#chairs at fucking angles. stuff in the sink

[theresa-of-liechtenstein]

the common area of apartment is such a fucking mess it's taking all i've got not to just clean it up for them considering today i (1) discovered i probably have an ear infection and that my school doesn't take my insurance so i can get meds to fix it so i'm just going to have to suffer through and hope i don't die or something (2) did two hours of SEM training (3) practiced violin (4) went to work and a class and (5) went to orchestra. i am not cleaning up their fucking mess god bless

[ozzgin]

Hello!

🌟 here again! I'm here with another request for our lovely bodyguard yandere.

Have you ever seen videos of fans jumping up onto stages with kpop idols? Then get carried away by security behind stage?

I'd love to see how our lovely violent baby girl would react to not being able to react with immediate violence as a reaction given all the eyes and cameras on him. Would he be stone faced just carrying the stage crasher by the collar like a cat? Or would he be dragging him by the legs into hell?

The reactions of fans to the bodyguard would be interesting too, I could see Reader being jealous over people thirsting over bodyguard on Twitter or something lol. Or bodyguard confused on why people would say stuff like "he could snap my back like a twig and I'd say thank you" about him.

Hope you are taking care, and I have my fingers crossed to hear from you eventually

Sincerely

-🌟

Long overdue and I'm terribly sorry about that! I had the ideas for a while now, but I could never find the proper words to assemble everything. ;-;

Yandere! Bodyguard x Idol! Reader (III)

Your bodyguard has gained sudden Internet fame after dealing with a crazed fan on stage. Naturally, he couldn't care less about anyone else, but that doesn't stop you from trying to make him jealous in return. Someone will have to be the sacrificial lamb to his murderous possessiveness.

Content: female reader, obsessive behavior, violence, death, reader and yandere are both psycho

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

The screen of your phone lights up again and you only need a quick glance to know what it is. Another post about last night’s event. About your bodyguard. You sink your nails into the leather chair and look ahead towards the mirror, exchanging a smile with the hairstylist.

“Oh, it looks lovely! You always do such a great job.” You compliment the woman as you tilt your head both ways, admiring the gentle curls. Now get the fuck out already.

“I’m so glad! Is there anything else you’d like me to-”

“No, that’s all. You can go”, you respond curtly.

The stylist collects her products and waves at you, exiting the room. The phone vibrates once more with a new notification, and you promptly throw it against the door. It scatters in large chunks of scrap across the plush carpet.

The whole ordeal happened within seconds. You were performing the final song of the evening when a fan hurled himself over the security barrier and onto the stage. The people standing at the very front began screaming and some took their phones out, scrambling for a good angle to record everything.

“Please, (Y/N), I’m your biggest fan!” the man pleaded, approaching you with shaking hands.

You froze in place, observing his actions with the same indifference of watching a TV ad that goes on for too long. Before the stranger could even reach your proximity, your bodyguard effortlessly and speedily threw him over the shoulder, giving you a reassuring nod and retreating backstage. He had that smile on his face that signaled he was pissed, and your mouth hung open in realization: You wouldn’t be able to witness the massacre.

You knew that expression all too well. That man would never see the light of day again, and under normal circumstances you would be right behind your bodyguard, cheering him on and suggesting ways to further torment of whoever dared to get too close to you.

And yet, your little ritual had been interrupted. You stood there on the stage, baffled, as the other idols gathered around you with worried looks. You poor thing. That must’ve been terrifying. The audience was shouting words of support, encouraging you to continue as if nothing happened. With pursed lips, you tightened your grip around the microphone and reassured everyone of your well-being. The show had to go on, regardless of your bloodlust.

This morning, you woke up to hundreds of posts online about the incident. Or rather, the way your bodyguard dealt with it. You scrolled through photos, videos, and confessions regarding the mysterious stranger who protected you from harm.

“I need a man like that in my life!”, “I know, right? So cool!”, “Imagine how easily he’d pick you up”, “The broad shoulders! I’m in love <3”

You don’t even have time to be properly upset about it. Your schedule for the day is packed with interviews and photoshoots. You glance in the mirror one final time and exit the room. The bodyguard has been waiting for you, resting against the wall with crossed arms.

“I need a new phone”, you tell him in a casual tone.

“What happened to the previous one?” He inquires, somewhat confused by your sudden request.

“Just do it!” You snap at the large man, rushing past him without providing any window for a reaction.

Ideally, you would very much like to tell him that the sudden influx of attention irritates you beyond comprehension. Then he’d reassure you that his indifference towards everyone else has not changed whatsoever, and thus your worries are entirely unfounded; but, if you need an outlet to release all that stress, he can easily find an empty changing room and service you like he always does.

Unfortunately, there is no time for that.

The bodyguard follows your movements with raised eyebrows, perplexed. What could’ve gotten you into such a sour mood? Has someone caused you to be upset? Are you still pouting after the missed playtime? He ponders the possibilities as he searches for an assistant.

