hot against my ear. "Fine, but can I fuck you first?"

I sputter a shocked laugh, whipping my head around to see the tempting glint in his eyes, paired with the teasing smirk on his lips. Raising an eyebrow in disblief, I dart my eyes over the rest of the room full of people.

"...are you being serious?"

It's as if something lights up in him, sitting up straighter and tightening his hold on me just a little. "I wasn't, but I am now!" He grins, teeth biting at his lower lip. "Can I? Holy shit, can I actually fuck you right now?"

That's too many things said way too loud for my dignity, and I smack a hand over his mouth to stem the flow of excitement. "If you shut the fuck up, maybe."

Leo nods earnestly behind my hand, eyes wide with anticipation. He pulls my hand away to give it a kiss on my knuckles. "I'll never talk again."

"...sounds highly unlikely," I laugh, standing up and smoothing down my skirt.

The speed at which Leo navigates through the party to an empty bathroom is suspicious, almost as if he'd planned it, or was maybe so needy he'd kept an eye on which rooms were empty. The minute the door shuts and locks with a click, his hands are on me, lips pressed hotly against mine. My back gets pushed against the door and I gasp, Leo taking advantage of my surprise to deepen the kiss and lick into my mouth.

He tastes of whatever dumb cocktail he'd made us earlier, declaring himself a professional mixologist because he was good at measurements. My eyes flutter closed, hands running up his chest and into his hair, drawing a soft moan from him.

"So pretty," he breathes, words pressed between kisses, his hands tugging and fisting my clothes like he can't quite decided what to do with them. "Can't believe I let you go to this party without ruining you first."

"Let me?" I tease, pretending to be offended and half-heartedly pushing him away with a hand on his chest. Leo whines at the disconnection of our lips.

"You know what I mean," he murmurs, pressing me harder against the door and working his hands under my crop top. "Wear whatever the fuck you want, but it's gonna make me go insane."

I laugh, cutting myself off with a soft, short moan as he gets two handfuls of my chest, squeezing and groping as he pants against my lips. With a swift movement, he shoves my top up under my arms, revealing the dark pink bra, the tiny gemstone in the centre glinting in the bathroom light.

"Fucking hell, baby-" He almost whimpers, eyes fixed on the swell of my tits under the pretty garment. "You want me dead, is that it?"

Just to really drive it home, I lean in so my lips are pressed against his ear. "You like it? I was worried you'd be able to see it through my clothes, but I guess not, luckily my skirt is just long enough to hide the matching underwear."

I briefly worry for his knees as Leo falls to the floor, and I giggle as he drags my skirt unceremoniously down my legs. As promised, the matching dark pink panties are on display, gemstone on the front and all.

One of Leo's hands goes to my thigh, and his other hand guides one of mine to his shoulder. "Hold on, pretty girl."

Before I can get another word out, his mouth is on me, tongue licking a broad stroke over my underwear. My hand fists the shoulder of his shirt, a loud gasp pulled from my lips as he buries his head between my thighs. His free hand yanks the thin, damp fabric out the way, holding it as he laps at my pussy with an almost feverish intensity.

My stomach swoops deliciously as he circles my clit with the tip of his tongue, head falling forward and hips bucking against his mouth. His brown eyes meet mine as he looks up from below me, and I can see the delight and desire in his eyes as he sees me cover my mouth when he slips a finger inside me.

His tongue circles and strokes at my bundle of nerves, long finger pushing in and out of my hole and curling at the perfect spot to get my legs trembling. The familiar knot in my gut tightens further and further, my walls spasming around Leo's fingers as he slips another one inside me.

"B-Baby, 'm gonna come-" I pant behind my hand, gazing down at him desperately. "Gonna m-make me come, fuck-"

He pulls his fingers out, tongue slipping back in his mouth with a dirty grin. "No, not yet."

"What?" My jaw drops, frustration taking the place of the pleasurable tension in my stomach. "Come on, I was so close!"

"I know." Leo shrugs, before standing up and grabbing my waist to bend me over the bathroom counter. His hand tangles in my hair, the other yanking my panties down my thighs to my knees as he stands behind me. "You're gonna come on my cock."

I moan at his voice, the words so matter-of-fact, like there were no other options; either I was gonna come on his dick, or not at all. Skirt discarded on the floor and underwear out the way, Leo undoes his pants with one hand, shoving them down along with his underwear. The way he sighs in relief as he wraps a hand around himself makes a shiver run up my spine, biting my lip as I watch his reflection throw its head back.

"You're so fucking pretty, you know that?" he murmurs, looking down and nudging his tip between my legs, moaning lowly at the way my arousal coats the head of his dick. "How do I even function when you're so gorgeous in your cute little tops and tiny fuckin' skirts?"

I don't know if I'm supposed to reply, but I can't when he presses into me, both of us moaning in unison. He doesn't look away as my pussy swallows his cock inch by inch, his hands gripping tight to my hips.

"I lasted two hours," he pants, groaning low in his throat as his hips meet mine, sinking as deep as he can into my cunt. "Two hours needing to be in this pretty little pussy, I think that's pretty good considering my distinct lack of impulse control."

My eyes roll back as he suddenly snaps his hips, a sharp moan falling from my lips. "T-Two hours? We've only been here- shit!- an hour and a half?"

"Yeah, well," Leo laughs breathlessly, beginning to build up a rhythm, letting go of my hips to brace himself against the bathroom counter as he fucks me into it. "Wanted you before we even left the house, the second I saw you looking like this-" He punctuates his sentence with a particularly harsh thrust, a yelp catching in my throat as I scramble for purchase against the surface of the counter. "-and now I can't decide whether to take you home or f-fill you up with my come and make you go back to the party."

A rush of heat pulses through me and I clench around him involuntarily, gasping unsteadily, dizzy at the image he conjured up in my mind. I feel him laughing lowly against my back, his nose burying into the crook of my neck.

"Dirty fuckin' girl, you got tighter," he teases, hips getting faster, snapping his cock into me over and over, a hand reaching down to find my clit. "Is that what you want? Want me to pull your cute pink panties up and hold my load inside you, trying not to ruin your skirt?"

His middle finger gathers the wetness from my folds and smears it over my clit, making smooth circling motions that send electricity through my body. "F-Fuck, yes, don't stop," I whimper, catching his eye in the mirror and moaning brokenly at his dark, mischievious smirk. "I'm gonna c-come, want you to come inside me, L-Leo, please, baby, wanna h-have your come!"

Leo swears several times in Spanish, hot and fast against my ear as his hips stutter against mine. "That's it, pretty girl, come around my dick, wanna feel it, come for me and I'll fill you up, okay?"

I nod frantically, and it only takes a few more seconds of his finger playing with my clit before I feel that knot in my gut break, pulled too tight as I spasm between him and the bathroom counter. My whole body trembles, and Leo sinks his teeth lightly into my shoulder. "Feels so good, h-holy shit, did so good for me, there we go..."

He lets out a gutteral groan against my skin, his hips stuttering to a stop as he pulses inside me, thick come painting my insides. His arms wrap around me, nosing against my neck as he rocks his hips a little, panting hard.

After a few moments, the aftershocks settling, Leo eases himself out of me, shushing my soft whines with kisses pressed to my shoulder and neck. His fingers move to my hole, gently pushing against it to stop his come from spilling out too much as his free hand carefully pulls my panties back up my legs.

"My beautiful girl," he murmurs, voice thick with affection as he adjusts the fabric to make sure it's comfortable, kneeling for a moment to press a gentle kiss to my pussy over the panties. He helps me off the counter, arms around me as he litters kisses over my cheeks and nose until I giggle. "There it is, that's my favourite sound."

"Cheesy," I whisper, tone stupidly loving as I grin up at him, arms slinging around his neck. "Are we really gonna go back out there and pretend nothing happened while I ruin my underwear?"

A pause, and he shrugs. "I'll buy you more."

--------------------------

i hope u enjoyed, this kind of got away from me but i'm not mad about it

[comflexxed]

june's eyebrows raised as hans nudged the milkshake his way, the two straws sticking out invitingly. he felt his face grow warm once again, though he let out a soft laugh, finding humor in the unexpected moment. he hadn’t realized how much these little gestures could make him feel so at ease — hans's gentle way of turning this situation into something lighthearted, something they could just laugh about instead of overthinking.

“alright, alright,” he finally said, leaning in to take a sip, careful not to brush against the other straw. the shake was rich and creamy, just sweet enough without it fend overpowering, and he made an appreciative noise. “okay, i’ll admit… this is pretty perfect. you’ve been holding out on me,” he teased slightly, lifting his gaze to catch hans’s eyes.

they settled into a comfortable rhythm again, and june softened as he watched sunny savor her own treat. moments like these were simple, yet they felt monumental.

after a few moments, he glanced at hans with a spark of curiosity. “so… i guess this place must hold a lot of memories for you,” he ventured, nimble fingers playing with the straw. “i can see why you’d bring sunny here. it’s really got that… family feel.” his words were careful, gentle, hoping to draw hans back into those memories without pushing him too far.

and yet, even as he said it, june realized how much he wanted to know more about this part of hans, about the life he’d created. he found himself almost mesmerized by the layers of kindness and resilience in him, the way he’d managed to make a life filled with both care and lightness.

the moment stretched between them, rich with the shared presence of sunny’s laughter and the clink of the glasses and dishes around them. and somewhere in that space, june felt himself relax, the last of the awkwardness melting away. "thanks for tonight," he said softly. "for bringing me here. and letting me in on a little of this world you two have.”

hans gave june an encouraging smile, hoping it would be enough to drive away the awkwardness that lingered around the table. sunny was a good enough distraction too, counting her nuggets as she asked how they were made. see? even sunny is just asking, hans thought to himself, finding a little humor in the situation. 

his eyes also checked on june more frequently, making sure the time they had spent together would not be stained by this situation. he had a fond smile when june said he saw a lot of him in sunny—it’s a pretty big compliment to say to a parent. “she has no choice, she spends a lot of her time with me,” he said with a small laugh. 

as much as he loved knowing sunny took after him, he wanted her to have good influences around her too, and that’s how he saw june. he seems to balance out something that hans felt he was unable to do on his own. “i’m glad she’s growing up well-behaved, actually. she used to have quite the temper.” even as he said it, there was amusement and love in each word. 

his eyes shifted, thinking back to how difficult it had been for him when they lost her mother. she was barely a year old, and hans was told that even if she was that young, the loss would impact her in ways he might not notice right away. he made sure to keep it in mind with every tantrum, with every night it was hard to put her down to sleep. now that she’s a little older and has more awareness of her surroundings, hans wondered if she still remembered. a tug at his sleeve brought him back to the present, sunny asking if there would be milkshake tonight. 

and as if on cue, there was the elderly lady again, a small glass of milkshake for sunny that hans knew she made a certain way to be healthier for the child, and another adult-sized glass for hans—with two straws in it. 

hans could feel the awkwardness rising up inside him again, and before june could comment, he pushed the glass to him with a reassuring smile. “you have to try this. if you’ve never wanted to drink a milkshake through two straws, you’re missing out.” 

