#and then i have to start thinking about his clothes bc where the fuck am i going to buy tartaglia clothes that'll actually fit

[moe-broey]

My homunculus

Hashtag my homunculus

[luveline]

hey love! first of all: i have to admit i started watching criminal minds for the first time earlier this year only bc of your spencer fics! can we get more stripper!reader and spencer? love your writing!!!

thank you!! It’s a slow routine. You begin in a crouch in your underwear, just like at the club. Chest to your knees, arms twisted with the backs of your hands touching. But, unlike at the club, this underwear is comfortable. There’s nobody watching, and you won’t make any tips. You don’t have a pole nor a stage. 

You run through the routine but forgo any pole tricks. You stretch for long, slow minutes, dancing from one space to another. The music in your head isn’t anything you’d play at home, but it works to keep time. You end on your knees again. 

It’s not fun. 

You stretch toward your phone and pick it up. Spencer’s texted you twice in the ten minutes you weren’t on it. 

Hi gorgeous, the first begins, do you want to sleep over? I can make you dinner. 

The second, Sorry, I don’t think I’ve ever called you gorgeous before, is that weird? Please come over and pretend I didn’t say that if it was weird

A third pops up while you’re reading. Can I come get you? 

You text him back with pleasure. He’s the only guy in your life who talks to you just to talk, without thinking he could fuck you if he says enough right things, even though he has fucked you. Hi babe you can call me anything it’s not weird, I’ll come over! Not working this week, maybe I can stay two days(?) let me know so I can pack enough clothes 

You can stay all week, if you want to. I miss you 

You imagine him holding his phone, his cheeks pink with blush. 

I miss you too, you text back. 

Just bring what you want to and we can work it out later

Working it out later could mean anything with Spencer. He’s silly enough to try and put you in his clothes, and generous enough to take you shopping if it saves the time it takes to drive you home. 

You’ve packed a bag of clothes and shower things when your phone rings. Spencer’s contact photo covers the whole screen, the two of you together with your face cut out, his smile wide. You were both a teeny bit tipsy. 

“Hello?” you answer, bringing the phone to your ear. 

“Hi!” He sounds nervous. “I’m outside. Am I gonna get towed?” 

“Not if you stay in the car. I’m on my way down right now.” 

“Okay, see you in a second,” he says. 

He never looks comfortable behind a steering wheel. You aren’t sure why he doesn’t sell his car, maybe because it’s dirt cheap to maintain. He never seems happy to be driving is all. 

He smiles when you approach his door, which is better. He rolls down the window. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. You bend at the knees to see him better. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“I had a weird feeling about you, like you weren’t alright.” 

You lean down further. “I’m okay.” 

He grins. You’re waiting for a kiss he doesn’t give, finding yourself a subject for his staring, completely still as his gaze follows around your face. He makes no move to kiss you, and for a moment insecurity blossoms. 

“Well, you look okay. Are you getting in? It’s cold,” he says, nodding toward the passenger side.

“No help with my bags?” you ask, closing the door when he tries to open it. “Kidding.” 

You round the hood and climb inside. Then Spencer kisses you, polite but emphatic, one on your lips and another just under your jaw as he squeezes your shoulder. You feed into them lovingly.

“Maybe you can stay at my place forever? That way I can stop missing you all the time,” he says, pulling away slowly. 

“And when the mystery is gone?” you ask. 

“I don’t want mystery with you.” 

Spencer takes your bag from your lap and shoves it into the back seat. You drop the smaller one on your shoes. 

“Do you wanna get pizza or something?” he asks. 

You hold your jaw where he’d kissed you. “Sure,” you say, tingles of his kiss lingering under your hand. 

“Or Chinese? What do you want?” 

You want more kisses, but you love that he always gives you options. “Pizza for sure. Curly fries, too. Hold my hand?” 

Spencer takes it with gusto over the gearstick, and whatever felt like it was missing earlier fills itself in. “Wait,” you say softly, before he can take the car out of park, “just…” You grab his side and drag him toward you for a hug. Holding hands wasn’t gonna be enough —Spencer doesn’t know it yet, but you love him, love how safe he makes you feel, love how fun he makes your life. You can be yourself with him, no matter who that really is.

Spencer holds you, his hand across your shoulder blade rubbing soft lines. 

[two-white-butterflies]

love by listening | daemon targaryen

Description: Daemon Targaryen goes rogue after his wedding to Lady Rhea Royce, unwilling to consummate the marriage. He finds peace in a Dornish tavern. You meet him in said tavern, and quickly become close friends. You share an adventure. Both unaware that the other person is nobility.

graphics from @saradika-graphics

Pairing: princess of dorne!reader/daemon targaryen

Warning: brief making love (not sex, making love)

A/N: I wanted it to give Dunk and Egg vibes. Reader is bubbly and talkative/has her own ambitions. She does what she wants bcs she's all about that high life. Set in Dorne + young daemon targaryen. open ending.

Daemon didn't believe in gods. He doesn't care about the punishment he'll be given after this. A few hours ago, he was forced to go through the wedding with Lady Rhea Royce. In his opinion, she was not an attractive bride. She was lucky to have come from nobility for she had a basic peasant bitch face.

Despite her odd looks, benevolent Daemon still went through with the marriage. He held his tongue, wanted to make his brother proud - but then they started talking about the bedding ceremony, and Daemon knew that he had to get the hell away from there.

Where did that bring him?

To Caraxes, to flying towards Dorne - and drinking inside of a tavern.

"It's the first time I've seen a foreigner in these parts." your voice breaks him free from his thoughts. He was about to swat you away, but a single look at your face changed his mind.

Beautiful.

There were a lot of pretty maidens in Dorne - but you were one of the most beautiful ones so far. "I did not bring any gold." he warned, under the impression that you were a whore. "Gods, I have no intention of fucking you." you lied, quickly sitting beside him.

"The first time I saw a cock. It was disgusting. I actually vowed to only fuck women after that." you smiled at the memory. Reaching for his ale, and taking a drink of it. "- I suppose I never upheld that promise. Women are beautiful but we are too wet for my taste. Men are just lovely and dry, and they are easier to toy with." you giggle.

He could smell the alcohol on your breath.

You were the first maiden he's seen to speak in that manner. He wonders if the maidens back home are like this too, if it weren't for archaic beliefs silencing their true thoughts. Dorne was a magical fucking place. It was how the rest of the six kingdoms needed to be.

"Why are you talking to me?" he asks, his face stoic just in case you had some tricks up your sleeve.

"Well, you are alone." you pointed out. "- and I am alone. Shouldn't two vagabonds protect each other?" you tilted your head.

"What makes you think that I am alone?" he inquires.

"I've been watching you for quite some time now, love. Are you going to give me your name?" you asked in return, continuing to stare deep into his purple eyes - drawing him closer like a siren to the waves. "I'd like to remain an enigma." he answers, matching your mysteriousness.

He finds himself hypnotized by your eyes. Eyes that were lined with kohl. "I won't share my name too, to be fair." you smiled, and now his attention was drawn towards your lips. Stained red with rouge.

The tension between you was palpable. He felt like a moth to a flame. Allured by this beautiful fire. Leaving only one question in his head: will he burn? Fire cannot harm a dragon. He reminds.

His hands reached for the small of your waist. A sudden boldness. He plays with the textured embroidery of your tunic. Pulling you closer to his body, until you were almost sitting on his lap.

"What will I call you?" he frowned, teasing you.

"Think of something witty." you insisted, fingers dancing along the details of his clothed tunic.

"Gevives, then." he settles on a suitable name. "I am relieved that you find me beautiful, love." you laugh, hands trailing upwards to his collar - pulling him closer until your lips were bridged together.

He melts into the kiss, hands firmly wrapped around your waist. He'd be so easy to poison. But alas, you weren't here to kill him.

He presses you against your bed - the first time he's felt lust in a while. If this was going to be a one-time thing, then he'll be thinking about you until the day he died. He's already placed this encounter in his three best fucks. The way that you looked beneath him, he can almost see himself thirty years later still jerking off to you.

You are fucking beautiful.

Naked - and vulnerable against him.

His hands danced along the curve of your waist, delighted at the smoothness of your skin. You reach for his face, cupping his cheek tenderly - staring at him with fascination. "You are so beautiful, like an illusion." you whispered in a voice that makes him want to sleep.

He positions his member at the entrance of your core.

"So good," you cooed - feeling him begin to thrust. You continued staring at each other, that connection remained unbreakable. "Keep going," you whispered, he couldn't help but smile. So talkative, even when making sweet love. "Gevie," he smiles.

Daemon wakes up to the feeling of light on his exposed skin. He lets out a yawn, rubbing his eyes so it adjusts to the brightness of the room quicker. He takes a deep breath - as he remembers what happened last night.

Last night, he fucked a goddess.

He turns to look at your sleeping form.

Beautiful even when sleeping, he thought.

He was thankful that he commanded Caraxes to return to the Red Keep.

He had no responsibility. None but you.

"Good morrow," you greeted, voice still hoarse from last night. "Good morrow," he responds, wrapping his arms around your waist. This type of touch was foreign to him. He's never wrapped his arms around someone after making love.

It felt domestic. Like how marriage was supposed to be.

"I suppose this is where our paths diverge." he says, unwilling to sound needy. But in actuality, he never wants to leave. He wants to stay like this forever. Inside of an inn, with his arms wrapped around the most beautiful woman in the world.

"Not so soon. I think we should still walk together." you hum, pulling him closer to your body until he was laying on your chest.

"I've made the observation that you have a lot of time on your hands." you breathed, his ears pressed against your chest - listening to your heartbeat.

"Your observation is correct." he confirms.

He had the face of a dangerous man. It was a risk to be in a stranger's company, but your heart told you that he could be trusted. He felt like you - exactly like you.

You kept staring at his body. His toned muscles and broad shoulder. "Are you a knight?" you asked, reminded of the tourney in Starfall.

"I am," he answers truthfully, praying that it was something that you liked about men.

"There is a tournament in Starfall. The prize is a dragon egg." you informed, mind already focused towards the next adventure.

"I shall win a dragon egg for you, then." he announces. He finds no harm in having a little adventure with a maiden. He has won all the tourneys he's attended, after all. "Really? I wanted to steal it." you say.

He responds with a chuckle, pushing a strand of your hair away from your face. How dare you steal his heart. "Why steal it when you can have it fair and square?" he asked teasingly.

You continued staring at his face, a look that was indescribable. "I like the sound of that," you smile - pressing a kiss to his jaw.

Ashara's lips pressed into a thin line. "What god has possessed you to bring a man inside of Starfall?" she scolded, leading you and Daemon towards a secluded part of the tourney. "He is my paramour." you announce, your grip remains firm on his hand.

"Your father will kill him." she says plainly. "- a Targaryen bastard, a scandal waiting to emerge." she scoffs.

Daemon's expression softens, quickly turning into amusement.

Do they all believe me to be a bastard? Apologies, I am legitimate, he thinks, but he decides to bite those words back, lest he be sent back to the Red Keep.