The employee is visibly startled upon hearing his deep voice calling her. She turns obediently and nods, flashing her best customer-facing smile.

“Can you get (Y/N) a new phone?” he asks plainly.

“Huh? Sure…Did she specify any preferences? What was her previous model?”

He stares in confusion.

“…Can’t you guess?” she insists.

“I’m not good with these things.” The bodyguard rummages through his pocket and pulls out an old, cracked device to prove his point. “I don’t use phones much.”

Why would he? The only time he needs a phone is when he’s apart from you, which hasn’t happened since the Christmas incident. He previously considered a more modern option, so he could stalk your social media and make sure you don’t have any perverts sliding into your messages. That proved to be unnecessary, as you frequently leave your phone unattended or involve him in the process: most of your photos posted online nowadays are actually curated by his truly.

“Oh, so you don’t know about the recent craze?” The woman chuckles and takes out her own phone, speedily tapping on the screen before presenting it to the man. “See? You’re trending!”

He scans the multitude of messages. Ah, so that’s what it was. His lips curl into a grin. To think he’d witness his spoiled idol struggle with jealousy.

“That will be it for today!” the photographer announces, gesturing with his hands and guiding his helpers with the expensive equipment.

This was it, the last photoshoot. You unscrew the cap from your water bottle and take a healthy sip from it, wiping the sweat off your forehead with your other hand. The only good part about the continuous work was that you couldn’t check more of those annoying posts drooling over your bodyguard. Remembering it is enough to increase your heartbeat. The male model you were paired with for this campaign walks in your direction.

“Say, do you have anything planned after this?” He questions smugly. “You could come back to my place.”

What a ridiculous idea, you think with a grimace. Does this asshat think he’s worthy of your company? After a second of contemplation, you’re flooded with the same disappointment you felt back on the stage, watching your fan being carried away like a mere piece of cardboard over the much larger frame of your bodyguard. You might just consider the stupid offer. Why not? It’s not fair to be the only one plagued by jealousy.

“Sure. I know a better place, though.”

Your eyes narrow in a bright smile and you lead the young man towards your backstage room. As you pass by your bodyguard, you remember to mention in a low voice: “Make sure no one disturbs us.” He doesn’t answer, merely gazes at you with an empty expression.

“Man, that guy is scary as hell”, the model remarks as he throws himself in your vanity seat. “Are you not afraid to be alone with him?”

“Not really, no”, you respond idly. “You, on the other hand…”

“Excuse me?”

Now then. To set the scene, you gingerly climb into the man’s lap and adjust your arms around his neck. What a frail little human in comparison to your bodyguard. You blush in anticipation and begin counting in your head.

“H-hey, what did you mean-”

The young man is interrupted by someone’s abrupt intrusion. Your bodyguard throws you a quick glance before turning to close the door behind him. Alright, he can’t be too excited. He must pretend he’s furious, baffled, out for the hunt. You went all the way out for him. He even checked his watch to make sure you had enough time. He can’t let his enthusiasm betray him.

You jump out of the model’s hold with a gasp.

“It’s not what you think~!” you exclaim with feigned surprise. “He started flirting with me and I…” Your words trail off and you rub your arm nervously.

The bodyguard approaches the other man with monotonous movements and grabs him by the collar.

“Wait, you can’t possibly…he’s a well-known model!”, you protest with a fake cry.

Sweet little darling. Worry not, he won’t disappoint you. He’ll put on the best show for your sake. Anything to soothe your innocent heart.

“Could be the President himself”, your bodyguard confesses with a dash of theatrics, “and I’d still break his fucking neck for touching you.” He pulls out his pocketknife and looks at you. “I’ll deal with you in a moment, Miss.”

Your knees weaken and you have to rest against the vanity table. Among the screams and pleads for mercy coming from the poor butchered model, you can only focus on one thing: the violent fucking you’re about to receive.

Your bodyguard truly knows you best.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the bouquet

lilac, chapter six

a/n: those kind of wet dreams are the best for real... like a fucking spell has been put on you, damn....

summary: “they should really put a warning up on those, plucking flowers is a dangerous thing.”

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, smut, lumberjack AU, pete castiglione era, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, slow burn, renovating an inn, no work gloves this time purely for the slutty need of hands, patching up a porch, wet dream, masturbation, townies thirsting over frank, pov shift (the end is from frank's), going to a bar, alcohol consumption, lots of pining

word count: 2253

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“H-holy shit,” you blew out a shaky breath as you blinked open your heavy lids to stare up at the ceiling of your bedroom. 

Haven stirred from a dream but moments before, the imagery your mind had coaxed you with had been so intense that you still felt half asleep when you woke. 

Half asleep and dripping wet.

Subconsciously, your hand had crept down below your pyjama pants before you’d even opened your eyes, determined to finish the job your fantasy had started. 