[god-of-this-new-blog]

Death note characters draw themselves — inspired by @ponury-grajek and the extra bit in the manga about Misa drawing!

[ratwithhands]

Read Right to Left (Manga Format)

I have returned to watching demon slayer after a year and it came up while I was having a serious late night talk with my big sister. I was talking about the relationship between Michikatsu/Kokushibo and Yoriichi and it turns out we both see each other in Yoriichi's shoes and ourselves in Michikatsu's place. Definitely surprising, but really relieving to know that we both worry too much and we are not so far apart in skill as we believe.

This is technically the first piece of fanart I've ever made for the characters in Demon Slayer, I have made OCs before but I never drew an actual character from the story. For context this is mostly just a fun "what if" scenario with them meeting in the afterlife. I like to think Yoriichi's love would reawaken Michikatsu's humanity.

[versias]

The Joker is Dead (and always has been)

Danny is attending Gotham U and gets caught up in a Joker escapade and realizes the clown is, in fact, a ghost.

Suddenly everything makes an insane amount of sense: the fact that no one has killed a psycho with seemingly human-normal abilities yet, that Arkham can’t keep him for more than a week, the obsessive behavior, the appearance.

Honestly, Danny should have clocked this before he even met the spook.

And Danny doesn’t want to step on any toes, really. The Bat and the Joker have A Thing going on. But, the Batman just isn’t equipped to really put a ghost away. No wonder there’s a breakout from Arkham every couple of months. How many other Gotham rogues are obsessive ghosts haunting the city?

Joker doesn’t display any of the usual ghost powers he associates with his own “rogues”—who’ve really become more like unwanted relatives over the years what with their dropping in uninvited, making a mess, and then ditching before they had to help clean.

It strikes Danny, as he’s being tied up by the clown-costumed goons, that maybe the Joker doesn’t know.

Huh.

How does he broach the topic in a sensitive way?

“Hey, uh. Not to be rude but… You know you’re dead, right?”

Danny winces. Not like that, probably.

The Clown Prince of Crime stops in front of him, the crazed light in his eyes dimmed slightly by confusion. He glances back and forth between Danny and the students around him who are shying away from their insane classmate. (Which is. Fair.)

A menacing giggle warbles from the specter’s throat. He leans into Danny’s bubble, that eerie grin stretching somehow wider.

“Ohhhh really?” The clown draws it out and Danny can hear the crackle of static in the high notes. Honestly. How did no one figure this out before? “And are you gonna kill me, hmm? Have I got a widdle hero in my bait tank?”

“No, no, I mean, it’s not… you’re not… like? You’re not alive,” Danny rambles, trying to clarify and failing utterly. “You’re already dead.”

The Joker tilts his head, eyes dilating and glowing toxic green. He considers what Danny said, then throws his head back and cackles like a hyena.

The ghost doubles over, even, laughing so hard it sounds like he’s gonna bust something. He puts a white-gloved hand on Danny’s shoulder for support and squeezes, just shy of hurting.

After an uncomfortably long moment, the ghost wipes imaginary tears out of his eyes and pats Danny on the back so hard he stumbles and falls to his knee.

“You’re a riot, kid! If I didn’t have a date already planned…”

He trails off and ambles away, still chuckling and muttering to himself. “And they say I’m crazy! Wait til Bats hears about this!”

Danny watches him go, despondent.

It’s always harder when they don’t know.

This is gonna be a mess.

[ervotica]

hot rod — a.donaldson & p.zweig

pairings; art donaldson x fem!reader, patrick zweig x fem!reader, art donaldson x patrick zweig

summary; patrick comes to visit you and art at college. he finds college life is a lot more adventurous than once anticipated

warnings; mdni, 18+ only, SMUT, threesome, overstim, oral (m receiving), sub leaning!reader and art, more dom leaning!patrick, established throuple, polyamory

a/n; i’m not so sure how i feel about this tbh. i love the dynamic though so i pushed through even when it got away from me a little🥲 there will be another drabble for older!art and his pretty girl soon!!

you and art fuck until you’re brain dead and passed out from exhaustion. always have. neither of you possess an off switch, and when patrick’s not there to rein the pair of you in, things get a little… messy.

his cum is dried in your hair, the sticky substance smeared across your cheek, his knuckles still wet with slick.

patrick walks in, full belly laughs and peels you from art’s sweat soaked form, gives your cheek a pinch when you stir and whine.

he doesn’t clean you up because he likes to leave you naked whenever he has the opportunity — which is more often than not. seriously, you two need close supervision.

he just carries you with him to that shitty little armchair in art’s dorm, the room still stinking of sex and the humid summer air clinging to your skin; art shines with perspiration where he’s face down on the bed.

pat makes do with the lack of room, hooking a bare leg over the backs of your thighs until you’re squeezed snugly against his torso, face smushed to his chest. you’re snoring, and it makes patrick smile, slumping down in his chair to rest his lips against your cheekbone.

you wake slowly, eyes sticky and crusted over with exhaustion. your face is almost nestled beneath patrick’s armpit where you’ve been writhing in slumber and you grumble at the scent of sweat, layered with cheap aftershave. his hard-on presses to the center of your stomach and you can feel everything— the curve it makes now it’s hard and weeping, the feel of the spongy head, the vein that runs through the middle.

“you smell, pat,” you grumble, reaching up blindly to snatch the cigarette from between his teeth and take a long pull from the stick.

“yeah, well you’re not so hot yourself, babe. the whole room reeks.” he reaches down to tug on a loose strand of hair at the crown of your head. “there’s cum in your hair.”

“not my fault.” you stretch upward like a cat, curling into patrick’s chest. “where’s art gone?”

“still sleeping, baby.” he lights another cigarette, sacrificing the first one to you - still resting between your lips - and the clicking of the lighter draws your head upward to gaze through heavy lashes at him.

“come to bed,” you murmur, kissing his knuckles. your free hand coasts a long line across his jaw and you dig your thumb beneath his ear, giggling when he scrunches his features and relents, and pushes you to stand with a swat to your naked backside.

art curls into you instinctively when you roll onto the mattress, your hand threading through the curls atop his head. you scrub sweeping circles across his bare back and he hums a pleased sound, smearing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. patrick splays himself over the pair of you, all long limbs that sit askew to cover as much of your naked frames as possible.

art squints through the yellow light that illuminates the room, bright and artificial on his sensitive eyes. your movements against him don’t halt, a slow, rhythmic, loving sweep of your hands that he’s come to look forward to in moments like this. his jaw tilts upward as he mouths at your neck like a starved man, like you haven’t just gone five rounds and collapsed from overstimulation.

“you two need supervision,” patrick snorts. you quirk a bemused brow. “i’m serious, look at what you’ve done to each other! you look like you’ve been mauled.”

“jealous, much?” art mumbles sleepily, the sound muffled through your skin. you’re laughing and it splits your expression in two, eyes crinkled with amusement as the strawberry blonde boy snipes at patrick.

“should’a come to college with us, pretty boy,” you giggle. “could’a had this twenty four seven.” you dip your head until your brow presses to art’s. “poor pat, with no one to stick his dick in. how will he ever cope?”