"I did not come here as my father's daughter. I came here under a disguise." you reminded, pulling the grey hood up until it was hiding your face. "You shouldn't have come here, anyways. You'll get me into trouble with mine own father." she glared at you.

"I'm sorry Ashara but we won't be bothering you. We merely want to join the tourney and win the dragon-egg." you say out loud, but she silences you with a finger to your lips.

"The prize remains a mystery to those in the audience. Only the competitors truly know. The Targaryens will be furious, we will be answered with fire and blood." Ashara reminds and you nod silently.

"- I'm sorry, I'll stay out of your way. I promise. Now, can you please lead us to the tents?" you ask and the other woman nods, pointing at the white tents in the far distance.

"Thank you," you smile politely - still holding his hand and dragging him to the direction of the other knights.

You paid a squire a decent amount of money to use their armor. Daemon was quick to wear it, but he still missed his sword. The Dark Sister, previously wielded by Queen Visenya. "I've never fought against this much Dornish men before." he breathes.

He had his experience fighting a few of them. They were good warriors, though not good enough to defeat him. "We fight like rattlesnakes, that's what my father always says." you say, placing the last piece of his armor on his body.

"You haven't been here for that long, huh?" you made another observation, and he nods. Though he still keeps his identity a secret.

"I grew up in Kingslanding. My mother died giving birth, and my father died of a burst belly." he chuckles - laughing his sorrows away.

"Prince Baelon is your father." you say with certainty, piecing the information together. "- he would've made a wonderful King." you add, basing off the stories that your father shared.

"I think it is your turn to speak about your past, gevives. And I've spent enough time around you to understand that you aren't lowborn." he urges while adjusting his straps.

"How did you come to that understanding?" you inquired, curious of his way of thinking.

His hands danced along your exposed arm.

"Your skin is smooth like silk." he says, like he was praying. His hands trailed upwards, until his fingers were on your chin. "- and you take good care of your beauty." he finishes - and he stops touching you.

"My father is a nobleman. I am his youngest child, the only daughter after six boys. Which means that I've been exposed to leeches using me ever since I was born. I ran away from them. I can't trust anyone, but I think I can trust you." you reveal pieces of your past to him, unwilling to give him the full information.

He was the first person that called you beautiful without knowledge of your vast fortune. And now he was here, promising to win a tourney just so you'd see a dragon-egg for the first time.

"Six brothers, like the princess of dorne." he teases.

"Mhm," you hummed - freezing.

"Ser, get ready." a squire peeks his head through the tent. Daemon stands up, and offers his hand for you take - helping you stand up.

"Thank you," you smile, regaining your composure.

"I promise to win, my lady." he places a kiss on the back of your hand.

Daemon won the tourney with ease, any knight that dared to fight against him didn't even last five minutes. All of his fights ended the same. He'd strike them down, the opponent would be on the ground and Daemon would only look to the next competitor.

You continued watching him.

Observing every little thing that he's doing. It was evident that there was a piece of the puzzle that you haven't solved yet. A knight as skilled as him should be renowned, and yet the only information you have on him - is that he is the bastard son of Prince Baelon.

He was an interesting mystery.

"The winner of our tourney, Ser..." Ashara rises, only beginning to realize that none of them knew the name of this skilled knight. Your best friend turns to look at you, but you answer with a shrug. It was a little game between you and Daemon - neither one knowing that the other one's real name is.

"Ser Daemon," he opened his mouth - meeting your gaze.

He added the last piece of the puzzle, and your face was struck with eureka. Prince Daemon Targaryen, you thought immediately. "Congratulations, Ser Daemon. Please claim your prize behind the tents." Ashara nodded.

"The audience was complaining, the tourney wasn't entertaining for them." you open the conversation, stepping foot inside of the tent. "I suppose it isn't entertaining when only one person wins." you smirk.

He holds the dragon-egg in his hands. "I promised that I'd win." he answers, patting the empty space beside him. "Here's your dragon-egg, my lady." he chuckles. You gladly sit beside him, laying your head on his shoulder and marveling at the beauty of the egg.

"You are Prince Daemon Targaryen." you announced, confirming your previous suspicions. "I am," he finds himself unable to lie.

"- I think it is only fair that I know your name too, my lady." he adds.

An amused smile paints your lips.

"I am Princess (Your Name) Martell. I can't believe that we meet under these circumstances." you laugh.

A prince and a princess meeting inside of a tavern instead of a castle. Even beginning to fall in love without the pressure of their respective kingdoms. It was something out of a fable.

Daemon reaches for your hand, placing it on top of the dragon-egg. "It is an honor to meet you, my princess." he acknowledges.

[dwaekkicidal]

pussyplay with channie????? like taping and slapping??? oh god

this plagued me since the second i saw it earlier today so i had to write something for it or else i'd explode.

edit; i was rereading this and realized that you mightve meant taping as in (tape) and not tapping LMFAO if thats what u wanted lmk and i’ll write you something for that bc i lowkey find that hot😭♥️

~700 words | warnings: fingering (f receiving), pussy slaps/taps, generally mean dom chris icl..., exhibitionism

god Chris and pussy slaps are so MMMMMMMM👹 he's the type to do softer slaps just to tease but hard slaps as a punishment for you misbehaving and/or moving around too much. unless its a day where he's pissed off for whatever reason and you give him the ok to use you. then you're really in for it.

❥ let's say that something went wrong at the studio earlier today; maybe one of his files corrupted and he lost hours worth of progress. i lowkey think he'd be the type to be so angry that he would cry bc he admitted to having anger issues lmao but after that, he's coming home and walking in the door in pure silence. maybe slamming doors subconsciously and/or setting things down aggressively.

❥ and, being the good little toy you are, you pull him into the bedroom and give him the option to either [A] talk about it with you or [B] fuck his anger out using you <3 and who is he to deny that good of an ultimatum???

❥ so he'll get all rough and pin you down to the bed >< almost ripping your clothes as he takes them off. or- better yet, if you have nothing but his shirt on then he's simply pushing your panties to the side. he'll force a few fingers down your throat to wet them and then shove two right into your cunt

❥ he'll finger you soooo meanly and the second you start to squirm too much for his liking or the second your legs try to close, one of those pretty, veiny hands are coming down on your clit >< he might even pull his wet fingers out to slap them across your folds too before plunging them back in

THIS JUST CAME TO MIND BUT IF HE'S ANGRY HE'S DEFINITELY THE TYPE TO SAY SHIT LIKE "This greedy fucking pussy. So tight and can't fit all my fingers in it." *whack* "What am I gonna do with you."

❥ but he's not a complete sadist though, so he'll rub over the area a few times as an apology and maybe give you a kiss or two there. but that's all you're getting <3 because this is about him and for once in his life he's allowing himself to be greedy (🔫), so he's gonna sit there for as long as it takes for his anger to subside (not long but he can and will pretend to be angry just to keep going)

the first way i thought of him tapping your pussy is through your panties ><

❥ maybe you're at an event with him or you're out at dinner with him and the boys. maybe you're just a liiiittle more bratty than usual for whatever reason, maybe you were being rude/a brat the entire way there and now that everyone is sat, you just can't seem to keep your hands to yourself. so when it's <15 minutes into dinner, the appetizers haven't even arrived yet, and he already feels your hands on his thigh? his patience is thrown out the window.

❥ even more so when that hand moves right over the semi-hardon in his jeans and rubs it ever so lightly. then you're stealing his hand and sliding it under the table, to everybody else it looks like you guys are holding hands but trying to do so secretly, so if somebody notices they just smile and wiggle their eyebrows at the "PDA."

❥ but in reality you're sliding that hand between your parting thighs and placing your hand over his, basically instructing him to rub over your pussy through your already thin panties. and those thin panties that seem even thinner by the way your wetness seeps through.

❥ he'll shove his tongue into the skin of his cheek, squeeze his legs together to relieve some tension, and then he's swatting your hand away. he'll spread your folds through the fabric just to tap against your clit meanly. he wont even rub it or give it any other sort of attention; just tapping it softly sometimes then roughly the other. the rough ones make you actually jump/shiver and some of the guys catch on, but he'll just say you're cold.

❥ then he's not stopping until you start to make some noise, either if whines start to come out of your throat or if your breaths turn into low moans. at that point, he'll pat you a singular time and remove his hands. he'll act like nothing happened the rest of the night... until you get home c;

[slamminslamminmcgill]

all im saying is ✨Logan with a knot✨ and Wade overstimulating you bc you cant get away -🦐

shrimp anon more like shrimp COLORS bro your vision is INSANE!!!!!!

soooo idk conventional a/b/o rules and i kinda don't care so im picturing a heat cycle as once a month endeavour. and bc you're on T you're a HORNY motherfucker and you're angry and violent so it's basically whoever can get their hands on you or knot in you first will take care of you. then as long as you get bred at least once you're fine. then you calm down and it's big aftercare hours bc your post-heat clarity endorphins are going CRAZY

now since your heat only comes once a month, wade treats it as a special occasion. and it wouldn't be fair of him to do the honors EVERY month, now would it?

so even though he's home with you, and logan's not, and won't be for a while, wade wilson will refuse to fuck you. it's not his turn. he did it last month.

and your heat is MISERABLE. imagine the worst period cramp you ever had, combined with hot flashes, searing rage, and it gives your cunt the sensitivity of a fucking bear trap. you'll clamp down on anything that touches you.

so no matter how much you suffer. no matter if you scream, cry, beg, grovel, bite, or commit acts of gratuitous violence against him.

he will hold out.

he will hold out until logan gets home and finds you naked, cuffed to the bed by your hands and ankles, a chewy ball-gag in your mouth getting crushed by your gritting teeth, and wade's holding a wand vibrator to your cunt.

he waves gayly at logan, "hey pinkie pie, merry christmas! wanna come open your gift?"

"jesus christ, are you fucking torturing him?! the hell is wrong with you?!"

"with ME?! where's your holiday spirit?"

logan just stares at him blankly, puzzled by what this psychotic dipshit could possibly be talking about. in response, and in the spirit of the season, wade sings him a song.

"🎼it's the mooost wonderful tiiiiime, of the mooonth~!🎵"

now he gets it.

"oh... okay. so then why did you tie him down like that?"

"well, we had a little INCIDENT earlier..."

--

you had managed to grab one of wade's guns and shot him in the chest

"OW!!! you RESOURCEFUL little shit!!! GRRR, oh~ mysweetboybabydarling i'msoproudofyou, butnoi'mnot, BAD BOY!!!"

--

"no, i mean why didn't you take care of him your-fucking-self, wilson? you really gotta make this my problem as soon as i walk in the fuckin' door?"

"your PROBLEM?! i hand you some prime-time, limited-edition, hot and bothered, ripe for the breeding, tranny boy BUSSY on a silver platter, and that's somehow NOT where your dick wants to spend its evening? am i hearing that right? please tell me i'm not. please tell me you're not this stupid, pookie bear."

instead of arguing back, logan goes quiet. he's thinking. and then, he laughs. that low, husky laugh that you have when you're marveling at the nerve of whatever dumb motherfucker is talking to you. or maybe, when that dumb motherfucker is making a point.