Tangled in the sheets, it felt like you were still dreaming, the powerful and alluring imagery possessing your mind making it impossible not to tremble in want and near the edge faster than you’d thought imaginable. 

But as your body laid there reeling in the afterglow, buzzing pearl sensitive beneath your fingertips, that’s when you truly woke and realised what, or whom, your carnal vision had been about. Who’s touch had felt so real, lips so sweet and words so honeyed… 

Squinting up at the blossoming lilac flowers, the sun shined directly into your eyes as you raised yourself up onto your tip toes to see if you could reach them. The lower ones already plucked and secure in your left fist, your fingertips barely skimmed the deep green leaves on the gnarly branches you were attempting to grasp. 

With an airy huff, you looked around the garden and quickly spotted a weathered fold-up chair that could no doubt grant you the necessary centimetres.

While dragging it over to the right spot underneath the blooming shrub, you feared that the old seat would be too wobbly for you to be able to balance on, though when you tried, it turned out to sink enough down into the grass to make the boost be just stable enough to hold you. 

After snapping a few of the flowers off the branches, you came across one that was much fuller and more striking than the others already in your grasp, though when you tried to give it a firm tug, the unexpected stubbornness of the twig caused you to let out a curse for why you hadn’t brought out a pair of scissors with you. 

“Come on,” you mumbled through your gritted teeth as you yanked at it, eventually leaning back to utilise some of your body weight, though when you did, when your spine reached a curved enough angle, that’s when the damn flower decided to snap off, sending you tumbling down to your doom. 

Though as you let out a shrill yelp, you never managed to hit the ground, as you instead fell into a quick pair of arms. 

“Wow, I’ve got you,” the deep voice alone caused your face to go flush. 

“Uh,” you blinked up into the eyes of the one and only man whom your brain had decided to have a filthy dream about just last night, “h-hi!”

“Are you okay?” his strong grip on your form caused the vivid fantasy to come rushing back with a vengeance.

“Mhm,” you hummed, eyes fluttering hazily, “I’m good, I’m great,” your chest heaved as you then haphazardly raised up the bouquet in your grasp, “you know, just getting some flowers for the tables and stuff…”

“Yeah, I can see that,” an amused cock to his brow swiftly appeared, “I’m gonna put you down now, okay?” he said clearly, in a tone as if you’d hit your head. 

Nodding fuzzily, “okay,” your hands, still tightly wound around the pastel blossoms, rested in support on either side of his broad shoulders long after he’d planted you back down on the ground. 

“You good?” his head dipped to search your features, fiery touch still lingering on your waist a moment longer before it faded away. 

“Yep,” you averted your gaze, awkwardly gesturing up towards the grand shrub, “they should really put a warning up on those, plucking flowers is a dangerous thing,” finally peeling your palms away from his radiating warmth, “but, uh, thank you for catching me.”

Tongue sweeping out in an effort to snuff out his beguiled smile, he gazed down at you and uttered, “any time.” 

“So, um,” you cleared your throat, recalling why he was actually here today, “do you have t-the wood?”

“Yeah, it’s in the truck,” he gestured back over his shoulder towards the façade of the inn where the dirt road ended, widening out into a small patch before the veranda of the building flourished, his loaded vehicle indeed being vaguely visible from back here, “but we don’t have to work on the porch today if you don’t feel up for it.” 

“No, no, I’m ready,” you hastily shook your head, shifting all of the florets into one hand, “there have been giant holes in that thing for as long as I can remember, so I am more than ready to bid them adieu.”

“Great, then I’ll just go get it while you finish this up.”

“Oh, I’m actually done, I was just supposed to get them for my dad,” you then heard yourself adding, “also, I can’t in good conscience make you carry that stuff all alone,” nearly poking him with the bouquet as you implored, “I mean, you’re already helping me out so much around here, it just wouldn’t be fair,” raising up a pleading finger, your feet then began to back up, slowly carrying you towards the backdoor, “just give me one second, let me run in with this real quick and then I’ll be right back.”

As soon as he offered you even a hint of confirmation, your stride took off, rushing indoors, chest heaving as you eventually caught yourself on the kitchen counter, though not from your speedy pace.

Settling the flowers down, your fingers grasped the edge of the cool tabletop, nearly doubling over as you sucked in calming breaths in an attempt to rid your body of the tingling sensations the lingering dream triggered.

When you eventually swung the doors back open, a purposeful shake of your clammy palms on either side of your frame was the last attempt you made to cool down. 

Shoving the passenger side door shut, paint-chipped toolbox acquired and firm in his hand, you walked towards Pete as he unlatched the bed of the truck where lengthy planks of wood lay stacked. 

“Hey,” you hesitantly called out as you neared him, his head rotating at the sound of your voice, “I just wanna apologise again for what happened that day at your cabin…” 

“Christ, not this again,” he set the toolbox down with a heavy clank, “Y/n, you can’t keep doing this.”