“you could help me out, sweets,” he deadpans, the nickname saccharine and sour on his tongue all at once. art watches you through heavy lids. you huff, biting playfully at art’s lip before you tilt your head to face patrick,

“okay,” you chirrup. art’s quick to sit up, separating from your warmth in favour of nuzzling against patrick. patrick tips his chin down, slanting his lips against the blonde boy’s.

meanwhile, you’re working his cock through his shorts, palming the muscle until it chubs up beneath your hand, drooling a wet patch through the fabric. patrick groans, hips rolling up into your touch when you hook your fingers beneath his waistband and tug his cock free.

he moans into art’s mouth and your mouth goes dry at the sight. you’ve always loved to watch them like this, the way they get lost in each other, the way they start fervently pushing into one another’s space until patrick inevitably makes the first move and sticks his tongue down art’s throat.

patrick turns to putty beneath art’s roaming touch, huge paws that squeeze and grope and push at every inch of skin they come into contact with, not stopping even as you press your face to the seam of patrick’s balls, inhaling the sweat-soaked musk that creeps up your nostrils.

art’s hand snakes downward, flicking over pert nipples and ridges of muscle before he’s flicking a thumb over the weeping slit of his cock. patrick’s back bows into an arch as you lave your tongue over his sack, humming into the sensitive skin, full and heavy and begging for release. his hips rock upward into you as you seal your lips over him, eyes heavy with lust as art comes down to meet your mouth over his mushroom head.

it’s filthy and messy, downright pornographic as art licks over patrick’s cock, tongue pressing flat against the corner of your mouth and letting his spit pool there. you’re moaning - unable to help yourself - pressing your face forward to slant your lips over art’s fully. it’s all spit and drool as you lick into art’s mouth, the heady taste of the brunette boy still on your tongue, and then patrick’s bracing a hand against each of your heads and easing his cock through the seam where your spit slick mouths mesh.

you gasp and your damp lashes flutter, heavy with tears, and art’s tugging you frantically by your waist, pressing your bare chest to his own as patrick throws his head back and groans, shallow thrusts deepening. his breath stutters out in short, sharp bursts, chest heaving when your face slides down, down, down, all the way to the base of him until your pretty plump lips are wrapped around his sack.

you suck it into your mouth just as art takes patrick down his throat, the head of his cock bulging through the hollow of art’s throat as spit stretches and bows from the corners of his lips and lands in globs across your face.

you’re too drunk on the pleasure to care, the vibrations of your little sounds shooting right through patrick until you feel his balls tighten; he groans, long and loud, pushing closer to the pair of you as his cock pulses rhythmically and he releases down art’s throat.

you push your way through until your mouth is on art’s again, tongue licking into his mouth to taste patrick, wanting to be marked, claimed by both of them. his lips part, nose pressing to your cheek, and then he’s lifting you into his lap, his cock an angry red and pressed to the seam of your thigh.

patrick groans. there’s no fucking way he’s hard again.

“no more, you horndogs!”

[mephisto-reporting]

Husband?

About: How does he react when you accidentally call him your 'husband'? Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. My inbox is open for prompts and requests :)

RAFAYEL

The evening was going smoother than expected, considering Rafayel had dragged you along to one of his many gallery showings. He had made a big deal about how you should be the one showing off his work to the public, claiming he didn’t want to deal with the “art-snobs." Yet, the second you both arrived, he quickly preoccupied himself on his phone, leaving you to handle most of the small talk.

One of the visitors, a curious older woman, was admiring a painting of his, a chaotic burst of color with soft hints of golden light. You were discussing Rafayel’s "creative process" (whatever that was—he hadn't told you much before retreating to his phone), when she asked how long you’d been working with him.

“Oh, it’s been a while now. It’s honestly amazing seeing him grow like this—my husb—” You froze mid-sentence, realizing the slip just as it left your mouth.

"Husband?"

The word hung in the air for barely a second before you felt Rafayel’s presence shift. His head shot up like a bolt of lightning, his playful, cunning eyes locking onto yours. You could practically feel his grin before you even dared to glance over. You didn’t even need to turn around to feel his gaze burning into you, practically shouting, Oh? Husband, you say?

“Husband, huh?” Rafayel drawled, pocketing his phone and sauntering toward you with that signature smirk of his. “I didn’t realize we were making things official tonight. If I’d known, I’d have worn something even more dazzling.”

You flushed, attempting to stammer out a correction, but he was far too pleased to let you off the hook that easily. He leaned casually against the gallery wall, one arm crossing his chest as he dramatically placed a hand over his heart.

He gently took your hand in his, his dramatic flair dialed up to maximum as he pressed an exaggerated kiss to your knuckles, clearly relishing the moment. "I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised. Who wouldn’t want to marry someone as charming as me?"

The visitor chuckled awkwardly, clearly not sure whether to stay or go, but Rafayel was already having way too much fun. “Of course, as your loving husband,” he continued, drawing out the word in a singsong voice, “it’s only fitting that I’m showered with even more attention now, isn’t it? I expect lots of praise, darling. I mean, just look at me." He struck a faux thought-provoking pose, tilting his head and flipping a lock of his perfectly tousled hair.

You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but at the same time, his antics made you laugh. “I didn’t mean to—"

"Oh no, no,” he interrupted, wagging his finger playfully. “You can’t take it back now. The word’s out, Miss Bodyguard. You’ve called me your husband. That means you’re stuck with me. Forever.” There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Does this mean I get to cheat at board games forever too?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you playfully swatted at his shoulder. “As if you needed a reason to cheat more!”

Rafayel laughed, that familiar bratty grin plastered across his face. “Well, if I’m your husband now, I think it’s only fair I get first dibs on everything. Cards, claw machines—oh, and don’t forget, I demand the comfiest seat when we binge-watch our shows.”

Despite his teasing, the warmth in his eyes made your heart skip a beat. You could see the genuine delight he took in your slip-up, how pleased he was at the thought, even if he’d never admit it outright.

“Fine, fine,” you sighed dramatically, playing along. “But don’t expect me to let you win at everything, ‘husband.’”

Rafayel beamed, and for a moment, that bratty, carefree mask of his slipped, just a little. He tugged you closer, his voice softening as he murmured, “Deal.” Then, just as quickly, he switched back to his usual, cheeky self. “Now, let’s go, wife. You’re required to be by my side while I survive this boring night. ”

Shaking your head, you laughed, unable to hide the smile creeping onto your lips. “You’re impossible.”

The woman, watching the scene unfold with a warm smile, laughed. “You two make quite the pair.”

“Oh, we do, don’t we?” Rafayel quipped before lowering his voice just enough for only you to hear, leaning in ever so slightly. “You’ve really outdone yourself, calling me that in front of witnesses. Now they’ll all expect a wedding invitation.”

Your face burned as you tried to shush him, but he was loving every second of it. He tilted his head, his hair catching the light as his smile softened into something more genuine, the bratty exterior fading just a bit. “Still… I can’t say I hate the sound of it,” he murmured, brushing a finger lightly under your chin before pulling back with a playful wink. “I might just get used to hearing it.”

You could only manage a huff of exasperation, but deep down, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter at the way his teasing had just a hint of sincerity behind it.

Rafayel, always dramatic, and yet somehow, just when you least expected it, a little bit sweet.

ZAYNE

You and Zayne were in the middle of your usual weekly grocery run, efficiently dividing and conquering your list to save time. He’d taken off towards the produce section while you headed for the rice aisle. As you browsed the different varieties, a middle-aged man beside you struggled with lifting a heavy bag of rice.

"Need a hand?" you asked, stepping in to help. The man smiled gratefully as you hoisted the bag into his cart with ease.

"Thank you, young lady," he said, rubbing his wrist. "My arthritis is flaring up today. Getting old’s no fun."

You offered him a sympathetic smile. “No problem at all. My husband’s a doctor, actually. I’m sure he’d tell you to take it easy on that wrist."

The man nodded in agreement, offering you one last thanks before heading off. You turned back to your cart, completely unaware of the word you had just let slip—husband—or the fact that Zayne had returned in time to hear it.

You felt him step up behind you, his presence calm yet undeniably magnetic. When you finally glanced over, he was standing there, hands in his pockets, a small, amused smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Husband, hmm?" he said softly, his tone more curious than teasing. "That's... new."

You froze for a second, eyes widening as you realized what you’d said.  You opened your mouth, the words tripping over each other in a rush. “I didn’t— I mean, it just—slipped out. We’re not actually—I mean, obviously, we’re not—” You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, and no amount of backpedaling was helping.

Zayne didn’t seem in a rush to let you off the hook. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining with an ease that made your heart stutter. “You know,” he said, voice as calm as ever, “if this is your way of bringing it up, there are smoother ways to do it.” His teasing was subtle, barely perceptible if you didn’t know him well, but it was there in the gentle tug of his smile.

You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Zayne, I didn’t mean to—”

But Zayne, ever level-headed, merely took your hand in his, his thumb gently brushing against your knuckles. “Relax,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “It’s not like I mind the idea.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that, and you looked up at him in surprise. There was a softness in his usually stoic gaze, the kind that made your stomach flip. He continued, his voice measured but affectionate, “Seems like the next logical step, doesn’t it? My parents have been asking me when I’m going to take that step with you for a while now.”

His calm tone made the statement feel both casual and monumental at the same time. “Wait, your parents…?” you started, blinking as your brain processed this new information.

“Mhm,” Zayne replied, still holding your hand as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “They’ve been pretty vocal about it, actually. But I’ve been waiting for the right moment.”

The right moment. Those words hung in the air, and you could feel the weight of what he was saying. He was serious—calm and casual, as always, but serious. Your breath caught, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. It was just you and Zayne in that grocery aisle, hands linked, talking about a future you hadn’t even realized you both wanted.

“Only if you wanted to, of course,” he added, his thumb still tracing soft circles on your hand. “I wouldn’t do anything unless we both agreed.”

You stared at him, a smile slowly spreading across your face despite the initial shock. “You’re really suggesting this now? In the middle of a grocery store?”

Zayne smirked, his usual pragmatic self. “Well, we’re already talking about it. Might as well make use of the time.” He glanced down at your joined hands, his tone softening again. “Besides, I think it’s worth discussing what our future looks like, don’t you?”

Your heart swelled at his words, and the warmth of his hand in yours was enough to make you feel grounded, no matter how your emotions were spinning. “Yeah,” you said, smiling as you squeezed his hand gently. “I think it’s definitely worth talking about.”

Zayne leaned in closer, his lips brushing your temple in a rare public display of affection. “Good,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet kind of affection that made your chest tighten. “We’ll talk more later.”

He pulled away just as smoothly, picking up the cart with a practiced ease, as though he hadn’t just suggested the two of you start planning your future together. His eyes twinkled, a subtle tease hiding behind that usual calm exterior of his.

“And for the record,” he added, as the two of you moved on to the next aisle, “I wouldn’t mind hearing you call me ‘husband’ again.”