"heh... y'know what? fine." logan angrily strips his clothes off, one by one. his tanktop, "you want me to be the one to knot him? huh?" his belt, his jeans "can't do anything yourself, can ya?" and lastly, his boxers. then he grabs his cock and shakes it at wade.

"so then get me hard, you faggot." he clicks his tongue twice. "c'mon."

wade throws himself at logan's knees and gives him that gawkgawk4000turbotyphoon treatment to get him up. logan sighs in relaxation, grateful that wade was putting his mouth to such better use. once his eyes flutter open, he nods at you, finally giving you even a modicum of attention while you're under intense distress, and he merely waves at you nonchalantly, like how a pedestrian does to a car that lets him cross.

"hang tight, bub. be with ya in a second."

wade works him over until his knot is just barely starting to swell. he then takes his fattened cock and slaps wade across the face with it.

"take his chains off."

"hm... are you sure you want me to do that, princess? he's feisty, y'know. might get yourself bit, if you're not careful."

logan slaps wade again, but this time it's a bitchslap, using the back of his hand. and his claws.

"take. his fucking. chains off."

"mmm, right AWAY, your majesty~!"

[juleswritesstuff]

Hello fellow italian!

I don’t really know if you take in requests but i’ll try anyway.

I was thinking jegulus x reader where reader is in a current relationship with james but also has a past with regulus, reader’s being intimate with james when he starts bringing up his worries about thenext quidditch match against slytherin, especially mentioning that regulus is too much of a good seeker to beat. Reader teases james bc he sounds like he has a crush on him but at the same time thinks of a way to arrange a ménage à trois. 😋

Hello to you, and thank you so much for your request 💌

This is my first request ever, and I am not kidding when I tell you I am so nervous I'm literally shaking in my boots. I tried my best and I really hope you like it 💗

jegulus x reader

warnings: suggestive

James’ neck had always been his weakest spot. 

The way he shivered everytime your lips started teasing the sensitive skin of his throat was almost enchanting to see, the low breathy groans that escaped his mouth were pure music to your ears.

He became putty in your hands as soon as your tongue made contact with his flesh.

And yet in that moment, with your hips straddling his, bodies flushed against each other and mouth latched to that spot on his neck you knew made him melt, he was uncharacteristically quiet.

“James” you called softly, head still buried in the gentle curve of his shoulder.

“Mmh” his hands were on your hips, just resting there. No teasing, no fingers traveling everywhere until you were nothing but a bubbling mess on top of him. Every trace of the hungry, playful James he always was when he had you in that close of a proximity was dulled, clouded. 

His body was there, but you weren’t sure you could say the same thing about his mind. Not after that barely audible mumble fell from his lips, anyway.

Something was wrong.

You lifted your head, eyes slightly narrowed and worried, ready to investigate whatever had made your boyfriend so quiet and distant when he was the most vocal guy you had ever met. 

Especially in bed.

“James” you tried again, hand cradling his cheek and gaze searching for his seemingly absent one.

That gentle touch seemed to bring him back to reality.

“Huh ?” he blinked a couple of times with that lost puppy look in those hazel eyes finally focusing on yours.

“You’re rigid” your thumb started to caress his cheek gently, a grin curved your lips “And not in the good kind of way”

Realization seemed to hit him all at once as his eyes trailed over your body still straddling him, clothes all rumpled and eyes glazed.

He groaned.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry, love. I-” his hands left your waist, reaching up to rub his face in what felt like pure frustration “-you’re here on top of me, looking like that and all I can think about is this bloody Quidditch match. I must be going insane”

He sounded so appalled by his self proclaimed lack of sanity that a grin blossomed on your lips. 

He was so cute you wanted to eat him up.

“The one against Slytherin ?” you already knew the answer, but that feeling in your chest told you you should’ve asked anyway.

“Yeah” he exhaled a defeated breath.

The smile on your face turned sweet, reassuring. 

“You’ll do amazing, James” you said on his lips right before placing a light kiss on them “Like you always do”

The hand on your back started to rub slightly, a silent ‘thank you’ for your encouraging words. His face, however, was still morphed in an unconvinced frown.

“It’s just-” his eyes met yours and you could feel every ounce of uncertainty in them “Their team has been great this year, you know ? They have very strong players and a strategy that basically demolished Ravenclaw last time. Their beaters are ruthless, their chasers are as fast as lightning and have one hell of an aim, the keeper is absurdly good at bending at every angle to not let the quaffle even graze the hoop. And Black-” he paused, uncertainty shifting to pure, raw wonder “Merlin, Regulus is brilliant this year. He is quick, and precise, and so damn fast, like- did you see him last time ? He caught the snitch in less than thirty minutes. Thirty. Minutes. That’s gotta be some kind of record, right ? He is so talented it is actually marvelous to witness. It’ll be hard beating him and his outstanding skills, especially with how swift he is on his broom. Have you noticed it becomes like an extension of him when he is on the field ? He has an excellent control of his body and his mind is extremely focused on the game, but his eyes constantly follow the snitch, like the perfect seeker that he is”

“Sounds like you have paid very close attention to him” there was a smirk on your lips, one he couldn’t see with the way your head had returned back to tease his neck.

You could feel his heartbeat stutter right against your knowing grin, blood pumping faster and erratic at your words.

And you couldn’t even blame him in the slightest.

Regulus was, for lack of better words, utterly magnetic. He had an aura that was hard to ignore, luring you in with those raven curls and silver eyes, words sarcastic and aloof, but a mouth so sweet, so addicting that you couldn’t help crave more. 

And you knew it too well.

You knew the feeling of those lips on yours, kissing and worshiping every inch of your body, you knew the touch of his hands, burning and teasing and reverent. And you knew the sensation of his eyes on you, heating your skin, making you shiver with their intensity.

The same passion with which they still looked at you, even after months of ending your little encounters. 

The same fervor with which they looked at James, too.

And James ? Oh, he definitely looked back.

And you did, too.

”He’s on the opposing team, baby. I have to pay attention” his voice trembled as the words rolled out of his mouth, and you honestly didn’t know if it was because you were now biting the sweet spot right below his ear, or because he was clearly lying “For weak spots and, ah-“

Oh, his low moans were delicious music to your ears. 

You couldn’t help your brain wandering to dangerous places. 

Places where the music became a full symphony, accompanied not only by your breathy, needy whimpers harmonizing with his deeper, gruffer ones, but also by a chorus of filthy words and desperate sounds coming from a mouth you were more than familiar with.

“Mmh” your tongue darted out to soothe the bitten skin “Or maybe someone has a little crush”

“What ?” came out of his mouth in breathless disbelief.

You grinned, lips continuing their torturing journey. 

Your hands went to his shirt, all rumpled and misplaced, unbuttoning it slowly, leisurely.

Because there was one thing that James couldn’t help doing while he was lost in pleasure. 

Speaking his mind without veils.

Usually that led to some of the lewdest things your ears had ever been graced with.

But right in that moment, as your fingers danced on the skin of his sculpted bare chest, traveling down and down slowly, you hoped it would lead to some other kind of truth.

One where he got rid of all his inhibitions and finally allowed himself to admit his desires.

You weren’t blind, nor stupid, and the way James looked at both you and Regulus with that same fire in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

“Isn’t he beautiful ?” you asked, mouth slotting with his in a filthy dance of lips and tongues.

“Y/n” he grunted, sounding more pleading and desperate rather than annoyed.

The way his body reacted told you everything you needed to know.

“Come on” you bit his lower lip, feeling the plump flesh between your teeth “It's just an innocent question”

“Is it ?” his hands on your waist tightened, making you hiss at the way his fingers were burning on your skin.

"Absolutely” you whispered right on his mouth, hips gaining a life of their own and starting to move right over his crotch.

The grunt he let out went straight to your core.

“Liar” he said with a grin on his lips, not buying your fake coyness even for a minute.

He saw right through you. 

But you saw right through him, too. 

James wore his heart on his sleeve.

“Answer me, Jamie” you whispered in his ear, your hips rolling on his in a sultry, sensual rhythm. 

Wanting him to fall apart under your touch. Wanting him to let go. 

Your hands buried in his hair, tugging lightly and eliciting a deep moan from his kissed bruised mouth.

“Isn't Regulus gorgeous ?” 

Your hips moved faster, erratic and filthy and determined to make him see stars.

His head tilted back in pleasure, hands gripping your waist for dear life.

And, finally, all his walls crumbled.

“Fuck, fuck- yes. Yes, he is. He is- holy shit. And you are, too. You are. You both are. And I really need you right now or I'll literally combust on the spot”

He barely made it to the last word before your lips were on his once again. 

There wasn't much talking after that, both your mouths way too busy in other more pleasurable activities.

But that didn't mean the gears of your brain had stopped turning.

Oh, no. They were working even faster, picturing some of the filthiest things you had ever thought about.

Scenarios that involved an empty quidditch changing room, a running shower and two very sweaty, very handsome boys with adrenaline still filling their veins and fire burning in their eyes.

Yeah, you could have definitely worked with that.

Might do a part two with a little bit of...spice 😏

Ps: I absolutely take requests <3, so feel free to send me your ideas and I'll try to fulfill them the best I can. It might take a while to write them though because uni is currently killing me 😀.

[starboye]

Kinktober Day 15

starring: bellamy blake x male reader

request: bellamy blake x thick fem boy reader, where everyone is having a party with drinking and dancing, and bellamy see reader dancing with other men and they keep grabbing his big ass bc it’s so big. so bellamy takes reader away and fucks that ass (also some face sitting 😏)

warnings: smut, cursing, rough sex, face sitting, mentions of alcohol, grinding, ass grabbing, ass slapping, cum eating, unprotected sex, creampie, femboy!reader

directors cut: hey frien- oop did you do something different with your hair, or is it a new skincare routine because your skin is glowing, am i buttering you up to make you forget about the fact im behind on these kinktober stories.... obvi no why would i ever do such a thing... was it working though

you were irresistible, the way you danced with everyone else had bellamy thinking thoughts that should not be heard by anyone let alone you, but he couldn't control his find with the way you dressed, your shorts riding up your ass which left little to nothing to imagination.

and damn did he love the way you moved your body around the campfire, bottle of alcohol in hand, taking messy swigs from it from time to time, but what instantly ruined the mood was when some random dude came up behind you and started touching up on you.

that should be him so why does this fuck bag get to grab on your ass and may i say luscious thighs, he was getting way to close for comfort also, he was basically fucking you through his clothes, seeing as this didn't sit right with bellamy he walked over and snatched you away from the party and dragged you to a nearby tent.

"bellamyyyy what the fuck i was just having fu-" your cut off by his lips crashing against your and him taking off your tight shorts to reveal your wobbly ass, it was like putty in his hands or like a water balloon with the way it jiggled in his hands "you gonna just stand there and look or are y'gonna get to work" bellamy smirked and you got to work in taking off his shirt and yours but struggled with his pants.

those goddamn buttons were so hard to get off it was annoying both of you so bellamy just opted to keep them on and unzip them to slide his cock through, and with that the moaning soon began, bellamy fucking you into the ground with hard thrusts, there wasn't much cushioning between the blanket you had under you and the ground so with the hardening thrust so came the hurting back.