“But-”

“No,” he nearly chuckled, “you literally did nothing wrong! One was an accident,” he counted on his fingers, “we’ve already established that, and the other? Sweetheart, that’s not something you should apologise for.”

Brows knit tightly together, you gnawed at the inside of your cheek, “but I cried, like really cried, and dumped all of that shit on you…”

“You didn’t dump anything, you shared,” he countered, “hey, look at me,” dipping his head down to catch your tense vision, he then continued softly, “I know that it was uncomfortable for you, but that doesn’t mean it was wrong,” his wide palm reassuringly found the top of your shoulder, “it’s not wrong to talk about something that’s hard, that’s the kind of shit that helps you move on from it,” searching you edgy expression a moment, his warm touch then faltered in favour of the pile of lumber, sliding one of the long stacks out as he urged light-heartedly, “now shut up and grab the other end of this,” gliding it out far enough for you to grasp the other end. 

After curving halfway around the porch, you halted, “hold up,” fingers screaming out from the way the weight dug into your soft palms, “stop, one second,” you tried to prop your knee up under the many planks, “I just need to hold onto it a little differently.” 

Glancing back at you, “okay,” he muttered before the lumber gingerly swung away from you, careful not to collide with you as he unexpectedly hauled the long and hefty bundle up in a more secure hold on his broad shoulder, “I can also just carry these the rest of the way, if you want,” the nonchalant offer coming out as if the timber didn’t weight a thing at all.

“Uh…” your breath became a thing of the past as your eyes fixated on the way his burly muscles bulged under his rolled-up sleeves.

“I think maybe if you go back and just grab one or two on your own it won’t be such a pain on your hands. I mean, no offence, I’m just–” 

“No, that sounds great, you just–, uh,” your fumbling words cut off his suggestion as your feet already began to drag you back towards his truck, “I’ll go get some–, uhm, yeah…”

Dark hair gently falling down and tickling his brow, Pete’s eyes were fast on the plank under his broad palm as he fastened in two screws, securing the board and gradually patching up the gaping hole on the deck. 

Kneeling as well, your clutch on the other end of the slat didn’t do much in the way of holding it in place. Your whole body felt like jelly as you caught sight of the way the veins on the back of his hand popped out from the stain of pressing down on the buzzing drill, forcing the screw to embed itself into the wood. 

Lips slightly parted, you swore you felt your cunt clench around nothing as you fought the urge to let out an embarrassing whimper. 

Pete’s head barely raised as his index finger slacked its force on the bulky button, unceremoniously passing the power tool to you as he had done a dozen times by now so that you could take care of the task in the other end, “here,” though when you didn’t move to snatch it out of his grasp, his features perked up, “Y/n?” letting out a short whistle in order to snap you out of your trance.

“Yeah?” your pulse thumped between your thighs, “oh, thanks,” giving your head a swift shake before you seized the gimlet and huffed out a big exhale, hoping you weren’t blushing as hard as it felt like you were.

As you clutched the drill, screwing in a few bolts on your side of the porch, a voice from the garden caught your ears.

“You know, my second husband was a carpenter,” you spotted Donna right on the other side of the railing, wafting a bright floral fan mere inches from her amble bosom as if she was some saucy Victorian woman in heat, “I’ve always loved a man who’s good with his hands…”

Her obvious innuendo made you bite down on your grin in order to not burst out a laugh. 

Sucking in a controlled and mildly impatient breath, Pete averted his gaze and uttered formally, “hello ma'am.” 

“It’s awfully chilly these nights, don’t you think?” the rotund woman continued to brashly bat her eyelashes at him, “perhaps you could personally come fill up my stack of firewood? Help warm me up a bit?”

“Ma'am, I already informed you before,” he kept his tone polite yet detached, “I don’t do deliveries, I just drop firewood off at the market, but perhaps someone there could help bring some to you.”

Pushing the doors open to the unacquainted roadside bar Frank found himself at, he had no idea how long he’d been driving for, simply that the sky had turned black long after he reached uncharted land in his desperate attempt at clearing his foggy mind.

“Evening,” the proprietor greeted him as he slumped down at the bar, “what can I get you?”

“Just a beer,” Frank answered distantly, his head elsewhere as it had unfortunately become acquainted with ever since nothing short of an angel had walked into his life. 

“You’ve got it,” the bartender swiftly reached down into one of the compact coolers hiding back there and conjured an emerald flask, popping the lid off with an opener at his belt just before he slid it across the counter towards him, “here you are.”

Offering a courteous nod, “thanks,” Frank then began to drown his sorrows. 

The establishment was mostly empty, only he and one other customer on the other side of the bar acted as its sole patrons. 

“Hey,” the other man soon barked, “can I get a refill over here?” he lifted up his stout glass and tapped a ringed finger against the side, “and from the top shelf this time, I don’t want any more of this cheap hillbilly shit you try and call whiskey.” 