Your cheeks heated again, but this time, you didn’t bother trying to hide your smile. “Guess you’ll have to earn it first, doctor.”

Zayne chuckled softly, that familiar, grounded confidence in his voice. “I’ll be sure to work on that.”

SYLUS

The desert sun was relentless, and you could feel its heat pressing down on you as you stood beside Sylus, waiting to be seated inside the restaurant. He had dragged you out of Linkon on one of his mysterious ventures—no explanation, no warning, just the two of you thrust into the desert with little more than his cryptic directions. And while Sylus might have thrived in the N109 Zone's shadowy world, he was decidedly out of place here in the glaring sunlight,already starting to show hints of discomfort.

You glanced over at him, squinting slightly under the bright light. His expression was carefully controlled as always, but you noticed how his hand twitched subtly as if annoyed by the heat. The two of you had been waiting to be seated inside for a while now, and you decided it was time to speed things up.

Catching the attention of a passing waitress, you waved her over, putting on your best expression of concern. “Excuse me, my husband and I were hoping to be seated inside. I’m feeling a little faint under the harsh sun,” you said smoothly, the lie of you feeling faint rolling off your tongue with ease.

The word husband had slipped out so naturally, you didn’t even realize your mistake until the waitress nodded sympathetically and promised to get you a table indoors right away. As she walked off, you felt a cold gaze slide over you, and you turned to see Sylus staring down at you, one brow raised, a slow, dangerous smile creeping across his face.

“Husband?” His voice was smooth, but there was a teasing lilt beneath it. “Did I miss a wedding, wife?”

Your breath caught in your throat. "Wait—no, I didn't mean—" You started to stammer, heat rising to your cheeks, but before you could backtrack any further, Sylus’ arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer to his side. His grip was firm, possessive, and you could feel the smug amusement radiating off of him.

“I like the sound of that,” he murmured, leaning in just close enough for you to catch the scent of the desert air still clinging to his clothes. His lips ghosted near your ear, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Maybe this is a sign I should make it official.”

You swallowed hard, heart racing as you tried to keep your composure. “Official?” you echoed, your voice coming out a little more breathless than you intended. “What—what are you talking about?”

Sylus’ smirk widened, his amber eyes gleaming in the sun. “Oh? Cat got your tongue, Sweetie?” he teased, his tone dripping with amusement as he let his fingers trace a light circle on your hip. “You seemed so sure a moment ago, wife. But now? Speechless.”

You blinked, trying to gather your wits, but the sheer cockiness in his tone was making it hard to think straight. “I…I was just…helping us get a table,” you protested weakly, trying to pull away from his grip, but his hold only tightened.

“Oh, I’m sure you were,” he drawled, clearly reveling in your flustered state. “But now that you’ve set the bar so high, don’t tell me you’re going to back out on me. After all, you made quite the declaration back there.”

“I wasn’t—” You huffed, narrowing your eyes at him as you regained a sliver of your usual confidence. “You know it was a slip-up, Sylus. Don’t start getting ideas.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Ideas? Sweetie, I live for ideas.” His grip loosened just enough to let you step back, but the way he looked at you made it clear he wasn’t about to let you wriggle out of this one easily. “But let’s be honest, you didn’t hate it. Calling me your husband.”

Your face flushed again, but this time, you managed to meet his gaze without faltering. “I didn’t hate it,” you admitted, folding your arms, “but don’t go thinking you’ve won. I’m not about to sign any papers just because you liked hearing it.”

Sylus tilted his head, the playful smile never leaving his lips. “We’ll see about that, kitten” he said, the threat—or promise—hanging in the air between you as the waitress returned to guide you inside.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Please, Sylus. You couldn’t handle being married to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in with that infuriating smirk. “Oh, I think I could handle you just fine, sweetheart. You’re the one who might need to keep up.”

You shot back, “Keep up? I’d be carrying you the whole way.”

“Careful, Sweetie. That sounds an awful lot like a challenge.” He chuckled, his hand brushing against yours again. “Now that’s a tempting thought.”

“Tempting? Try exhausting,” you quipped.

As you walked beside him, you felt his arm brush against yours, and the sensation lingered far longer than it should have. Sylus, of course, said nothing, though the smug expression never quite left his face.

This was clearly far from over. And judging by the glint in his eye, Sylus was going to make sure you never forgot your little slip-up.

XAVIER

The café was quiet, filled with the soft murmur of patrons and the comforting smell of fresh pastries. You and Xavier had settled in for a peaceful afternoon, your table already adorned with a delightful array of treats. He had requested a simple drink—no whipped cream. The barista returned, placing his drink in front of him with an impressive mountain of whipped cream on top. Xavier, as calm and indifferent as ever, simply blinked at it, showing no signs of complaint. He wasn’t going to say a word about it, but that didn’t mean you were going to let it slide.

Excusing yourself, you raised a hand and called over a passing staff member. “Excuse me,” you began, with a polite smile. “My husband asked for no whipped cream on his drink, but it looks like there’s some here by mistake. Would it be alright for us to get it changed?”

The words tumbled out so smoothly that you didn’t even realize your slip-up until the staff member nodded apologetically and hurried back to fix the order. It was only when you turned back around that you saw Xavier sitting there, looking unusually... stunned.

He was blinking slowly at you, his expression softened by a hint of confusion and—was that amusement? “Husband?” he repeated, his soft voice barely more than a murmur.

Your face flushed as you fumbled for an explanation. “Oh, no, wait—! I didn’t mean—” You stammered, desperately trying to backtrack. “That just slipped out! I meant to say…uh my boyfriend? Partner? Date? Not—well, not husband, obviously…”

Xavier continued to blink, his face now showing just a little more expression than usual. The faintest curl of a smile played on his lips, and he tilted his head, considering your words. “I must’ve missed that chapter in the 'Guide to a Healthy Relationship,'” he said in that calm, unruffled way of his. “I didn’t know we’d moved on to the husband-and-wife stage.”

You groaned inwardly, burying your face in your hands. “I swear, it was an accident. Just ignore what I said.”

But Xavier was clearly in no mood to let it go. “So, dear wife,” he continued, completely unfazed by your protests, “do you think we’ll have matching mugs in our future? Maybe get a nice house, with a small garden and a picket fence?”

You shot him a playful glare, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible to stay annoyed. “Very funny,” you muttered, though your lips were twitching at the corners, betraying your amusement.

“I think it has a nice ring to it,” Xavier said, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying this far more than you expected. “I wonder how long it would take for people in the association to start sending us wedding gifts. Or perhaps they'd just send weapons... you know, as a gesture of goodwill.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t think wedding gifts are really their style, Xavier.”

“Hmm, you’re probably right,” he said thoughtfully, then leaned in slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “But you did call me your husband in public. Shouldn’t we at least play the part now?”

Your cheeks were burning, but you couldn’t resist playing along with his ridiculousness. “Fine,” you said, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. “But just so you know, dear husband, you’ll be the one doing the dishes.”

Xavier chuckled softly, the sound rare and surprisingly warm. “As long as you take care of meals. A fair trade.”

You were about to retort when the waitress returned with Xavier’s newly corrected drink—this time, free of whipped cream. She set it down with a smile, glancing between the two of you as if she’d picked up on the playful atmosphere. “Here you go,” she said. “No whipped cream this time, sir.”

Xavier’s eyes glinted as he thanked her with a nod, and after she left, he looked back at you with a satisfied expression. “See? Husband perks,” he teased, taking a sip of his drink.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile spreading across your face. “You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he said, the teasing lilt in his voice gentler now. He took your hand under the table, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “But... thank you,” he added after a beat, his voice softer and more sincere. “For speaking up for me.”

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown off by the gratitude in his tone. “Of course,” you said, squeezing his hand in return. “That’s what wives do, right?”

Xavier let out a soft laugh. “I suppose so,” he murmured, his lips quirking into a rare, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat.

In that moment, with his hand in yours and the gentle teasing in the air, it was easy to forget the world outside the café. Just the two of you, playing pretend—but maybe, just maybe, something more.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[lyrefromthesea]

Male pillars x Reader - sitting on their lap

author's note: I'm strictly against any kind of sexual interactions with minors. That's why I will either exclude Muichiro from such fics of or portray a wholesome interaction instead.

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Muichiro x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: suggestive words and actions

Tengen:

"excuse me? I'm married!" he dramatically exclaimed, looking down at you. the man was already trying to refrain from smiling, watching you turn your head towards him.

"i'm sure Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma will forgive me." you answered, showing him your hand. he smirked at the all too familiar ring. he was glad he had married you.

"just playin', i could never disappoint the flamboyant person i married!" he laughed, clearly proud of himself. when you cocked your eyebrow at him, he let out a dramatic gasp, pulling you closer.

"are you trying to say i'm not the most perfect husband you could imagine?" he asked, displaying a huge amount of shock. you knew he was just making fun, especially when he pressed your back against his chest, bringing his lips to your ear.

"you were saying entirely different things yesterday." he said, watching you shudder at his words. you slapped his knee, scolding him for saying such things outside.

"come on, you know you love it!"

Obanai:

he freezes, his brain nearly malfunctioning. it's not like you've never sat on his lap before, but you usually gave him a warning first - asked for his approval.

"[name]? what's-" he asked, surprised when your arms wrapped around his neck, barely giving Kaburamaru time to slither away. words got stuck in his throat, feeling your lips against his mask - right above his own.

"nothing. i was just feeling affectionate." you answered, shifting to wrap your arms around his torso. he looked down at you, letting out a quiet yelp when your hips moved a bit too much on his lap.

"oh..?" you looked at him, a smile slowly forming on your lips. a blush made his way towards his cheeks, luckily covered by his mask. at least he felt lucky, you would've liked to see him blush.