"fuck bellamy, go a little softer i am still on the ground" you strain out through thrusts "would you like me to fuck you doggy style till you have no feeling in your legs" bellamy asks roughly with deep grunts making you shake your head no "then shut up" he growls as his hands tighten around the blanket under you.

your eyes were flicking to the back of your head with every thrust he made, punching a moan out of you every time, it was hard to even stay sane when you had a cock like his splitting your hole in two like a fucking piece of wood but god did you love it, it felt so good, his strong body on top of yours while he fucked you was like seeing the mona lisa.

oh but bellamy, well he just loved the way your hole fit him nicely, and the way your ass recoiled with every plap heard but drowned out by the partying and singing from the group further away "only if the group saw you now hm taking my cock like a fucking slut, so pretty" he snarled slapping your as harshly, your whole body jolting to the pain but it also kinda turned you on more.

more just enough to cum, all your cum landing in a puddle on your stomach "you tighten up when you cum, did you know that" bellamy laughs at your slightly dazed state "yeah thanks bill nye the fucking science guy" you joke "fuck im gonna cum" bellamy suddenly grunts and for a split second you can feel him about to pull out so you lock your legs around his waist.

and before his brain can even clock what you did he cums, he eyes rolling into the back of his head as he does so, it just felt so good i mean how could he contain it "slut" bellamy mutters slowly pulling out of your messy hole "i know you are but what am i" you laugh making him grab your face to kiss you before plopping down next to you.

he suddenly gained an idea in the dull head of his "sit on my face" he bluntly asks "what" you shaken by the request "sit on my fucking face" bellamy asks again and if it mean shutting him up then yes please, you straddle your legs to the side of his head and fully sit on his face, all your weight pressed down on him like if he was a chair.

to him he was in heaven, tongue poking at your hole and exploring your depths as he ate you out literally, he sucked and swallowed the cum from your hole like a five star meal before lifting you off him for some air "now that's what im talkin' about" he excitedly said, seems like this was going to be a reoccurring thing from now on

taglist:@mailmango@spermeboy@ghostking4m@gayaristocrat@addictedtomalepits@staarb0y@crispysoup318@its-ares@gargoylesworld09@kadenvatsune@fuckshft

[girlsdads]

this post made me feel deranged…

ik this concept has been written 100 times over but i’m thinking about 2017 rbr era daniel who’s come to terms (in a sense) with the fact that he wants to hook up with men but he labels himself as a top exclusively bc he thinks of it as more manly™️ etc etc whatever anyway he and max get together and it’s the best sex daniel’s ever had, max takes it so well, looks and sounds like he loves it and daniel is kind of like.. huh.. after they’re done one day daniel is trying to be casual like “wow so you really like bottoming” and max is like “of course, it is very good why would i not like it” and then he asks daniel if he’d like to try it, genuinely thinking that’s where this conversation was heading, but daniel gets indignant and sputtery like “n-no! i’m not— i’m not like that, haha” max is kinda mad now like “you are not like what, daniel? not like the girl? is that what you think? that i am like the girl? we are both men, you are having sex with a man it does not matter which way you are doing it.” daniel is trying to dig himself out of a hole (heh) but max is putting his clothes on and he’s going to leave and let daniel figure his shit out but suddenly there’s an urgent knock on the door and when max opens it BAM 2024 max is standing there. turns out he’s stuck in a time loop kind of sitch that can only end if he gets 2017 daniel to bottom for him! 2024 max explains why he’s there bc informed consent and all that jazz, 2017 daniel is of course shocked and a little mortified to hear that 2024 daniel actually prefers to bottom. he’s flushed and starting to get hard again though bc 2024 max is hot and the fact that they’re like.. together together in the future is really doing it for him apparently… anyway he agrees to do it, 2024 max rocks his world then he watches and instructs 2017 max on how to fuck daniel the way he likes best and daniel is reduced to a whimper-y mess of cum and sweat and tears and his 2 max’s cuddle him to sleep, when he wakes up 2024 max is gone and he asks 2017 max to fuck him again and jokingly is like “this doesn’t mean i’m the girl haha” and max is like “no of course you are very manly daniel now show me your hole”

[fcthots]

Hi! I m glad to see your inbox open again, last week I started having a Jason Todd brainrot (thanks to Pinterest for this) and when I type Jason Todd x reader on Tumblr your blog was one of the first ones I found (and the one whose most fics I spent the weekend reading 😅). Thank you so much for feeding my hiperfixation, you are talented and portrait Jason amazingly on your fics.

So now that your request are open, could you do a Jason x fem!reader with the prompt "Here! Take my jacket/coat". I love leather jackets and I would love to try Jackson's 😍

Btw, I am planning on showing on your inbox every once on a while. Could I ask for an anon emoji too, pretty please 🫶🏼?

Hey anon, good to have you

dealer's choice for emoji? bc then ur getting 🪽bc I think its cool

You swear you're gonna freeze to death. You and Jason ditched the gala not even 45 minutes after getting there. You booked it outside and argued on where you should sit like a married couple. The argument slowly derailed from there.

You tuck your arms closer around yourself. Your dress didn't exactly have a lot of fabric to keep you warm. "I realize now is a bad time to mention this, but I'm cold."

Jason looks at you like a cat that is thinking about how it's smarter than you. "I told you to bring a jacket."

"What jacket would match a gown, Jason? Huh? None! None is the correct answer!" You whisper shout, but your words have no real heat to them.

He crosses his arms. "Well maybe you shouldn't have worn such a skimpy dress!" You can see he's fighting off a smile from his own sarcasm.

"YOU PICKED OUT THE FUCKING DRESS!" You play along, but your voice trails off in a laugh.

He laughs when you laugh. "UGH. Fine. I guess you can have my jacket." He says it with faux annoyance and he's altogether stopped trying to suppress his smile.

After he dramatically shrugs off his jacket, he helps to slip it onto your shoulders, unable to suppress being a gentleman even for your fake fight.

Once it's snug on you, he takes a step back, eyes trailing over your form, looking at the dress he chose for you in his color (you lost a bet, but the dress was actually very nice and looked very good on you) and his jacket slipped over your shoulders.

After staring into your soul for a full minute, he finally opens his mouth. "New plan." You quirk an eyebrow before he continues. "We make a run for the manor and you take all of your clothes off."

You blink for a moment, processing his unexpected words. You nod. "Good plan. Slight issue: I am in heels."

"Princesses get carried. Let's go."

[wannab-urs]

Only Good Girls

Summary: Dave reminds you why you should always be a good girl for him. 

WC: 1.3k

Warnings: PWP/plot what plot, Reader has hair that can be pulled; fingering f receiving; squirting; multiple orgasms; overstimulation; choking; rough sex as punishment; unprotected p in v; mirror sex; bondage (necktie around the wrists behind the back); toaster strudel not a twinkie; excessive hair pulling, see A/N 1

A/N 1 (Important): This is technically really bad BDSM because there are moments where reader would be completely unable to safeword; however, we are going to suspend disbelief and assume they have some sort of system worked out. This is a pre-established dom/sub relationship with safewords, expectations, and limits all negotiated prior to these events. Additionally, I didn’t write the aftercare into the fic. Dave cleans reader up, wraps her in his arms and cuddles with her for a while, makes sure she’s hydrated, and takes a nice soothing bath with her. He’s a good dom! Everyone is happy and having a good time. Promise. 

A/N 2: What happens when a bunch of horny bitches start sending each other tumblr posts about choking, hair pulling, mirror sex, neckties, and dave york? This happens. Inspo is mostly from this post. posting at 6 am bc i think it's funny to post insane smut at the buttcrack of dawn.

Dave York Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

Dave grabs your shoulders and spins you to face the floor length mirror. He’s fully clothed in his suit from work, behind your completely naked figure, and you feel yourself get wet from the sight alone. 

You watch his reflection as he slowly unknots his tie. He pulls it from around his neck and runs the length of silk through his hands. 

“Hands behind your back.” 

You comply immediately, not wanting to make your punishment worse. He wraps the tie around your wrists and slips two fingers between the fabric and your wrists.

“Too tight?”

“No, sir.” 

“Kneel,” he commands. 

The hardwood bites into your knees as you drop to the floor in front of him. You meet his eyes in the mirror. You feel yourself get even wetter as he unbuttons the cuffs of his dress shirt and slowly, carefully, rolls each sleeve up to his elbows revealing his tanned, muscular forearms. 

He unbuckles his belt, grabs the buckle and pulls it free of his belt loops. You jump as the metal buckle clangs on the floor beside you. He grabs your shoulders and guides you forward until your face is pressed into the floor. 

You hear him settle on his knees behind you before two of his thick fingers plunge into your pussy without warning. You cry out at the sudden intrusion. Dave brings a hand down on your left ass cheek.

“You will be silent unless I ask you a direct question. Do you understand?” His voice sounds completely unaffected. Bastard. 

“Yes, sir,” you whimper.

He curls his fingers against your front wall and starts pumping rapidly. Your breath catches in your throat as you try to hold back a scream. You can’t squirm away in your current position, forced to take the overwhelming sensation. You roll your lips in, squeeze your eyes shut, and will yourself to stay silent as he catapults you over the edge. Your fingernails dig into your palms as your body seizes around his fingers and your juices coat his hand. 

He doesn’t even give you a moment to relax before he’s fucking his fingers into you again, this time using his other hand to assault your clit. You start to think he’s going to punish you by giving you so many orgasms you never want to come again. 

The sound of your soaking wet cunt fills the air as he plunges his fingers into you again and again. You try to rock your hips back into him, but he has you pinned in place. You bite your lip so hard you taste copper, wanting so badly to stay silent and please him. You’re so fucking close. Your body is a tightened coil on the verge of snapping. A small whimper escapes you as another wave of pleasure courses through your body. 

His hands leave you immediately, and a pitiful whine falls from your lips as your high is snatched away from you. 

“Quiet, little one. Or I’ll have to gag you.”

You nod, your cheek dragging on the floor. Dave brings his hand down on your ass again, harder than before, and you clench around nothing

“Yes, sir!” 

Dave sits back on his haunches. You’re spread out in front of him, holes on display for him, arms quivering in their tie, shoulders heaving with your shaky breaths. Beautiful. 

He opens his dress pants, pulling his cock out and stroking it with the mess you made on his hand. Moments later you feel his blunt head swiping through your folds. He presses slowly in, making sure you feel the drag of every inch of his thick cock.

It feels like hours before he’s buried to the hilt inside you. He fists one hand in your hair and wraps the other around your throat, pulling your head back until you’re gazing into the mirror again.

“Look at you, pretty girl. All stretched out on my cock. Does it feel good?” 

Your eyes slowly focus and you see his broad frame behind you and your body molded to his liking by his hands. Your cunt spasms, squeezing his cock like a vice. 

“Feels so fucking good, sir,” you moan. You’re starting to wonder how this is a punishment.