When the bartender obliged, unable to hide how visibly peeved the rude customer made him feel, Frank’s eye line followed the proprietor’s movements as he served up the drink, still lazily fixated as he handed it off into the boorish man’s inked hand. Swiftly downing it as he rose from his tall stool, Frank’s tired vision momentarily got a chance to rest on the reptilian tattoo that decorated the back of the stranger's right hand. His sharp suit rose up ever so slightly to reveal that the striking design curled even higher on his tan skin than what was visible, before he promptly slammed it back down, along with crumbled compensation, and left, the sound of a garish engine soon acting as his last and final farewell.

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[luvyeni]

YUTA DRABBLE !

pairings. tattooartist!yuta x fem!reader

🔖: 18+ , unprotected sex , breeding kink , cigarette smoking ,

authors note ! authors note ! this is for the 6k drabble special , you can read all of them here !

you opened the doors to the shop , smiling at the boy who sat in the front. "hello , mark , yuta in the back?" he nodded. "yup , you finally gonna show him your surprise." you nodded. "well , im gonna on break , go ahead to the back."

you went straight to his office , opening the door. "yuta?" he looked up from his drawing , smiling at you. "hi babygirl , what are you doing here?" you held the bag of food in your hand out. "my baby brought me lunch , how cute is that." you sat it down , straddling his lap.

"you look so cute today , who are you getting all pretty for?" he squeezed your waist making you squeal. "stop it , i wore this because i have something to show you , my surprise." his eyebrow quirked. "the surprise i waited 2 weeks for?" you nodded , he smirked , leaning back in the chair. "go on and show me babygirl."

you unbuttoned the dress , letting it fall. "babygirl , what did you do?" you felt his cock starting to harden , pressing against your cunt. "hold on , be patient." you slowly reached to undo your bra , letting it fall , finally showing yuta what you'd been hiding.

"oh baby , you did this for me?" he ran his fingers over the tattoo of his name under your boob. "yup , you have my name , so i wanted to do the same." you looked so hot but so innocent , everything off but your panties , sitting on top of his cock. "and who did it princess?" he pinched one of your nipples , making you whine.

"i-i got jo-johnny to do it." he grabbed your hip , grinding into you. "m'wanted to surprise you." you whimpered , your need for your boyfriends cock growing. "you know , i don't like the guys looking at what's mine , but since you gave me such a nice present , i'll it slide."

"yu-yuta , i need more." he sat you the desk , pulling his pants down , his cock springing out , slapping against his stomach. "come on pretty baby , come sit on my cock." you climbed back in his lap , hovering over his cock.

"oh-oh my god." you moaned , sinking down on his cock , filling you up. "that's it , sit on my fat cock baby." he grunted , you were fully sat , his cock hitting a different angle in this position. "come on , ride it like a good girl." you moved your hips.

he picked up a cigarette off the table , sticking it between his teeth , lighting it , taking a long drag , you hated the way they smelled , but you always thought he looked hot. "so cute baby, when i first met you , you could barely look me in the eye." he smirked , taking another drag. "now look at ya , bouncing on my cock like a cute bunny , after getting my name tattooed on your pretty skin." you moaned , holding on to his shoulders.

"this means we're together forever now , your pussy is mine now." you clenched at his words. "-fuck- babygirl , you like that , you wanna be mines forever?" he groaned. "ye-yes wanna be yours forever yuta. " he put the cigarette out , grabbing your hips fucking up into you faster.

"sh-shit , yuta im gonna cum , please cum inside me , please." you begged. "that's what you want -shit- for me to cum inside you , stuff your little pussy with my cum." he pinched your nipples.

"ye-yes please -fuck!- im cumming." you screamed , legs shaking as you came around him , a white base forming around his cock , he felt his orgasm approaching , "gonna cum , you gonna take my cum." you viciously nodded. "then take it baby -shit- take my cum like a good girl.." he pushed your hips down , cum filling up your cunt. he stood up , pushing all his stuff to the floor , laying you down on the desk.

"fuck , i don't give a fuck about that next appointment i need to see your stomach bulging from my cum."

©️LUVYENI

[viburnt]

Leopard! Dabi Headcanons (Hybrid! AU)

Someone had requested this on my asks, but TUMBLR WAS A BITCH AND UPLOADED THE WRING THING. Anyhow, hoping this reaches that person. Please enjoy!

CONTENT WARNING: NSFW 🔞, mentions of breeding

• Leopards are opportunistic hunters, and they use their particular appearance to disguise themselves and surprise the prey they've targeted. Sounds a little familiar? Perhaps it is because it's something Dabi does. Touya Todoroki joined Shigaraki as Dabi, a false identity he created to take revenge on Endeavor; he didn't join Shigaraki because he supported his plans, but because he needed things he could provide like the resources and a team.

• Something very curious about this species is how they have variants according to the environment. We have grey/white snow leopards, yellow ones, and black ones too! It's befitting considering how Dabi's appearance has changed over the years: white-haired kid, black-haired villain. A snow leopard and a panther.