"it looks like you're feeling affectionate too, Obanai." you chuckled, purposely drawing light circles with your hips. of course you had noticed the growing bulge in his pants, his hands now holding yours.

"don't tease me, [name].."

Rengoku:

"little flame! how was your day?" he enthusiastically asked, his arms wrapping around your torso. he pulled you closer, placing his chin on your shoulder.

"it was okay, i missed you." you answered, leaning against his chest. he smiled at you, enjoying the way your bodies were pressed together so gently.

"we can't have that, little flame! how about we go eat later?" he asked, holding you a bit closer. you chuckled at his words, he really loved taking you to new places - especially restaurants.

"i'd like that. let's go eat something later."

Sanemi:

"and what the hell are you doing?" Sanemi asked, feeling you make yourself comfortable on his lap.

he had cleaned his sword moments prior, hearing the door open - it was you. you moved towards him without warning, getting between him and his sword.

"getting your attention." you answered, moving even closer. don't think he didn't notice the way you purposely squished your chest against his own.

"yeah? didn't I give ya enough attention, sweetheart?" he teased, watching you pout in response. you had been alone for far too long, you finally wanted to spend time with him.

"you've been working on your sword for two hours now.." you complained. he placed it down, knowing that you were right. he just felt like the proper care could safe his ass one day, though a shiny sword probably wasn't that important.

"fine, ya win. this was getting uncomfortable anyways." he answered, almost making you question what he meant until he pressed his hips against yours more. oh, now you could feel it too.

"does that mean you want my attention as well-" you asked playfully, getting cut off by his lips pressing against yours before you could finished talking.

Giyuu:

"is everything alright?" his voice broke the silence, you've been sitting on his lap for almost 5 minutes now, not saying a single word. he was confused, not sure if you were fine or needed help.

"Giyuu, attention?" you asked, feeling him relax under you. he had been tense, thinking you could've been hurt somewhere. your words instantly calmed him down, his lips pressing against yours gently.

he didn't expect you to turn his soft kiss into something more passionate. his hands slowly came to hold your hips, tongues swishing against each other.

you broke the kiss, panting against his lips. he pressed his forehead against yours, pulling you a bit closer, only to have your hips start grinding slightly.

"l- love.. t- that's not.." he muttered, his cheeks visibly growing more red. hands squeezing your hips more, trying to create more friction. he could only moan when you finally started grinding against him properly.

"i.. i need to go on a mission later.." he panted against your lips, but he didn't object when you kissed him again, your hand wandering to his belt.

Muichiro:

"Muichiro! i finally caught up to you.." you heaved, letting yourself fall onto his lap. you had been running for nearly twenty minutes now, watching the boy leave his estate without food. being the good friend you were, you ran after him.

"[name]? what are you doing here..?" he asked, letting you lean against him. your cheeks were flushed from running. it would've been different if you also were a hashira, but you still had much to learn.

"you.. you forget your food, Mui.." you panted, reaching into your pocket. he looked rather surprised when he saw the small box of food he usually brought with him.

"thank you..! i've completely forgotten." he laughed, eventually coaxing a smile out of you. you gave him the box, seeing his eyes lit up at the promise of food.

he wanted to dive right in before he had a quiet growl come from your stomach, making your cheeks flush. "do you want some?" he asked, watching you shake your head.

"i brought my own!" you countered, grabbing into your back once more. silence filled the room when you noticed you had only brought his food.

his arm wrapped around your torso, forcing you to stay on his lap a while longer. "let's share." he said, offering you some of his food. you knew he wouldn't let you go until you have had a healthy portion.

Gyomei:

"welcome back." the giant said, feeling you plop onto his lap, nuzzling against his chest. you let out a tired hum, feeling a large hand soothingly rub over your arm.

"is there something wrong? you're more quiet than usual." he asked, gently bringing your head closer with his hand - allowing you to be closer to him. you could hear the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat.

your day had been stressful, but he somehow always managed to calm you down. his warmth. his voice. his actions. they put your mind at ease.

"i know it's ridiculous, but i've felt really stressed out lately. i just want a break.." you muttered, closing your eyes. you were trying to focus on his heartbeat and ignore everything else around you.

"it's not ridiculous, you deserve a break. perhaps a visit to the hot spring would help calm you down?" he offered, feeling you nod against his chest. you felt warm hands rub over your thighs, his head now closer to yours.

"and i could pamper you a bit more after that.." he muttered against your ear, your eyes opening again. the warmth pooling in your gut could probably rival the hot spring's temperature

[rafesslxt]

✧.* 𝐒𝐋𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 | 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃

જ⁀➴ your best friends get a hint of how sexually frustrated you are and offer their help

: ̗̀➛ nsfw, smut, teasing, making out, nicknames, cheating with Tom, fingering, oral on female, p in v unprotected, nipple sucking

「 ✦ Mattheo, Tom, Theodore, Enzo, Draco, Pansy ✦ 」

Mattheo:

❥ It didn‘t took him long to notice something‘s wrong. You two sit together in potions, currently making a new potion. Normally you two would laugh and banter all the time, teasing each other but you were so quiet today and didn‘t even look at him

❥ "Y/n, is everything alright?" he asks and puts his hand on your shoulder, drawing a little whine from you. His eyebrows knitted and he took a step back, scanning you whole. He just then noticed your flushed cheeks, flustered expression, your thighs pressed together and your bottom lip between your teeth. You were turned on.

❥ He wanted to test his theory a little and started to prepare the ingredients for the potion in front of you two. He flexed his arms a little, knowing you liked his hands because you once told him when you two were drunk. He saw your hungry gaze at his hands, making him smile to himself.

❥ "Here, chop up the root. Can you do that for me, doll?" He softly breathed against your face, coming dangerous close to you. The nickname gave you visible shiver‘s, just feeding right into his ego. He had a crush on you since forever but never actually had the balls to tell you.

❥ After class was over and you guys were free he pulled you with him to his dorm. "M-mattheo what are you doing?" you wondered but followed him. He closed the door behind you and grabbed you by your hips, pushing you against the door. A gasp left your lips and you looked at him like a deer in the lights.

❥ "Care to tell me why you‘re so .. on edge?" Thats when you finally let everything out. You broke up with your boyfriend and the reason was simple: He couldn't fuck. Mattheo had to hold back a laugh at your outburst of emotions. "It's not funny! It's so frustrating you can't even imagine!"

❥ "Want me to help you? You know.. like a best friend would." he offers you with a smug smirk on his face. You thought he was joking until he had you trembling and shaking under him. He hit every corner and touched every part of your skin that was untouched by your ex-boyfriend. "What are friends for huh?" he moaned when you clenched around him, your nails digging into his back when your orgasm came nearer. Let's just say, you never ever had to fear bad sex again.

Tom Riddle:

❥ You and your best friend Tom sat together in the library when no one was there anymore, thank‘s to Tom‘s charm and good reputation. It all started with your leg bouncing the whole time until Tom send you an annoyed glare which made you stop immediately.

❥ But it continued with your sighing. It got so distracting that at one point Tom slapped his book down onto the table so hard that you flinched. "Please tell me why you‘re sighing like a hurt puppy the whole damn time."

❥ You really considered telling him but you were kind of shy when talking about things like that. On top if that Tom already hated your boyfriend and you didn‘t want to give him another reason to add to the list. "Nothing, just.. tired."

❥ Tired my ass was what Tom thought. He knew you were lying so he had to try a different way. It didn‘t took him long to get inside your head with his new found skill ' Legilimency'

❥ "He told you what?!" Tom suddenly shouts at you. "What?" you asked him confused. "He told you that when you asked him for some foreplay?" He didn‘t even tried to hide the fact that he read your mind. "Tom! Stop going through my head all the damn time!" "Did he seriously tell you it‘s not worth the time?"

❥ He scoffs when you tell him the whole thing that happened with your boyfriend. "No wonder you‘re that sexually frustrated." "Excuse me?" "Come on. All the sighing and leg bouncing the whole time? Your body needs release." He said in a monotone voice like he talked about the weather. "Well – it‘s not that easy Tom." "It is. Let me help you."

❥ Since he could read your mind it made no sense to even try and deny the excitement that went through your body at his offer. He had you laying all spread out for him on the library desk in front of him. Books and notes all over the place and even floor. Your skirt got pushed up to your stomach and his fingers skillfully played with your throbbing clit.

❥ "Look at that. How could this not be worth anyone‘s time hm?" Tom muttered while sucking on your nipples, switching every minute between them while pumping his fingers in and out of you, his thumb circling your clit until you came around his digits. And that waw just the beginning of a whole night of foreplay.

Theodore Nott:

❥ That‘s exactly how your best friend looks at you when he overhears you talking to Pansy, telling her, you haven‘t slept with someone in so long that you would do abything for dick now. Obviously it was a joke. But obviously Theo wouldn’t be Theo If he didn‘t already formed a plan in his head.

❥ Teasing was the keyword. And patience. Theo‘s plan was to tease you little by little over days to get a reaction out of you.

❥ First day he brushed past you every here and there with his hips pushing slightly against you and his hands on your hips. It made your whole head spin and you tried to calm down, seeing him smiling at you innocently.

❥ The second day was just as simple. The whole day he whispered into your ear, laughing, joking, asking things about the class you two were having right now. And with every whisper he brushed his lips against your ear lobe or shell, his warm breath hitting your skin and leaving goosebumps behind.

❥ On the third day he got a bit bolder. When you started bouncing your leg or fidgeting with your fingers, he would put his hand on your thigh. High. He said "It‘s to calm you down a little bit cara mia." His big hands squeezing your flesh and his fingers stroking your desperate skin.