He draws his hips back achingly slowly and then plunges into you so hard you think your ass will be bruised from his hip bones. Your breath is audibly punched out of you. He jerks your head back a bit further, forcing your back to arch as he slams his hips into you again. Oh fuck. 

He sets a brutal pace, slamming into you over and over. He uses his grip on your throat and hair to keep your eyes on him, his fist in your hair tightening every time you start to close them. You try and fail not to let out a scream when the tip of his cock kisses your cervix. His hand tightens on your throat, until the only noise that can escape is a pathetic gasp for breath. 

He pulls your back to his chest by your throat and fucks up into your soaking cunt, his cock pounding into your spongy front wall. He grunts into your ear with the force of his thrusts, driving you even wilder. Your core tightens around his cock, your whole body feeling like a coiled spring, until finally the tension snaps. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as wave after wave of pleasure wracks your body before you go limp in his arms.

He lets go of your throat and you’re held up only by his punishing grip on your hair. He drops you back onto the floor, limp as a rag doll and still speared on his thick cock. His left hand grips your hip so hard it will leave fingertip shaped bruises in your flesh, and his right hand wraps around the tie on your wrists. His thumb strokes your hip almost tenderly as he pulls out until only the head of his cock is inside you. 

“You’re allowed to scream now,” he says menacingly. 

He growls as he drags you by your wrists back onto his cock. He sets a pace just as brutal as before, filling the room with the sound of your ass colliding with his thighs and your screams of ecstasy. Your whole body feels wrung out like a used dish rag, but he feels so fucking good inside you that you don’t care. 

He drags you back into him over and over, loving the way you give your body over to him completely. He brings his left hand down on your ass cheek just to hear you moan. You want to beg him to let you come again, but all you manage is a weak please groaned into the floorboards. 

“Come on baby. Give me one more,” he groans, as if he read your mind. 

His hand snakes around the front of your body and finds your clit, dragging rough circles on it as he continues to bury himself inside you. It’s only moments before you’re coming again, sobbing and babbling thank yous and curses. Your body convulses, trying to curl in on itself, to escape the overwhelming feeling of him inside you, but you still whine when he pulls out. 

He lets go of you completely and you collapse onto the floor in a heap. You hear the wet sound of his fist on his cock and realize what he’s doing. 

“Sir, please!” 

His hand once again meets the flesh of your still stinging ass cheeks and you let out a pathetic sob into the floorboards. He strokes his cock until you feel the wet spurts of his cum cover your ass and thighs. You turn your tear soaked face up to look at him, about to ask why he didn’t come inside you, but he beats you to it.

“Only good girls get filled up.”

[bravo4iscool]

Levi Baby🖤

The way I adore you for pairing Simon with a Chubby girl. I bring a thot to you if you're interested:

Bodyguard!Simon Ghost Riley x chubby f!reader

- He's newly retired , gets asked for a favor from Price for a friend's kid

- Said kid is a mid 20's thicc woman who is all business since she's a lawyer in Human Rights and involved with the UN.

- He thinks she's going to be a snob based off looks bc girl loves to dress and she does it well, she observes Simon as he is. Brooding, Haunted and Self Assureed with a drizzle of dark humor but loyal.

- They get off on the wrong foot [Simon was being an irrational ass forgetting his manners and respect], reader isn't scared of him and doesn't take lightly to being disrespect3d for no apparent reason.

- They're holed up living together under the radar since the thr3at to reader was pretty big seeing it was world leaders

- They're going to have to learn to live with each other, where Simon barks orders - reader is anamused and calmly condescends. He can't even get annoyed bc she's antisocial and a houseplant but he's trying

- doesn't help that he's so.so attracted to her.

*make this as suggestive as you want (give ghost heart attacks with her choice of home clothes please. We know he's touch straved, emotionally constipated and needed a therap session.

Make her stress him out by confronting all of that in her short fiery demon way please.

I hope your new year is sweet Love💋

oh lord. oH LORD. how can you write this and not think about me fainting😭 THIS IS- URGH- AMAZING AHHHQGACQGQVQZQZAVQ!!!!

i hope i can do this justice😭 normally i try to imitate simon’s accent but bro… i was just too tired to do it now, so i hope you can forgive me for that🥲

KEEP HITING ME WITH STUFF LIKE THIS OH MY GOD😩

not really happy but i tried my best :) also not proof-read!

(masterlist)

REQUESTS/ASKS OPEN!!!

“There’s no but’s!” Simon argues while almost dragging you—his protégée—along the hallway inside the safe house. “You’re in danger and it’s my job to protect you!”

“I’ve been perfectly fine on my own before,” you argue, trying your best to wriggle away from his grip. You hated it when he manhandled like that.

He turns around, his eyes fiercely staring down at you and you feel like they’re piercing through your soul. “Have you ever had the Taliban threaten you, huh? Or fucking ISIS? I don’t think so; so stop whining and follow me!”

You want to argue with him, tell him he’s not allowed to talk to you that way but damn, you knew he was right. Ever since you started working for the UN you’ve been threatened—you were getting used to it—but only by small groups not someone like the Taliban.

“We’re gonna stay here until the threat is eliminated for not serious anymore.” His statement leaves little room to argue but you’re itching to say something anyway. It’s wasn’t your nature to just shut up. You were a lawyer, you were used to arguing.

You grimace as you force yourself to accept your fate. You didn’t want to but in the end you knew Simon was right. So, you follow him, an annoyed look on your face. You hated it when he was right.

“It’s only temporary,” he grumbles as he kicks a door open and pushes you inside. “It’s not like I want it, okay?”

You only roll your eyes, throwing a halfhearted ‘whatever’ at him and inspecting the room he hauled you into. “This is where I’m gonna stay?” you ask him, a slight hint of defeat in your voice.

“Pretty much, yes. I’ll be on the other side of the hallway,” he explains, leaning against the door frame. “In case anything happened, of course,” he immediately adds; just so you don’t get a…wrong picture of this whole thing here.

“We got wifi here?” is you next questions when you turn to look at him, your arms crossed in front of your chest.

“No wifi. No contact to the outer world,” is his answer and you feel your blood start to boil.

“You have to be kidding me! How am I supposed to work then?” You throw your hands in the air, letting out an angry huff. “You can’t just cut me off civilisation!”

He only shrugs. “I can and I will. Work can wait, alright? Your life is more important now.” Again his voice leaves no room to argue but this time you won’t take it. You put your hands on your hips, looking up at him.

“You think that’s how it works? Then, please Lieutenant Riley,” you spit out his rank “fly over to the dozens of war criminals and tell them to stop too! Oh wait-“ you act shocked. “That’s not how it fucking works! You can’t expect me to sit still and look pretty while the world drowns in injustice!”

“Would make things a lot easier tho,” he mumbles under his breath while pushing himself off the door frame. “Just…do something that doesn’t require wifi or anything like that, alright?” Before you can even think of an answer he leaves, shutting the door behind him. Why the hell was he treating like some little child?

~

“How old is she?” Simon wants to know as he hands his old Captain the picture of you back. He’s sat on a chair, his legs spread, one arm resting on the back rest.

“Mid 20s,” Price answers, placing his folded hands onto the table. “She needs security and her father’s not really…trusting the usual companies; and since you’re nearly retired I thought you could use the job.” Simon holds Price’s gaze and nods along. “He trusts me, therefore he trusts you. She’s a lawyer, heavily associated and involved with the UN and human rights.”

“What are the details?” Simon slightly tilts his head, curiously raising his eyebrows.”

“24/7 protection. The full package. You’ve done it before,” Price explains and Simon once again nods along. “Before you take the job tho-“ he pauses. “She’s, well… she’s a lawyer Simon. You need to know what you get into.” The Captains gaze hardens, his back straightening. “She won’t like that she’s on protection detail, therefore she’ll be treating you like that.”

Simon only smirks, flipping his well kept coin between his fingers. “There’s nothing I can’t handle John. I’ve met people like that before and I was perfectly fine.”

Now Price was the one smirking while shaking his head. “I know and I don’t question your abilities but she’s a civilian—the one you’re protecting. You can’t handle this the way you’ve handled other subjects before.”

“I know what I’m getting into,” Simon assures in a calm tone definitely not knowing what he was getting himself into.

~

“Fucking hell,” Simon mutters when he first sees you. You’re walking straight to you office—the one he was sitting in—involved in a heated talk with that seemed like your secretary.

He’s able to make out single words but well, his hearing wasn’t the best anymore after nearly 20 years of military service. And now he thinks he probably should’ve stayed in the field.

The way you’re waking and talking and dressing just screams ‘snob’ at him. He slightly lowers his head to gaze at you, once again playing with his coin. Maybe he should’ve declined the offer and taken on the underground wrestling instead. Would’ve been more fun for sure.

As soon as you spot your guest you send your secretary away, bracing yourself for the following conversation. You weren’t a fan of getting security and you definitely weren’t a fan of the fact that it was a friend of your father’s friend and he—apparently—was everything but easy.

“Lieutenant Riley,” you greet him, extending your hand to him. When he stands up to his full height you slightly crane your neck; the professional smile still on your face.

“Ma’am,” he greets in a gruff voice, the skin of his hand raw and calloused as he return the handshake. “Pleased to meet you.” He isn’t. He just wants to leave but he brought this on himself so he needs to finish it now. ‘One year’, he told himself. ‘Then I can quit.’

“I can only return the pleasure,” you smile, clearing your throat. “Would you mind sitting down at my desk?” You ask, pointing towards said desk. “I think it’s easier to discuss business over there.”

Simon agrees, towering over you as he makes his way over to one of the chairs in front of the desk. You take place behind it, carefully straightening your blouse. He needs to warn himself not to stare. Fuck, why were you so pretty? A pretty little snob…

~

“This has to be taken seriously!” Simon raises his voice at you, successfully blocking the door of your office.

“This is nothing I haven’t dealt with before,” you argue with him, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “So please, Simon, let me get out of my office and back to work.”

He huffs, “Not a change. You’ll be staying here until the threat is cleared.” He glances over his shoulder, loving and hating the fact that you had a glass office. “Are these bullet prove?” he asks, looking at you again.

You sigh, “No.”

“We’ll have that changed,” he immediately answers and you start to shake your head.

“We’ll have nothing changed! You weren’t hired to renovate my office!” You walk towards him. “Now, Mr. Riley, please step aside so I can continue working.”

“Not happening.” He straightens up to his full height, expecting you to back off but you do the exact opposite. You swat your finger at him, looking up.

“I don’t care what you think, you will stay here; if you want it or not.” His voice is stern and stoic and you need to do your best to not full on scream at him.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that,” you hiss, your index finger jabbing his chest. “I can make my own decisions, I’m a responsible adult. So don’t you dare talk down to me that way!”

When Simon doesn’t make a move you let out an angry huff and shake your head. Then you turn away and stalk towards your desk. “Fucking military man,” you curse under your breath, ignoring the way he stared you down.

~

You stare at your open suitcase, debating what to wear. On the one hand, you kinda were on your own, on the other hand, Simon was with you.