• Depending on when you meet him, you could either find deep black fur on his tail and ears, or you could still see his white fur. He also has a pair of large canines that you can see whenever he grins or when his anger is too much to handle.

• It is also a thing that leopards have super soft fur on their lower abdomen so... happy trail. Oh! Claws, by the way; my take on this is that Touya might've been declawed as a cub to avoid "hurting himself more" than he already did with his quirk.

• Leopards are also very active during most of the day, always on the lookout for prey. Leopard! Dabi is also plotting against heroes and his father most of the time. He's part of a very solitary species, not exactly forming bonds like other big cats such as lions. They get company, however, when it's time to mate.

• Leopard! Dabi is not the most talkative version of Dabi, he still is a cocky bastard, but he finds it hard to talk to you. So, naturally, when ruts happen, there's no verbal warning. Touya starts playing a little rough with you whenever he feels the need to breed you, pushing and pulling teasingly until he has you where he wants you: couch, bed, chairs, counters, floor...

• Touya often relies on body language to let you know you're his (even when he's not the most affectionate partner). He also has a thing for napping all over your clothes and messing with your stuff (say bye to your food, he'll leave the fridge empty).

• His go-to position is prone bone because of how similar it is to the leopard's mating technique. He bites your neck whenever he's buried deep inside your guts (cat things), groaning and growling whispered "Fucks!" And "Tight!". Regardless of if he can breed you or not, he always stays inside you for a few more moments to avoid his cum to drip out of you.

• His rut lasts around 2 or 3 days, and he can go as many times as he needs until he satiates the itch inside his body. If he somehow knocks you up, you'll have to put that cat on a leash or something, because no feline species stay with their cubs at all. Hates when people pulls his tail.

A wanton moan escapes your lips, feeling Touya sink his teeth into the tender flesh of your thighs. You can see him looking at your face from your angle, legs locked open as he meets your sensitive core with his tongue. "You told me to clean the mess... Don't look at me like that now." The man purrs, licking his lips with a teasing grin. "I'm gonna pull that tail of yours one day, see who's laughing- Oh, fuck!"

"Mhm, you're all talk now. But when I'm breeding you? You seem to be speechless." He murmurs, lapping you once more. "Dumb cat."

"Love you too."

Tagging: @trickster-kat @doumadono @shonen-brainrot @shionancientsblog @dabislittlemouse

[constesplanetarium]

☼⚠︎ Yandere Stalker/Kidnapper x Gn! AFAB! Reader (Part 2)

Darkness rating ) 7/10: “Feel that shiver up your spine?”

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

part 1 is here!

my friend wanted me to write another one ;) SHAME HER NOT ME!!!!

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT.

This work contains potentially sensitive content to some. Please be careful.

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

CONTENT WARNINGS!!!

Violence, aggression, and drugging.

Word count: Around 1.8k

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

“Say ‘aah’!” The piece of food stuck on the fork hits your lips, and you scowl at him. What if he poisoned it? Drugged it? It’s not like he’s afraid of drugging you since he’s done it before. He pouts and scoots his chair in front of you a bit closer to yours, his knees bumping into the front of your chair. The ropes around your wrists are getting more irritating, and at this point you would’ve preferred duct tape. Why the hell is he trying to be nice to you in the first place?

If he wanted to fuck you, just get on with it.

“Aw, c’mon baby, you know you have to eat.” You don’t even know his name. “I made it just for you! You don’t want to eat? Not at all?” It is a little tempting. The food looks and smells delicious, and he’s making it a point to hold the plate near you, so the steam goes all in your face. Luckily, your fear overrides the need to eat at the moment. “Pleaseee? It’s good, I promise it is! Look.” He stuffs the food in his mouth and starts to chew, not breaking eye contact with you for even a moment. He stabs up some more food onto the fork, and holds it up to your mouth again, wagging the fork around a bit, as if to entice you. He swallows the food he had just ate and smiles. “See? C’mon and take a bite.”

No.

No.

No.

You glare at him and shake your head slowly, muttering a small curse about how you think about him and his food.

Honestly, his food can get thrown in the trash, and him too for all you care.

His smile drops on almost an instant. “Open your mouth.” He snaps, and you shake your head in a refusal. You’re not eating that shit.

The plates suddenly dropped onto your naked lap, the hot ceramic slowly stinging your skin as you wince. He aggressively grabs your face and shakes it side to side, the stinging getting even worse as you cry out in pain. “Look how nice I've been treating you, baby. I can be a lot more meaner than this, you know? Open your mouth.” The hot food is practically shoved in your mouth, the fork almost stabbing into your cheek. Your legs start to shake as you try to shove the scalding plate off, but he takes the plate off for you, only slightly. You guess he doesn’t want the food to spill. The ceramic still stings your skin as he holds it at an angle. “Chew it.” You almost don’t do what he asks, but you can see how angry he’s getting. He might stab you again if you aren’t careful. You start to chew the food, and it surprises you on how good it really tastes. But you aren’t going to give him that satisfaction.