❥ Day four you and all your friends sat in the common room on the couch by the fireplace. You sat next to Theo of course, sharing a blanket since it‘s cold due the late night. At some point he had you leaning against his chest with his arms around you. While you lazily listened to Draco telling ya‘ll a story, Theo‘s finger started to dance over your slighty exposed skin on your stomach. Your shirt mist have rosen up a little under the blanket. You sucked in a breath, trying not to melt right there in front of everyone.

❥ Day five and six were the hardest because he completely neglected you. He talked to you but never stood beside you or sat next to you in class or lunch. It drove you literally crazy. Why would he do this to you? He didn‘t even hug you. But you also couldn‘t ask him because how would that sound? 'Hey Theo why don‘t you touch me anymore?' No thanks.

❥ Day seven was when you actually broke. "Theo, we need to talk, please." You practically dragged him away from the rest of your friends to your‘s and Pansy‘s room. "How can I help you principessa?" he asked with a smug smile on his face. "Touch me." was all you blurted out. He raised his eyebrows and looked surprised at you. "What?" "Touch me Theo, please. I - I can‘t concentrate anymore when you‘re not near me."

❥ Well – what was supposed to be innocent touching and stroking, ended with you on your belly on your bed with Theo behind you, pounding his cock into your pussy. "Everytime from now on that you feel like this, you come to me, capito?"

Lorenzo Berkshire:

❥ You and Enzo were best friends since you could remember. You two have gone through everything together. Break-up‘s, first heartbreak, fighting with parents, puberty, seeing each other naked by accident, literally everything.

❥ You two were so close that nobody even questioned it when you were cuddling under a blanket in the common room late at night while your friends talked about how unfair the quidditch game today was.

❥ "Did you use that peach-shampoo again?" he whispered into your ear when you layed down on his chest and your hair was right under his nose. You looked up at him and nodded with a smile, knowing it was his favorite. He sighs when he inhales it and wraps his arms around you, his fingers playing with the hem of your little crop top.

❥ Enzo was so concentrated at sonething Theodore told the group, that he didn‘t notice how he started to play with the top of her skirt, his fingers gliding under it so innocently. When you noticed you stopped breathing for a second, glanzing up at your best friend who didn‘t seem to notice what he was doing.

❥ At first it was okay but after ten more minutes, you felt yourself getting restless in his arms and shifted every now and then in his lap. You felt yourself get slowly turned on from his little touch. With his second hand he started to stroke your thigh mindlessly, not realizing how your cheeks started to get red and your pussy wet. You pressed your lips together.

❥ Then it happened. Your hips grinded against his lap out of the pleasure and desperation you felt. He froze immediately and stopped moving his hands and fingers. He gulped and looked down at you, your heavy eyes already looking up at him when you grinded against him again boldly.

❥ He swallowed down a moan when your ass grinded against his crotch. "What are you doing baby?" The nickname send shivers down your spine together with his raspy voice against your ear. "I think – I think I need out friendship to go to the next level." You breathed out. You saw him biting his lips when his hands startet moving again. One hand continueing massaging your thigh while the other slipped down into your underwear and went straight to your slick folds.

❥ "Shit you‘re soaked." he breathed when he dipped his finger into your wet pussy, teasing your throbbing clit. Your hips bucked up and you tried to be as quiete as possible so your friends around you wouldn‘t notice. Right when you were about to come around his fingers, he pulled them away, your eyes going wide.

❥ You glared up at him with a desperate look in your eyes and rosy cheeks. He licked his fingers clean when no one watched and smirked down at you. "Don‘t worry baby, you‘re gonna come around something way bigger."

Draco Malfoy:

❥ "Draco?" "Yes, y/n?" You currently were in his room at the malfoy manor due holiday‘s and since his parents really liked you – good reputation and behavior, pure blood family and a lot of money – they never had a problem with you over. The complete opposite was the case. They often hoped you two would be more than best friends some day.

❥ "Can you remember when you told me you would do anything for me?" You asked him with your voice cute and hopeful. "No.. but go on." You roll your eyes at his answer but go on like he said.

❥ "Well, there is something that you could do for me that I think you would enjoy too." you said carefully. His eyebrows rose up and he looked at you curious now. "Oh yeah and what would that be, doll?" That‘s the nickname he used on you everytime you asked him for a favor.

❥ Now or never, right? "I - I want you.. tofuckme." His eyes go wide and his jaw fell to the floor. "What did you just say?" he asks slowly, not sure If he understood right. "I said Iwantyoutofuckme." He stood up and walked over to you, grabbing you by your chin. "Y/n.. tell me slowly what you said or I swear – " "I want you to fuck me, Draco."

❥ His lips crashed into yours just a second later, pushing you down on his bed. You kissed him vack, more confused than he was. "Are you- aren‘t you gonna ask why I want this so suddenly?" you gasp when he starts sucking on your neck and his fingers already opening your jeans.

❥ "Fuck no, you can tell me afterwards. I don‘t care." he breathes before he throws all of your clothes all over his room and fucks you into his mattress for the whole night.

❥ After you two were done he pulled you against his chest, still breathing heavily. "And? What was the reason?" he asked out of breath. "Well uh – I broke up with Colin. He just couldn‘t make me happy in and outside the bedroom so .. I wanted to ask you to help me since ai felt so.. worked up." He chuckled deeply and pulled you even closer. "Told you he‘s a loser.." you roll your eyes at his comment. "You‘re mine bow, hope you know that."

Pansy Parkinson:

❥ "Pansy, can I ask you something?" you asked your best friend. You two shared a dorm together and sat currently in front of the tv you had bought for the two if you. Her new favorite show "baby" was playing. It was a italian show and she loved learning new languages. "Of course, what‘s wrong?" "Why has something to be wrong?" "Y/n.. you never ask to ask something.. only when something is wrong."

❥ You had to smile a little at her answer and rolled your eyes playfully. "Since you‘re sleeping with boys and girls.. I wanted to ask you.. do you enjoy going down on girls?" Pansy looks at you surprised. "Why are you asking me that? This isn‘t coming from no where."

❥ I sigh and look at my hands. "Uhm – Brody said he doesn‘t like it and it .. freaks him out." I tell her what my boyfriend told me. Her eyes go wide and she almost shouts at me, "He said what?!" "Can you please just answer me Pansy?"

❥ She sighs and looks at my fidgety hands. "Of course I enjoy it and what kind of man is he that he says something like that to you?" "Is it possible that maybe it‘s.. me? That something is wrong with me and not him? Maybe it looks weird or-" "Y/n stop. I promise you nothing is wrong with you love."

❥ "But you can‘t know that Pans.." "Do you want to try?" Now you are the one who looks at her in shock. "You would ?" "Yeah but only If you‘re comfortable with it of course. I know that you only have been with boys." Your cheeks heated up a little at the thought of doing something so intimate with your best friend. You two have talked about that one time and Pansy knew how open you were to trying it someday with a woman too.

❥ Let‘s just say from there on you never questioned yourself again. "Pansy I - that‘s do good." You let out a whinper, your habds going through her hair. "Hmm such a pretty girl. You‘re doing so good love." She praised you, smiling to herself. She would have a lot of fun with you in the future.

let me know If you liked it 🫶🏻 and sorry if pansy‘s part is so short but i ran out of time, ideas and i never wrote for her before 🤍

taglist: @justarandomcanadiantransdude @helendeath @thatonepansexual2000 @imabee-oralizard @supernaturaldawning @cardi-bre91 @sofa-couch26 @little-miss-naill @kolsangel @auxcordlawd @itsarajr @jolly4holly @hisparentsgallerryy @slytherinscreamqueen @mixvchelle @littlemadamred @ummmmmmm-username @jeannie-beannie @belle-blue @beautywine @sagetakami @simp-for-fantasy @whyamireadingthis

My masterlist and taglist 🤍

xoxo sarah <3

[monstersholygrail]

With the slow stroke of Demon Priests' cock driving you to insanity, you can't help but look down at his neck. His uniform askew and messy yet his collar still intact as he was so desperate to get inside you he didn’t even bother to take all his clothes off. As you tease the skin just under the collar, Demon Priest shivers, a low rumble moving through his throat in encouragement to keep going.

“Why is part of your formal wear called a collar? A little kinky for religion, l'd say," you moan as he continues his deep thrusts.

Demon Priest laughs into your own throat, his nose rubbing along your pulse point, almost purring at the sign of your vitality. "The collar symbolizes my calling to the Lord."

You think about that for a long moment that's promptly interrupt by the smooth glide of his length along your walls.

“Would you wear a collar for me?" You ask almost absentmindedly, not knowing the extent of the meaning your words hold for him.

A loud groan escapes him, his cock twitching inside of you before he picks up pace. His member now aiming to consume and posses. Your pleasure, your body, your very being. His claws grip at your waist, marking you and making his claim on your soul just as you have his.

You cry out, your pleasure shooting through your body and collecting in your core as your orgasm builds. Body arching up into his as you meet every deep plunge of his hips, you can’t help but dig your nails into his dark skin and draw him up into your inviting form. Demon Priest’s face darkens at the control you have over him, at the ease in which he simply bends to your will.

"I'd do anything for you, you only need ask," he rasps lowly through clenched teeth as he fucks up into you, not giving you a moment to breathe or think. All you can do is hold onto him and let him ride you through waves upon waves of ecstasy.

“P-please wear a collar for me. Want your devotion, love, please,” you whine, a blubbering mess. It’s all Demon Priest needs for that final cord of restraint to snap.

With a ferocious growl that has you jumping in your skin, Demon priest holds onto you tighter and pounds away at your pussy like a savage beast. Your bodies wetly slapping together, the sound overpowering your own moans and groans.

Your mind blurs with an overwhelming intensity as shocks spark through your already buzzing body. If Demon Priest wasn’t already a demon you’d swear he was acting like a man possessed by the way he was rutting into you.