You were comfortable in your body—no question—you actually kinda liked the extra cushions but sometimes you felt like Simon was staring at you. Like he wasn’t able to take his eyes off of you and that made you…feel something. Something you were afraid of.

“Ah fuck it,” you say under your breath, fishing out some shorts and a shirt. You could care less about what Simon thinks. You both are only work related. Nothing else.

You tap down the stairs, walking straight into the kitchen. “You want something to eat?” You ask Simon, glancing at him when you hear him enter.

“You willing to make some?” he jokes, expecting you to say ‘no’ but when you say ‘yes’ his eyes widen and he pauses for a second. When you notice it you let out a small chuckle, opening the fridge and multiple cabinets to see what you could make.

“Any friends that’ll miss you?” he asks once you place a plate in front of him, looking up at you with curious eyes.

You shake your head, “Nope. Not really.” You sit down opposite of him, grabbing your fork. “Too busy to have friends.”

He tilts his head, blindly picking up the food either his fork. “No boyfriend?” He knows you don’t have one. You have no dates, no flings, nothing; but he wants to hear it from you. Maybe then his fantasies wouldn’t be so forbidden…

“Please,” you laugh. “We’d be divorced before we even married.” You take a sip of water and look at him. “I don’t have time for relationships and that kind of stuff. I have a target to pursue. Ain’t no time for distraction.”

He only nods in an understanding manner, playing with his beer bottle. “And you?” you ask. “You got someone?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. I’ve got you to deal with. That’s enough.” He smirks when he sees your facial expression, letting out a low chuckle. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for,” he continues joking. “But no. I don’t have anyone. Never really had.”

“Oh…” you say in an almost pitiful tone and he hates it. It not that he couldn’t get someone. He just didn’t want to. That’s a big difference. “Well not really different for me,” you then snort, slightly grimacing. You had this one guy ask you out for prom but that turned out to be a bet rather fast and after than you decided to not to date in school or university anymore.

Yeah sure, you were more chubby than other girls but that doesn’t mean that you’re not lovable, right? By now you were comfortable in your body—you were in your mid 20’s—but sometimes you felt yourself slipping back into the insecure girl you once were. The one who thought that no man would ever lay his eyes on her in a lustful or loving manner.

Simon’s itching to say something; to ask why you don’t have anyone… You’re perfect. You’re nice—even if he hated to admit it. You’re pretty, you’re so fucking soft… Did the men around you not see that?

“Simon?” You wave your hand around in front of his face, chuckling when he slightly flinches, his pupils blow. “Are you alright?” you carefully ask, eying him as if something was wrong.

But he only clears his throat, “Yes. Everything’s fine.” Then he hastily stands up and nods at you. “Thank you for the food.”

You watch after him as he leaves, a frown on your face. Was he really okay or was he just lying to you?

Simon on the other hand was probably turning red as a tomato. How could he allow himself to slip like that? Fuck, he needed to keep himself better under control.

As soon as he reaches his room he shuts the door and leans against it while opening his pants with shaking hands.

He had a—growing—problem and he needed take care of it. Now.

-

Approximately one week into the lockdown Simon finds you in the living room, crouched over a bunch of files and documents.

“What’s that?” he wants to know, looking over your shoulder.

“Work,” you simply reply, taking notes and pushing the papers around. You were so close, this close to finally finish this case but something was missing and it stressed you out.

He slowly nods, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “And how did you manage to get these files?”

“I’m a lawyer Simon. I have my ways and connections,” is your plain answer and you can basically feel him tensing behind you.

“What if they give away your location,”

“They won’t.”

“How can you be sure?” He tries his best to be calm but god, you were testing his nerves. He gave you strict orders and you were supposed to follow them.

You turn around with an annoyed sigh, looking up at him. “Because my father brought me those. You think he would sell me out to the enemy? I doubt so.”

You raise your eyebrow, waiting for any other complaint by him but be only looks at the files behind you, then at you again. “Maybe check the mission reports of the special forces.” With that he leaves you alone, more than confused.

You know why Simon told you what he told you when you find what you need exactly there. The mission reports were sitting somewhere beneath everything else because you didn’t pay much attention to them; in the end they were the solution.

Now you could finally link the crimes to someone and with that to the government or the military at least.

The next time you see Simon you almost jump into his arms, thanking him over and over again. “Now the case is finally closed,” you tell him with a big grin on your face, completely forgetting that you’re usually not so happy when around him.

Simon just awkwardly pats your back, pushing you off him and ignoring the burning desire deep within him. He knew it was risky to give you a tip but you were struggling and he didn‘t like that. He just hoped that you wouldn’t ask him why he knew that you should look at the mission reports. Once you knew that he was a war criminal this job would be over. And while you certainly were a pain in the ass sometimes he felt a very present attraction towards you.

-

Simon realises he’s a goner when he wakes up one morning and sees you walking around in a shirt. Just a shirt, as far as he can see and it does something to you. His hands are itching to touch you and he finds himself excusing himself more and more to the bathroom.

And you? You started to notice the kind of power you have over him and it makes you boast with pride. You, a chubby little lawyer in your mid 20s, has him, an almost 40 year old retired military Lieutenant, wrapped around your little finger.

After that you decide to play a little game. Wouldn’t hurt, no? Just subtle touches. Brushing his arm when you walk past him, patting his chest when he helps you with something, your legs touching his whenever you sit beside him.

He tries to shrug it off but you can practically feel how worked up he gets and how hard it is for him to keep him shit together; and that fuels you only more. How long would it take for him to break? To crumble beneath your touch, huh? You wanted, no, you needed to find that out.

Simon knows what you were doing. He isn’t stupid but he hates it. How was he so weak that you were able to play with him like that?

After a week, maybe two of you dancing around him he has you caged in against the kitchen counter, towering over you.

“What makes you think you can just play with me like that, huh?” he asks in a low voice, his eyes scanning your face for any reaction. “You think it’s funny? Working me up like that every day?”

You try not to be intimidated—or turned on—by him but god, he’s just- you don’t have any words for it. He’s tall, broad and fucking strong. You once got a look at the muscles under all his clothes and you weren’t the same after that. Nu-uh.

“I thought you like it,” you reply with a cocky grin, trying to overshadow your uncertainty. “Do you want me to stop?” You blink at him, acting all innocent and pure. In the corner of your eye you see his grip on the counter tightening. Oh, you had him where you wanted him.

A ‘bloody hell’ is all you get before his lips crash down onto yours and he heaves you on top of the counter. His hands find their way to your hips, scarred fingers tracing them and squeezing, wanting to pull you even closer.

The moment his lips touch yours you forget everything else. This is want you wanted—needed—for weeks. And lord, that man knew what he was doing.

You weren’t a fan of him dragging and pushing you around but right now? Right now you couldn’t wish for anything else. You bury your hands in the dirty kind strands of hair on the back of his head, gently pulling at them which results in him groaning in your mouth.

“Take me to the bedroom and maybe I’ll stop teasing you,” you breathlessly tell him once he breaks the kiss only to kiss you again immediately making you all hot and tingly.

You can feel him smirk against his lips before they trail down your neck towards your collar bone. “Ain’t gonna take you anywhere love,” he whispers and you’re able to once again feel him smirk against your skin. “Gonna fuck you right here on that kitchen counter. You want that?” he looks up at you through hooded eyes, which makes you swallow.

“Words love, words.” His tone is playful even tho you can see the desperation in the way his hands move all over your body, letting you see stars already.

“Yes…please,” you almost choke out, feeling like everything you want to say is being swallowed my your throat again. You’re unable to talk.

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” Simon teases, straightening up to kiss your lips again, cupping your cheek. “Gonna take good care of you,” he promises. “I’m gonna show you how a real man treats you,” he swears and you can feel a familiar but also unfamiliar heat building in the pit of your stomach.

(i got scared to write the rest👍🏼. i’m sorry, i’m still new to writing smut😭)

[metamorphiacreations]

i want to talk about Jjajang Cookie and cultural disconnection

bc its not the focus of the story but its important for her as a character

hi welcome back to Meta rambling at 3am again akandn

The dish of jjajangmyeon or black bean sauce noodles (which sounds so fucking good, i really wanna try some) was brought to Korea in the late 19th century by way of Chinese migrant workers and stems from the Chinese dish, zhajiangmian or fried bean sauce noodles

i saw a post from @/walnutcookie where he mentioned that unlike most other cookies, Agent Jjajang doesnt know how to make her own dish, Cream Puff Cookie knows how to make cream puffs, Latte Cookie knows how to make lattes, even Tanghulu Cookie's whole thing is going back and forth between hot and cold baths because thats what you do to the fruit to make tanghulu, but Jjajang has never made jjajangmyeon until she starts running the noodle shop and even then she doesnt get the hang of it until Olive (who ill call Oli for this post) shows her how to make noodles.

this could be interpreted as Jjajang representing children or descendants of immigrants that have one way or another, lost touch with their culture. the chances of it meaning to be that deep are honestly 50/50 because on one hand the story is a hardass of a government agent does average life work to track down aliens but at the same time the story so far has constantly brought up going back to your roots and homestyle nostalgia. in fact the reason the restaurant blows up in the first place is because Jjajang learned how to play to the aliens' favor by making the noodles taste like home to them.

the franchise doesnt need to say it out loud because its so obvious but a cookie's main ingredient is integral to their living and for a lot of cookies, that ingredient is like 98% of their diet. so the fact that Jjajang up until this point had been eating instant noodles rather than proper jjajangmyeon probably wasnt good for her.

we can see that slowly but surely she starts becoming more happy and comfortable making noodles and even catches herself taking pride in her work, although she tries to bring herself back to reality afterwards. she is a secret agent, not a noodle chef! but i wonder if she realizes that she's finally able to find some connection to her ancestors. given the dishes history, it would make Jjajang canonically Chinese Korean but she talks like she never had the chance to partake in her Chinese heritage.

i myself am afro-dominican. 2nd gen american born or however you say it. my great-grandmother, grandmother and great aunts moved from DR to New York and without getting too personal, i dont feel confident in my knowledge about Dominican culture. i dont know about the history of my country, i dont know about our clothing styles or anything specific but i do know about our food! we eat it all the time! i love sancocho, i love mangú, i love platanos in general. food just makes me feel connected to DR even though ive never been (yet!)

call it projecting or whatever but i feel like Jjajang is the same way, shes happy making noodles because it brought her closer to her family roots and even if that wasnt the intention with her character, i still think its a great aspect and wonderful, quiet plotline.

[matcha-flavored-cake]

୧ ‧₊˚ 🥐 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐄!𝟒𝟐 𝐇𝐂𝐒.

. warnings: mentions of death (Jefferson) and grief, grammar erros (english is not my first language).