His face shifts back to a smile and he sits back down in the chair. “Good, huh?” He slides the plate back into his hand, setting down a piece of cloth to prevent it from heating his lap up. His cold hand rubs your thigh affectionately, trying to comfort you from his own mistake. “I have to make sure you eat, okay? You were asleep for a… A while.” After that, he giggles and takes some more food on a fork, holding up to your mouth. “Aaah.” You open your mouth this time, and you get to watch his face light up as you start to chew. With some hesitance, you swallow and he nods. “Good job, baby! Eat it all up, okay?”

After your meal, he cleans your mouth with the cloth and plants a small kiss on your lips, walking back up the stairs for quite some time as you hear the water of the sink run. The light of the world above looks so distant now, and you already miss the feeling of waking up this morning in your own bed. You miss being able to walk free. You bite your tongue in an attempt to stop the tears from welling up in your eyes. The thought of him kissing your tears away is terrible. You’re able to pull yourself back together by the time he comes back down, locking the door behind him.

“Okay, baby, so I did some thinking while I was washing the dishes.” He chirps over, sitting in his chair. His hands are really fidgety. “It might be too early for this but,” Oh my god. What now? “I want to let you out of the chair, really, really bad.” With a small sigh, he gets up, holding you by the shoulders as he towers over you. “But I know you’re going to run away. I'm not stupid.” He frowns and leans down, kissing your forehead. “So let's do this.” He vanishes behind you for a few moments, rummaging through a drawer noisily. You can only imagine what he-

Oh my god. Oh.

It's a needle. A syringe. A fucking drug, oh my god, no way. Your voice comes out as a short sob and you choke up in fear as he flicks the syringe and pushes up, a small droplet forming of the clear liquid. What the hell is in there? What is it, what is it, what is it, what is it, what is it

“This’ll just make you feel a little sleepy and sluggish, so you can’t run.” He finally looks down at you and frowns. “Isn’t the chair uncomfy? You don’t want to come out and lay on the bed with me?” No, no, no, no, no, no, no, please oh my god. No way. You shake your head, everything crashing down on you at once. You stammer out a short, quiet refusal and he scowls. “Well, how am I supposed to take you out of the chair then? Hmm.”

After a few seconds of silence, he shakes his head and smiles. “Not the whole thing, just a little.” With a whisper and a kiss, he pushes the needle a bit in your arm and you tear your gaze away, breathing in and through your mouth as you try to calm down. He pulls out the needle after a bit of time and he waves the syringe in your face for a moment, and you get a look on how much is still in there. About half. At least he didn’t lie about that.

“It’ll just take a second to kick in.” He says in a sing-voice, walking behind you to grab something you don’t know. Ah, oh… You already feel funny. You don’t make an effort to fight back as he loosens the ropes at your wrists and ankles. You’re lifted off your feet as he carries you bridal-style to the bed in the corner, setting you down. Ugh.

You can barely think straight.

You feel him tie the ropes back around your wrists and ankles, but you can barely keep your eyes open to protest. The bed droops next to you, and you're met with a blurry sight as he lays down next to you, a book in hand. Did he take it from the drawer from your nightstand?

“Do you want me to read to you?” He says softly, rubbing your cheek affectionately. You can’t even respond. All he does is nod, and goes back to his book, flipping to the first page. “I’ll read you chapter by chapter every night. This is one of my favorites, a childhood book of mine.” He chuckles, and starts.

“‘Once I was six years old, I saw a magnificent picture in a book, called the True Stories from Nature, about the primeval forest.’” He has such a nice voice. “‘It was a picture of a boa constrictor in the act of swallowing an animal. Here is a copy of the drawing.’” He flips the book around and leans down, showing you the drawing. All you can see are the blurry shades of orange and gray of it, and you smile weakly in an attempt to please him. He adjusts himself and plants a warm kiss on your cheek, saying something that you can no longer comprehend, as you finally pass out, the softness of the pillow under your head becoming too overwhelmingly comfortable.

Your body takes a while to adjust to being awake again, your vision still a bit blurry. You hear some shuffling of someone far away and finally take in your surroundings properly. It looks like he decided that just wrapping your ankles wasn’t enough, and decided to wrap some extra rope around the bed frame too, keeping you in place. You watch him push the chair you were just in to a corner of the room, a song playing on a small radio on the dinner table. Sounds like it’s an old style jazz song.

… What’s his name?

“Hmm?” He turns around, and his face lights up at the sight of you again. “Oh, you’re awake! You fell asleep while I was reading, you know?” He says, trotting over to the radio as he shuts it off. "We'll have to start over tomorrow night, but it's not like we got far anyway." Luckily, it doesn't seem like he's mad. “Uhm, my name, my name…” Your eyes flicker up to his as he takes a seat next to you. It looks like he’s struggling to smile. “Just call me ‘Darling’ for now, okay? Or anything else you’d like.”