Demon Priest worships every inch of your body, small whimpers leaving you as he caresses his cock bulging in your lower tummy. An apt reminder of how deeply he’s fucking you. Your pussy clamps down on his huge cock and he growls, somehow picking up his pace.

Your body jolts with every thrust but luckily Demon Priest is right there to slam you back down on his pulsating girth, balls slapping heavily against your clit over and over again till you erupt all over his length. Squeezing him and suffocating him with your gummy walls till he joins you in climax. Pumping countless spurts of cum into your eager cunt, your tummy distending with the amount of hot semen he spills inside of you.

Demon Priest’s worship of you doesn’t end there, not that it ever truly ends. He slumps on top of you, whispering endless praises and showering you in light tender kisses and gentle massages to help you through the aftershocks. Blessing you and thanking you for making him feel more than he ever could’ve imagined.

Yet he doesn’t properly show just how much you mean to him till a few days later he stands in front of you in his formal wear with you resting naked on your bed. He makes a whole show of undressing himself, baring himself to you completely.

All to reveal the small collar you had gotten him hiding underneath his clothes. The sight turns you on more than words can describe and you can’t control yourself as you pounce on him and drag his body on top of yours by the collar. Both of you more than ready to spend hours with his body being controlled by your every dark whim.

[luveline]

YES to luna lovegood/dreamy!reader!!!!!!!!! Can we possibly get one with Spencer? <3

“It’s not as bad as you think.” 

Hotch appreciates the softness of your voice, as someone who also speaks in a very measured tone, but the sound of it has his brow furrowing. You’re a brilliant analyst, and a worse distraction whenever you’re in the main office. 

“It sounds terrible?” 

Hotch peers through the window to get a good look at the scene. You’re sitting in Spencer’s desk chair with your hands stretched out in front of you. Your outfit is very pink, considering the occasion, but it’s a non-abrasive light pink that flatters your skin. You have a clip in your hair, a small silver star with pink jewels embedded along the lines. 

Emily sips at a cup of coffee, leaning against the desk, her face to the side. Hotch can see her perturbed smile. 

“It’s fine! I’ve just been sleeping on the sofa.” 

“Well. That’s a call to pest control.” 

Spencer returns to his desk with a frown and two mugs. “Pest control?” he asks, the mug he places in front of you steaming. 

“There’s a raccoon living in her bedroom.” 

Spencer burns himself on his coffee, swearing as he puts it down hurriedly beside yours. “There’s a what?” Spencer asks. 

“He’s friendly. He came in through my vent.” 

“So friendly he’s stolen your bedroom?” 

You lean back in Spencer’s chair like it’s a La-Z-Boy, blowing at the hot surface of your drink with a similar lazy smile. “Imagine being that little and having such a big bed? When you usually sleep in the garbage?” You give a breathy laugh. “He must be having the time of his life.” 

“How are you getting ready in the mornings?” Spencer asks worriedly. 

“We’re cohabiting.” 

Spencer licks his lips. He likes you, and you seem aware of that fact, and that’s nerve-wracking for everyone involved. 

“Um, maybe we can make him a house? Like, outside? Raccoons are far happier in their natural habitat, and they’re also, you know, highly diseased and contagious compared to humans. I really don’t think you should let him inside.” 

“Spencer,” you say, giving him a dozy grin, “I didn’t let him in. He knows how to get in all by himself.” 

“I’ll call a repairman, too,” Emily says with a groan. 

She walks away, probably to find JJ and get her in on the repairs. Spencer looks at you for a long time, just drinking your tea, and Hotch mentally goads him into making a semblance of a move. Even if it’s just to fix your drooping hair clip. 

“You’re looking at me strangely again,” you say. 

Winces all around. “Am I?” Spencer asks. 

“Yes. Is this about Thursday?” 

“No.” Spencer swallows. “Yes. You didn’t answer my texts, after. I just want to know what you’re thinking.”

“What I’m thinking?” 

“Yeah. I thought about it a lot, so maybe you did too. Or maybe you didn’t, and it didn’t mean anything.” 

“Of course it meant something, Spencer.” You put down your mug, dusting your knees off before you stand. Spencer is not much taller than you where you’re standing in front of him, but you look up at him anyways. Your face tips ever so slightly to one side. “Would you want to do it again?” you ask softly. 

Spencer looks around the office. He neglects to check Hotch’s window, perhaps because the blinds are more often drawn than not, and so he doesn’t realise Hotch is watching as he draws you in for a kiss. 

You preen and lean back, hands fighting to cup his cheeks, a gauzy, practically gleaming aura around you as you smile into his mouth. Your fingertips tease his hair, and Spencer’s hand settles in place against the small of your back. You kiss back for only a few seconds before you’re laughing.

Spencer moves away quickly, taking your wrists into his hands to pull them away from his face. 

“You give up too fast,” you say. 

“I don’t think this is the place for it.” 

“Well, we can’t do it at my place. What if the raccoon sees?” 

“Good point. How about Marina’s, would that be better? We can get dinner at the same time.” 

Hotch feels oddly proud of Spencer’s suave suggestion, but he also has a migraine brewing between his brows. He really doesn’t need the extra paperwork. 

[satoruhour]

geto reaction to you wearing only his shirt

OVERSIZED NEVER LOOKED THIS GOOD

a/n: lore. a lot of lore. i always cannot help but write backstories. ure gonna have to bear w/ me SORRY !!!! based off of this drawing that i wanted to write sum about but then i thought why not combine it w/ this prompt. i went a little insane on this mb / tagging @papersirens @crysugu @getousex @hyomagiri @slttygeto, who else r geto fuckers

wc: 2.9k

warnings: roommate!geto, soft dom!geto, mutual pining, reader steals one of geto’s shirts, geto is also a little bit of a pervert, mentions of panty sniffing but geto doesn’t do it, m! and f! masturbation, fingering, clit stimulation, oral / cunnilingus, slight nipple play, spitting (on ur pussy), finger sucking, p -> v sex, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

geto was a sweet roommate.

he’s always topping up on supplies when you needed things, pushing away your hand whenever you wanted to pay. where he got all his money, you weren’t even sure. geto cleaned the house, he cooked dinner, hell, it was like you two were married at this point. even gojo had asked if he would get together with someone who wasn’t you (and of course, in classic gojo way, he was skilled in asking it in a roundabout way), geto’s firm and abrupt “no” was enough to make gojo grin from ear to ear.

even he wasn’t sure when it all started — you were always friends with the three of them, gojo and shoko and himself, participating in their antics and getting in trouble in high school. there was hardly any dull times between the four, looking at you through the lens of a friend. but when those lens started to turn blurry and black, seeing you in a new light of tighter outfits and a sweet smile that looked like it contained something hidden, suguru genuinely hoped it would all go away.

it’s not like he thought he was unattractive, but you wouldn’t go for a guy like him, someone hidden behind gojo’s bright personality or shoko’s satirical, cool demeanour. he was oh so oblivious, however, turning an unintentional blind eye when you’re hanging with gojo for the day but only because you wanted to know what birthday present would be best for him, or having a movie night with shoko only to disregard cher horowitz on the television just to ask if geto would like your new nails and hair.

the two of you were so dense when either of you were hanging with them, going on for so long even after taking a gap year for shoko’s overseas med school attachment. they assumed the two of you would’ve done something then, but it was stagnant, dry, that gojo almost wants to take matters into his own hands; so when you’re begging geto if you could room with him, since he lived near the university you were all attending together,

“suguru, pleasee— i wouldn’t wanna travel for hours on end just for like a two hour lecture.”

shoko smiles, gojo laughs, slinging an arm around you, “help your poor friend out, suguru.”

gojo torments him to no end. he doesn’t regret it one bit when your arms are thrown around his neck in a bear hug in thanks, feeling himself get hard just from the way your breasts press against his chest.

“yeah,” it’s said breathily, softly, “it’s no problem.”

suguru thanked god you hadn’t wanted to move in that very same day, cause all that could be heard throughout the small apartment was him pumping his cock to a polaroid picture of you, calling out your name softly as he came all over the photo of your bright smile. he didn’t need the fan that night, the guilt was enough to burn him alive. and after, he acted like nothing happened, except the many, many times he’d think of taking you on every surface of the house, suffering silently for an entire year as the two of you fell into routine day by day.

today might change, however, when geto hangs the last piece of clothing, something that was hardly a difficult task, but it proved to be the hardest thing to date when he’d spot the bras and underwear lying at the bottom of the basket each time he prepared to do laundry. geto wills himself to wash, hang it, and get out but he cannot tear his eyes away from the unmistakable dark spot at the centre of your panties before it’s thrown in, taunting him to just pick it up to breathe in your scent, to do something to defile it, to let his desires take over. but he wasn’t gojo, no, he’d wait all the time in the world for the right time, even if it was at the expense of a throbbing cock and flushed cheeks.

“(y/n), ’m going to the store, you want…” his voice trails off when the drawer before him shows only one clean shirt left, sighing when his favourite shirt has gone missing, again. he knows it simply by the missing tag on the top, cut off terribly by your hands on a drunk movie night. he was thankful you missed his skin by an inch, but he cherishes that shirt and night dearly. geto simply brushes off the mishap, grabbing a sweatshirt instead.

there’s a rap on your door that quells all movement from your side, fabric clutched tightly between your fingers that it hurt just a little.

“(y/n)? love? you okay?”

“y— yeah, i’m fine sugu. what did you say earlier?”

“i’m going to the store. it’s grocery day so i’ll be there for a while — need to stock the fridge up for the week. you want anything?”

geto wishes so desperately to see your face now, asking if you could go and holding a reusable bag by your side, but strangely you don’t even make a move to open the door.