. featuring: Miles Morales (e!42)

. wc: 1.4k

.a/n: if you see grammatical errors, or me saying something in Spanish wrong, please feel free to correct me. My Spanish is rusty as fuck

hcs for miles 1610 here

He listens to a lot of reggaeton, afrobeat, and R&B. C'mon guys, look at my face and say to me he doesn't, also he prob like old school rap too, thanks to uncle Aaron and his dad, Jefferson probably showed his some jazz

I feel like Mama Rio and Abuelita Gloria showed him some old Puerto Rican singers and he listens old songs from time to time, specially when his nana is visiting

This man knows mechanics. Period. Help his mom to fix things around the house, shower, the lights etc. Bet his 'son and dad' time involved something with fixing things around the house and Jefferson 'passing the knowledge ' to Miles

"Listen Miles, you're the man in the house when I'm not around got it?"

"'kay dad"

"When I'm not around you're responsible for your mom deal? Gotta make sure she's in good hands when I'm not around"

"I gotchu dad, don't worry"

Ok listen, I'm kicking my feet thinking about Miles tuning his uncle's Ducati (and prob Aaron has a Ducati Scrambler. I do not take criticism), while listening music I'm just *giggling like a schoolgirl*

Btw I feel like if Miles ever had a motorcycle for his personal use and not for Prowler activities, it would be a Kawasaki Ninja or a Yamaha XSR 900. For Prowler activity honestly, he would have a Hayabusa bc it's fast as fuck, with purple neon lights like his Prowler suit. you cannot argue with me. I feel like it was a way of him and his uncle spend time together before his dad died

Miles prob is always tinkering with the titanium claws and his paraphernalia. (I love this word btw)

So yeah prob hes always with his uncle doing shit on the motorcycle or his suit while listening music or sum, or practicing boxing together.

And I bet his mom slapped them two when she once arrived and saw Aaron teaching Miles how to pilot a bike

"What you're doing with my son Aaron!" *that one meme of a man slapping the player on the shoulder*

"Ouch ouch! I'm just teachin' the kid how to pilot Rio, I surrender I surrender!"

"¿Y tú? ¿Qué diablos está en tu mente, Miles? ¡Montando una motocicleta! What am I going to do with you Miles Gonzalo Morales?!"

"¡Cálmate mamá! Uncle Aaron was just teachin' me, no es gran cos- ouch! Mom that hurts!"

Speaking of which, Mama Rio has insane strength on her arms (being a nurse demand a lot of strength to carry patients, changing their clothes, helping them bathe and all), that being said, when Mama Rio get ✨la chancla✨ oh boy, run, no kidding, run

(Everytime my mom grabbed her havaianas I runned more than Usain Bolt. I still do honestly)

I have a feeling that Miles knows how to cook, like he always knew. Arroz con pollo? Bet, does it with eyes closed. Fancy meals? Oh boy he's probably the only guy that the women of the family let inside the kitchen to help with Christmas banquet.

He eat his veggies, hates wasting food, it's not a picky eater but don't put pickles on his burger for the love of God.

Bet his nana tried to give him a bit of coquito without his mom seeing. (I hc his nana is one of those old lady that are a menace to society)

"Take a sip don't worry, No one is watching"

"No nana I'm all good"

"¡Mamá! Take this away from Miles."

Since his dad passed away he understood quite early that now he is the man in the house, that now he's the one to take care of his mom. So he started paying more attention to the chores. His mom is on duty? He's putting some music and cleaning the house, changing the blankets of his mom's bed, and probably making something for her to eat when she come back.

Prob has his mom schedule on his phone to make sure he knows where she is so it wouldn't risk her seeing his as the Prowler and he can watch out from the buildings while Rio walks to her work

Sunday family lunch was usual at Miles' house, his dad 'helping' his mom with the food (he just looked and passed her the ingredients), while Miles set the table. Music on the radio, enjoying the day before Miles need to go back to Brooklyn Visions.

Prefer more salty foods than sweets. Likes eating steak, it doesn't matter if it's BBQ or carne assada, he likes meat. For sweets, he's obsessed with the way his mom does Tembleque (sorry Abuelita Gloria)

We know his room is quite similar to 1610 Miles, but I feel like he doesn't have as many toys as 1610 Miles does. He sold some and used the money to help his mom somehow, he just doesn't want to be a burden for her.

I feel like he doesn't give his mom the money, he straight up pays the bill, or does groceries, so there's no way his mom can deny it. That or he gives the money to his uncle and they pretend that it is Aaron helping them.

It's confirmed by the artbook that Miles Prowler is a vigilante. That being said I think he decided to be the Prowler to help his place somehow, maybe even to make his dad proud, and to make his mom's life easier (just imagine the amount of people that get in the hospital because of how dangerous is the city now my god).

His mom is the priority in his life, he loves his family, his neighborhood and his friends. He's a kind soul with a shattered heart.

Miles is a quite good student. Not the '🤓☝️ actually that's happened at 09:12 in 1786…' type of smart, but the fast thinking kind of smart student. If he doesn't remember the formula he uses logical thinking. Prob takes classes ahead of his years and since he's always tinkering with his uncle his grades in calculus related stuff are pretty high.

Very good with Spanish by the way. Since his dad passed away he started learning more and more to speak with his mom in her native language to make her feel more 'at home' somehow.

I feel like in the first week after his dad passed away he slept in his house for some time and not in Brooklyn Visions dorms, he wished to be with his mom. He did not want her to be alone on her bed, mourning hi dad's death. Abuelita Gloria stayed some months with them too to help her daughter and to help Miles

Miles do his best to be organized, make his bed everyday after waking up, his cabinet is always organized, his Jordans are clean and probably have a collection of them on a shelf in his room. The only messy place on his room is his desk

Has a vinyl collection, don't argue with me. There's literally a bunch of vinyls in his room, guys.

Has some old Puerto Rican singers vinyls on his room thanks to Abuelita Gloria

Miles sings a bit, and have quite a melodic baritone voice. For my synesthetic friends, his voice sounds like honey, Miles is most of times humming when he's making upgrades on his claws

He's more athletic than 1610 Miles. Parkour, boxing and playing basketball with his neighbors and uncle

Started parkour because of his prowler activities to keep up with his uncle, same with boxing, after all he needed to defend himself and his mom. I don't doubt he knows krav maga too and I also don't doubt he taught his mom self defense.

Bought his mom a self defense kit

Uncle Aaron teached him forbidden movements in jiu jitsu, I take zero criticism on that one

Miles has a hard time sleeping sometimes, doesn't shift much when sleeping and has a knife under his pillow or something both in his house room and in Brooklyn Visions.

Loves, love, loves kids, as i said he's a kind soul with a shattered heart, and I think he's quite good with kids, and scares the shit of some at the same time.

I feel 'angry painter' vibes from him. He sketches and all but I feel like he's more of a painter and graffiti kind of guy. I do think he knows how to play bass or piano btw

Would get piercings on his ear and tongue, yes. But since he's the Prowler it would be troublesome because of the time that takes to heal

The old ladies of the neighborhood love him, he's kind to them, and always scare away weird looking guys

Is the crush nextdoor of almost every girl on the neighborhood

One time he scared the shit out of a creep on his neighborhood. Punched the guy so bad that dislocate the man's jaw. Since then he need to hide himself on valentine day, the good part about it is that he got a lot of chocolate to eat.

Seems like a bad boy all the time but he's an introvert. Miles do his best to don't get attached to people bc he doesn't want to drag them into his world or risk people he loves

He just don't want see people dying anymore, that's why he does what he does, to make the world a little bit safe, even if it's just a bit

@matcha-flavored-cake © • do not copy, translate or use as your own

[coloursflyaway]

I don't remember how (because I couldn't find an ask, so if I just misplaced that, I'm sorry), but some time ago @itsablueberrycow sent this little prompt and I had a bit of time so I thought I'd give it a shot!

Edwin and cat king have been spending a lot of time together which really pisses off Charles because that’s supposed to be his best friend (totally not bc he’s jealous and in love with him) and eventually after having to hear all about what Edwin and Cat king have been doing together Charles just looses it and is all, what does he have that I don’t, and ends up kissing him or confessing feelings or something because he’s so jealous he just can’t take it anymore.

Read on AO3

___

“I don’t think you should spend so much time with that guy”, Charles tells Edwin as he saunters back into the agency, looking… well, looking like he always looks, but that doesn’t matter, because Charles’ teeth are already on edge. Because Edwin has been spending time with the fucking Cat King again.

By now, Charles has met the man three times, and every single time, he likes him less.

“Don’t be like that, Charles”, Edwin all but admonishes him, and oh, he hates that, too. He’s going to be like this whenever he feels like it, actually. “He’s quite an agreeable chap once you have gotten to know him, even if some of his attempts at humour might be rather crude. If you gave him a chance, I think you might end up rather fond of him.”

“Well, I don’t want to get to know him”, Charles shoots back and means it; he doesn’t need to know anything more about this git, with his stupid luscious hair and his outrageous clothes and mysterious best-friend-stealing-powers. Charles knows just enough. Too much, even. “I just want you to know less about him, too.”

The words feel wrong as they stumble off his lips, like they reveal too much, even if Charles isn’t sure what there is to reveal: it’s quite clear, isn’t it? Edwin has been spending a frankly outrageous amount of time away from the agency, and through that, away from Charles, and Charles doesn’t like it. At all.

And yet, it stops Edwin dead in his tracks too, one arm raised to slide the bow tie from his neck, and have his fingers always been this long, this elegant? All of a sudden, Charles isn’t sure anymore.

“Charles”, Edwin starts, and he isn’t admonishing anymore, instead he sounds like he isn’t sure of what he is saying, which is a first. He comes closer to where Charles is sitting, step by cautious step, and something about Edwin’s stance, his expression makes Charles get up, like this is something he should be at Edwin’s level for. “Are you… jealous?”

It’s.

Well.

It’s a thought.

Charles turns it around in his mind, looks at its edges and its curves, its imperfections and its flaws, and doesn’t find a lot of them. It feels unfamiliar, sure, but it doesn’t feel wrong.

Curious. Definitely worth being investigated.

Edwin is standing so close that Charles could reach out and touch him, and Charles cocks his head, imagines doing so. Imagines his hands in Edwin’s, their spectral breath mingling, their lips touching, and yes, Charles misses kissing, but does he miss kissing Edwin?

He hasn’t had time to think about it too much yet, with moving back to London and new cases and Edwin spending far too much time with that menace of a Cat King.

But looking at Edwin’s lips and thinking of him on the steps to Hell, looking up at Charles so earnestly, with so much unnecessary anguish, he thinks, yes.

Even if he has never done it before, or maybe because of it, he might miss kissing Edwin quite a lot.

“What if I am?”, Charles asks, and it sounds like a challenge; maybe it is supposed to be one.

Edwin sucks in a breath, and for a moment, his eyes drop to Charles’s lips and that sends a jolt through him that feels like electricity, feels like heat, feels like the affection he has always had for Edwin, just a little more of it.

“In that case”, Edwin says, and he sounds like he is still reaching for the words, like they are hard to grasp or maybe just hard to keep, or say out loud. “Why don’t you do something about it?”

It’s the most un-Edwin thing to say, and Charles almost feels himself gasping at it; the heat is back, and so is the electricity, so is, most of all, the bone-crushing love he has for this impossible boy with his perfect hair and his pink lips and the mind and the wit and the compassion that Charles has loved ever since he met Edwin, cold and scared and dying.