“no it’s fine, and okay! i’m— uh, busy with something,” you look towards the door and back to the article of clothing in your hand, “so i’m sorry i can’t help today.”

geto’s disappointment is brief, but he recovers as soon as he hears your apology, in that sweet, honeyed voice you love to use on him, as oblivious as you were of its effect.

“’s fine, see you later!” there’s a weird and panicky bout of feeling geto gets, but he’s satisfied with the hum you sound through the door. and once the door clicks behind him, you’re unlocking your own door softly, ensuring your surroundings are safe.

geto wasn’t the only one. between your fingers were his favourite shirt, straight from the dirty laundry of last week’s load; it’s been a reoccuring thing these few weeks after realising you maybe want geto to fuck you silly. you’re sneaking around undetected with it, holding it to your nose, breathing in his natural musk. it was the one shirt you liked on him — always put on when with you — it’s like your secret little joke from that night. and it was so sinful, the way your breath hitches from just his scent, the way your panties pool with arousal.

what would it be like to actually wear it?

the thought crosses your mind and leaves just as fast, heart pounding in your chest when you realise you’ve never tried that before.

peeling off your top, you slip it on carefully, swallowing from how much larger he is than you. the sleeves extend past your elbows by a little, so much cloth on you that you’re a little lightheaded by the possibility of being geto’s, belonging to geto.

“oh god…” you sigh, feeling your pussy throb at the thought, and your hands are shy when they creep in between your thighs. they rub at your clit gently, imagining geto was doing the work instead. he’d be so gentle with his hands, cupping your thighs, spreading your legs.

you’re whining when your fingers find your way into your cunt, nose filled with the scent of geto and head filling with the repeated runnings of his tongue on you, his cock in you, his whole person devoted to you. it’s cute how you don’t know that’s already the case. your fingers are lacklustre as you pump them in and out while your other hand is busy with your clit and you look like a goddess: spread out on your bed in nothing but your roommate’s shirt, a soft, slow melody playing from your phone.

you’re so entranced by the sensations you don’t hear the front door opening and the rustle of the plastic bags (he forgot the reusable bags) containing your groceries, distracted by the phone call he’s having with gojo who teases him through the line. his best friend says stupid crap like she’s definitely into you, too. what her panties smell like? have you guys fucked yet?

the last two was enough for geto to whisper a soft satoru!, clearly displeased with the way he was asking about you, about you both that he only rolls his eyes, muttering an annoyed “i’m hanging up, you pervert. i’ll talk to you later—”

setting down the bags, he frowns again upon seeing the closed door, although not as closed you thought you left it.

“suguru— f-fuck, right there—” geto chokes on his saliva at the moans coming from behind the door, careful not to step on the wrong floorboard below him as he lines up with your room door — a terrifying feat rewarded by your needy whines begging for him. he can hear the wetness of his roommate’s cunt, and he wants to take a peak so bad; so he does just that and stiflies a groan at the sight.

your hair is splayed out all around you, pussy facing the entrance of the door just perfectly and his shirt draped over your body. it sends him into a frenzy, head reeling at seeing his shirt so oversized and so perfect over your body that he swears he cums a little at the display. your cute face scrunched up in pure pleasure, your toes curling around the bedsheets he changed for you.

oh, shit.

and geto panics when your head shoots up, eyes meeting his and your hands halting.

fuck, did i say that out loud?

you’re speechless although your reflexes cause you to close your legs immediately, scooting up the bed like you’ve just got cornered by a predator. it was similar — geto with his big, brooding self, moving slowly into the room with both hands up and a dazed look behind his eyes, you, exposed in the eyes of a hungry man who’s craved you for so many months. you like it.

“you’re— you’re wearing my shirt,” geto gulps, causing you to let out a nervous laugh.

“yea— yeah…”

geto thinks that maybe this is it. this was the moment he’s been holding back on for so long, and so he crosses that boundary into your space, stopping right at the footboard of the bed. you follow suit, going onto your hands and knees and crawling to him that he tilts his head back. everything you do drives him crazy.

suguru’s words is heavy, “you think you’re cute, hm? stealing my shirt and then moaning out my name and fingering your pussy like that…”

your breath shakes, ascending to your knees so you’d reach his height, but not quite. he tugs you closer to him.

“yeah.” it’s so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it, “been wanting you for a long time.”

your roommate hums, lips hovering over yours just by an inch. you’d probably pass out if not for your racing heart and pulsating core.

“yeah?”

you’re finished with words, resorting only to a shy nod before geto crashes his lips onto yours, wrapping the other arm around you as yours go around his neck. it’s messy, filled with drool, devouring you on the spot for teasing him for so long, mouths moving in sync with each other. there’s a soft moan that escapes your mouth when you feel him manhandle you with ease, picking you off the bed to set you down on your back gently.

“c’mon, let’s see the mess you made,” you mewl at the words but your legs are stubborn, still in disbelief at the way suguru treats you, but you let him pry your legs apart after some gentle praises. you stifle a smile when you see how geto exhales at how beautiful your pussy is, leaking from your hole while your puffy clit is begging to be touched.

“oh, she’s so fuckin’ pretty…” your roommate mumbles, intoxicated on your scent as he bends down, giving your cunt one last loving look before he looks to you with a small grin. it’s clear he cannot wait, but he pauses for the words he wants to hear.

“wan’ you to eat me out, sugu,” you’re mumbling and suguru thinks it’s so cute, only responding by giving you a peck on your inner thigh, a soft yeah? before he goes down on you.

geto’s tongue on you is slow and cautious, drawing languid circles around your clit as he plays with your thighs, moaning softly into your core.

“s’damn sweet,” you can feel the stretch of a smile before he resumes, drawing you in slowly with each lick, each suck. geto doesn’t let your arousal go to waste, using a finger to scoop up your juices before he rubs the area around your hole and then the first push into your pussy makes you let out a loud, wanton moan.

“oh— your fingers, sugu, they’re—” they’re so much thicker and longer, everything that you couldn’t feel before now feels too much and yet your cunt gives him his answer by clenching around his longer finger.

“better than yours?” he asks with a lopsided smile.

you huff in indignance — not your fault you had shorter fingers, “yeah.”

“i’ll make full use of ’em, baby,” geto gasps softly when he pushes his finger right to the hilt, obsessed with the way your hand closes around his wrist. “too much?”

you shake your head, “n-no, just— feels too good.”

your roommate laughs softly, “princess is just too sensitive.”

he’s tempted to chuckle again when he sees how the pet names affect you, but soon he’s adding a second finger and pushes in, moving at a slow speed. and then when he adds his mouth into the mix, you’re begging for him to hurry; his eyes flutter close, getting lost in everything that you dish out.

geto’s pace is routine like his life, but it’s not any less pleasurable as he curls his fingers upwards, stretching you out and hitting your spot repeatedly. he continually flicks his tongue and sucks and slurps, tasting your essence once and needing a second, third, fourth, umpteenth taste, bringing out the most delicious moans to fall from your lips. it’s like hearing aphrodite sing, and yet you cross her by miles both in beauty and voice. surely, he shouldn’t mention that out loud, but eros can’t possibly help the arrow puncturing his heart, and looking at his psyche now, he thinks you look absolutely flawless.

“f-feel so good, mmh— so deep, suguru—!” his eyes snap open to look at you with hooded lids, sending you a cheeky wink before he starts to suck on your bundle of nerves, keeping his mouth latched around it as his fingers speed up. the noises of your cunt sucking him in paired with your whines just sound so good, and the scent of his shirt is dizzying, pulling it higher and higher till it pools around your chest. you watch as geto pulls away for a second, gathering saliva in his throat before he spits on your pussy, and the action is so lewd your jaw drops and your hips start to hump against him. 

“ya like that? filthy girl,” geto smiles, rubbing his thumb into your clit and there’s that distinctive build-up in your stomach, coiling and burning until lays his tongue flat onto your cunt, pressing it deep along with the fingers that curl up in your pussy.

“su—” you don’t even have time to tell him, cumming all over his fingers and soaking the sheets, flustered at the in-awe look geto has on his face at how the shirt had ridden up, at how your hands cup your tits and play with your nipples, at how your cunt gushes so sweetly for him. he continues to pump his fingers to let you ride out your orgasm, relishing in the whine you let out when he removes his fingers.

“patience, sweetheart,” geto moves up to reach you, fingers waiting inches away from your lips. you’re taking his fingers into your mouth, keeping eye contact as you wrap your tongue around them and sucking your cum off of him, swearing lowly when you grab his wrist and shove them deeper. “but then again, we’ve been dancing around each other for too long, now.”

you smile at his allusion to the many times that the what-ifs could’ve come true, and yet now you’re tangled up like this in his shirt.

once geto’s underwear comes off, you’re gaping at the cock that he pumps, clearly looking intimidating enough that geto has a hand to your knee and kisses it gently. “we’ll make it fit, alright?”

you nod a little timidly, taking his hand off and twining your fingers, “yeah, i trust you to take care of me.” you make a quick move to remove his shirt but he stops you, saying something embarrassing about wanting to see how cute and small you look in his shirt. you’re scoffing and pushing at him later, you’re just too tall.

he takes care of you perfectly fine — when geto fully sheathes himself in you, he can only focus on your gummy walls that wrap around him fully, his eyes are rolling to the back of his head and you’re grasping at his hands that grab your hips so hard. your roommate fucks you so well, your body limp and your pussy begging to milk him dry that it spills out so much — geto groans into your neck with reddened cheeks at that later.

you’re receiving a noise warning the very next day, alongside a QR code that takes you to a link for soundproof foam, and all you can do is laugh at each other. like routine, geto is already gathering the ingredients for an apology cake, beside him right in that little kitchen in another shirt of his that starts to smell more and more like you—

as his roommate and maybe now, something more.

part two ♡