“You want me to?”, Charles asks, and the bravado drops from Edwin’s shoulder like a blanket he doesn’t need any longer, because he is warm already, like a coat he has outgrown. It makes it better, because this is the Edwin he knows, and in the end, that’s the Edwin he wants to kiss the most.

“If you are sure about it”, Edwin replies, and there is a question in his voice he doesn’t speak out-loud; Charles hears it anyway. I want this, if you want it too. If you will want it tomorrow and in a decade and in a century, then I want it more than life itself.

“Yeah”, Charles says, and in that moment knows he is, knows that he will be sure about it tomorrow and in a decade and in a century. “I am.”

And then, he does something about it, even before Edwin can say another word, have another thought; he leans in and kisses Edwin, kisses the sigh and the speech and the doubt right off Edwin’s lips, and kisses on them the electricity and the warmth and the affection instead.

And finds out he was right; he’s missed this, has missed this even before he knew what missing it would feel like.

[fortheb0ys]

You know I was randomly thinking about how my sister and I started saying "yummers" because of homelander saying it to a-train 😭‼️

Then thought of you and wanted to tell you that info‼️ and maybe drop this in your inbox bc :3c

Cw: Trans Jeff Sadecki, Creampie, breeding kink, crying (I have not watched yellowjackets i am so sorry if he's ooc 😭‼️), squirting, using cunt and cocklet for Jeff's genitals, meow!

Honestly you don't know how you got here, balls deep in Jeff's cunt while in the woods.

Well, you did know. It's not like your memory is that bad.

You hadn't seen Jeff for a long, long time. Growing up together just a house away as close friends, knowing each other so well at one point people said it was eery how in tune you two were. But you left for college, and Jeff stayed where you grew up with him.

You had graduated, calls and letters becoming less and less overtime. Missing him terribly but wanting to make it where you were, not willing to drop everything to a man who was already so busy. You didn't want to burden him, and dig up past feelings that had already sealed shut.

Now you're older, successful, done everything you could to become who you are. Yet you felt.... unfulfilled. You knew exactly what was missing, knew exactly what you needed....

Him.

So you trudged your sorry ass all the way back to the old place you left behind so many years ago, seeing how some of the sights had changed. Totally not procrastinating finding Jeff, knowing where he works and lives because of social media.

Eventually, you get the balls to find your way to his job. Watching as he walks towards his car, blissfully unaware that you're right there.

"Jeff." You clear your throat, watching as he stills and turns around with wide- disbelieving eyes.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Bright eyed smile crossing his face as he walks up to you, pulling you in for a good and strong hug.

It's familiar, the way his arms wrap around your shoulders. Your arms wrapping around his waist and pulling him close. His scent, his smile, his eyes.

Fuck.

"I missed this place, missed all the people."

Missed you. Goes left unsaid.

"You did? This ol' place?" He looks at you as if you grown two heads, clapping you on the shoulders and pulling away to lean back against his car.

"Yeah, is that really so hard to believe?" You murmur, unable to help the way you lean towards him. Moving just that bit closer to be deemed almost too friendly.

You know him, known him for years.

You can see the way his breath hitches, eyes widening slightly as you move a bit closer. The way he shifts to subtly squeeze his thighs together.

You smile, feeling your eyes darken and your heart begin to pound.

"Okay, maybe I fibbed a little. What, or who, I really missed was you."

It didn't take long for Jeff to push you into his car, unbuckling and unzipping your pants eagerly. Lips slotted together with yours as you practically rip his pants off of him, drawing him onto your semi-clothed lap and groaning at the feel of his bare cunt pressing against your length.

He doesn't even wait for himself to get all that wet, doesn't need to. Already soaked and dripping from his pink cunt, delicious curly blonde bush slicked down from sweat and arousal. His shaking hand guiding you up and against his hole.

Both of you groan into each other's mouths as he sinks down, down, down. Ass flush against your thighs, walls a warm vice around your cock.

"Fuck, you fit perfect-" He gasps out, holding onto your shoulders for purchase. Guttural moan flying past his lips as you hold his hips in place and jackhammer up into him.

"Been wanting you like this for years. Never had the chance back then, so I'm not wasting any time now." You growl out, kissing and nipping against his jaw. Wanting him covered in your marks, want to fill his cunt with your spend. Want to claim him in every way you can because you refuse to let him slip from your fingers again.

"Wait — fuck — slow down!" He cries out, cunt so slick you're sure it's audible outside of the car. But do you slow down? No. He's not in pain, he's just close.

You can feel it with the way his walls spasm, feel it in the way he gets wetter and wetter. Feel it in the way his blunt nails are digging into your shoulders at each sloppy thrust. Pink lips all puffy and red, slack with spit, eyes all glazed over.

He's about to go stupid from your dick.

You bring your hand to his cocklet, thumbing at the sensitive tip and seeing the way he goes wide-eyed.

Fuck.

He screams your name, tears slipping down his cheeks as his hips buck like wild while his walls spasm and milk your length. His body going taut as he throws his head back, flooding your lap with his juices.

Fuck.

With a few weak pumps of your hips, you spill into him. Pulling him down flush against your lap, even as jolts of aftershocks run through him. Cunt so tight it almost hurts as it clamps down.

MEOW :3c

I love that🙏 I got the wosrt habit of repeating things characters say😭

AHHHHH A JEFF FIC IN MY INBOX🥺WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?!? THANK YOU SM FOR BLESSING MY EYES!! His character is on point😭 Just the thought of rekindling a relationship with Jeff after like twenty years will forever be ingrained in my brain.

[izzyhandswhore]

Thinking abt season 2 Izzy x Reader where after everything w Izzy’s leg Reader will sneak down into his room and just comfort him and hold him, just coddle him a bit bc he deserves it<//3

((I too am thinking about this :) Don’t ask me what’s going on with the format bcs I have no idea))

Comforting Izzy in Season Two, pre-Unicorn.

• It starts with you and the crew watching as Izzy painfully and drunkenly crawls down the corridor after sawing the unicorn’s legs off. It shatters your already broken heart to see him suffering like this, but you know any attempts to follow him would be futile. Then you feel the eyes of the crew burn into you next and white hot shame rubs through you. You should know what to do, you know Izzy better than almost anyone, you’re the one he lets in and cares about.. Or you were. With tears in your eyes, you simply walk away.

• You can’t sleep that night. You and the crew have started construction on Izzy’s new leg but your anxiety prevents you from being excited. What if he hates you it? What if you get it wrong again? Heart hammering, you get up. You can’t take it anymore, you just need to see him.

• Before you can even knock on his door you can hear him talking to himself. He’s drunk, obviously, slurring his words and cursing himself and Ed and the sea and any other poor fucker he can think of.. Though notably, you’re not included in his hit list. Knocking on the door just earns you a “fuck off!” but you persist. “Izzy, it’s me,” you call quietly. Silence follows. You let yourself in.

• The stench of alcohol hits you like a ton of bricks but you don’t care. You only care about the haggard, broken man who’s sat on the bed, glaring at you, swaying slightly despite the sea being calm. You start to approach. “Thought I told you to fuck off,” he spits, stopping you in your tracks. You only have to give him a stern look to take the wind from his sails. He averts his eyes like a naughty schoolboy and mutters, “what d’ya want?”

• You’ve brought him some warm water and a washcloth along with a few other supplies. He protests a little at first but eventually lets you strip him of his dirty clothes and gently wash away the grime he’s let build up. He closes his eyes and leans against the wall, head lolling a little as he focuses on your warm, gentle touch rather than his aching body for a bit. In his drunken haze he thinks about how much he’s missed this, how much he’s missed you. The words just won’t string together and come out somehow, making him feel more ashamed. He was supposed to be the one taking care of you, not the other way round.. Just how the fuck did it come to this?

• When you reach his leg he snaps to attention and grabs your wrist, holding it tight. You look up at him expecting anger but instead you just find shame.

“Don’t,” he grunts, “you don’t have to touch it.”

“I won’t if you don’t want me to,” you assure him, “but it might be good to just check it’s alright.. You know, after you fell earlier.”

He scoffs and automatically reaches for the rum again, letting go of your wrist. “Bet the crew fucking loved that..” he mutters, earning another sad look from you.

“They’re worried about you,” you tell him, “everything you did for them hasn’t gone unnoticed, you know. Everyone knows how much they owe to you, how much you - you sacrificed.”

A heavy silence falls over the room once more as he processes the information and you do your best not to get emotional. You can’t even imagine what Izzy’s going through, what happened between him and Ed behind closed doors.. You focus on carefully unwrapping the bandages around what’s left of his leg. A couple of stitches have split and are crusted with blood, but it’s nothing serious. You get to work cleaning and redressing everything. Izzy doesn’t even flinch. Whether he’s numbed by the alcohol or exhaustion, you’re not quite sure.

• When you’re finally done you pull back and dare to smile at him. You ask if he’s feeling a bit better and, though he sneers at first, he eventually nods and admits that he does. You even get a thank you.

• Then comes the awkward part. You and Izzy haven’t slept in the same bed together since Stede abandoned Ed. You want more than anything for things to go back to normal but you know that’s probably a long way off. You point out the obvious.

“You should sleep, Iz.”

He laughs and holds up the near-empty rum bottle. “I will,” he says, “eventually.”

You bite back a sarcastic comment and just sigh, pulling back the blanket and fluffing the pillow, willing to play this little pantomime for as long as he’ll let you. He grumbles something about you not being his fucking mother, but there’s no venom in it. He lets you guide him under the covers and finally put the bottle down. You perch on the edge of the bed, knowing now you really should leave, but you just can’t. You need to find any excuse, any reason to stay just that bit longer. Just when you’re about to give one, he reaches out and gently holds your hand.

“It hasn’t escaped my notice either,” he murmurs, eyes glassy and sincere, “how much you’ve done for me. Even before all this shit, back when we first met Bonnet, I -“ His voice breaks. “I was a fucking dick. And you stood up for me and I - “ He’s getting worked up now, shaking you to your core. You’ve never seen him like this. “I didn’t know this was going to happen. I didn’t know Ed - “

“Shh..” You hush him, squeezing his hand, “you are not responsible for that man’s actions, Iz. At all.” Anger seeps into your voice before you can stop it. “You didn’t deserve to be hurt like this.”

He just stares at you, his chest heaving with sobs that he refuses to let out.

You decide you don’t care to hesitate anymore. You kick off your boots and slide in beside him, taking him in your arms where he belongs. He doesn’t protest and just quietly cries into your shoulder, clinging to your shirt like it’s a lifeline. You stroke back his damp hair and pepper kisses along his forehead, assuring him over and over again that it’s all okay. No one’s ever going to hurt him like that again because you won’t fucking let them. You both know that in the life of piracy promises like that are fragile, but right now neither of you care. This is the safest he’s felt in a long, long time and he doesn’t have the strength to pass it up. Eventually his sobs dissolve to quiet sniffles and you feel his body start to relax against yours.

“You don’t have to stay,” he whispers.

You just smile and hold him even tighter.

“I know.”