How about Idiot? Asshole? Dickhead? You scowl at the affectionate nickname he gave himself and snuggle your head back into your pillow, looking away. A small laugh and a kiss on your cheek lets you know he isn’t mad at your rejection. "Aww, you're so cute baby. I could just eat you." Because of yesterday's show, you aren't sure if he's joking or being serious.

“I love you, so, so much."

i wanna make the next part darker ;) expect smth crazy

[peri-helia]

No use crying over spilt milk

Joe x Nicky Secret Agent AU

It’s a milk run, really.

Get in, make the drop and get out again. Something he’s done a million times, even in time sensitive situations.

Joe just has to make sure that Nicky doesn’t try to do the dishes before tomorrow morning. Under the kitchen sink isn’t one of his usual places of concealment, but he doesn’t want to risk Quynh or Nile finding any of his weapons under the sofa bed’s slats or in the guest room. So he’ll move his stuff, pry Nicky away from doing the dishes with kisses and convincing him that it’s okay to leave the pans to soak, just this once. Then he’ll extract everything while Nicky and Nile are on their morning run.

See? Easy.

He’s just nudging the cupboard door open with the toe of his boot, arms full, when there’s a rattling sound from inside the cupboard and the door springs open, the familar sound of weaponry thudding to the floor as a barrage of knives, and a couple of handguns fall out of the cupboard and skid across the floor around him.

Which. Are not his.  

What.

What.

Had Andy done an inventory and forgot to tell him? Stacking them haphazardly like this was normally Booker’s sort of thing -

There’s the light, rapid tread of someone running down the hall, of Nicky running down the hall towards the noise and towards trouble just like always and it’s all Joe can do to shout, “I can explain!”

Arms full of his Spare Bedroom Stash, standing on one leg in front of the kitchen sink was not how he figured he’d tell his husband he was a spy but to be honest he’d sort of not thought about it and just hoped for the best.

Christ, Booker’s really rubbing off on him.

“I can explain!” Nicky repeats, repeats – What the actual fuck - as he rounds the corner, hands raised.

“Uh – I” Nicky’s eyes dart from the mess on the floor to Joe’s weapon laid arms and back again. His face cycles through expressions too fast for even Joe to read them, but there’s flashes of panic, confusion and worry there. Everything Joe’s feeling right now, basically. 

Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthe

“What the fuck do you mean you can explain?!”

Nicky can’t even slice an onion without supervision, he forgot to take the knife guard off when they visited Booker’s family for dinner two weeks ago, Joe remembers hysterically, what the fuck is he doing with all this.

Nicky takes a deep, calming breath that comes out vaguely shuddery, his shoulders still somewhere about his ears, gaze resolutely fixed on Joe’s face. “Yusuf.” Oh fuck, not good. Can be very good in the will you spend the rest of eternity with me or the I’m going to pretend I am not going to let you talk me into spending all day in bed again way. But this is more of the Quynh’s ship went down. Andy’s stitches that Nicky thinks is from an appendectomy have re-opened sort of way. “Yusuf, habibi, would you sit down? Please?”

Joe puts the weaponry on the kitchen table, thinking about what a mad tableau this makes, the two of them sitting at the kitchen table, a pile of weaponry between them. Nicky quietly takes the opposing chair, sighing to himself when Joe doesn’t sit. Joe notices absently that Nicky takes the chair that is between Joe and the door, but angles it slightly so that he can see it too, the way he always does, even here, even at home.  

“I suppose I should start with the fact that – um, well, I’m not an translator”

Joe blinks because of course Nicky is a translator. He forever sits at this very table, earphones jammed over his ears, listening quietly. He starts ordering his coffee in one language and finishes it in another. He corrects the poor subtitles on Netflix, with a quiet mutter of ‘that’s not what they’re saying’, eyes flitting over the actors’ mouths as his brow furrows. There are notebooks and notebooks filled with his transcriptions. But, but all Nicky’s work comes from his laptop – the work laptop he has to use an app to open, not from his notebooks and – oh, oh God

 His eyes catch at Nicky’s own, those beautiful oceanic eyes, all big and pleading and Joe’s brain starts back on its track of whatthefuckwhatthefuck, the grip of his Beretta digging painfully into the meat of his palm. Nicky’s still talking.

“Joe? Tesoro, I really wish you would sit down. I –“ his Adam’s apple bobs, “di immortals is not an translation firm, it’s a front for my team, Quynh’s team and the whole me not being able to cook thing is a lie, a painful one but I'm too good with it and you'd have known and – I don’t own throwing stars” Nicky stops, mouth open, eyes trained on Joe’s hands.

Joe becomes painfully aware of the crick developing where his little finger is hooked though said throwing stars that Andy had got him for the Sao Paulo job years ago, just because he’d said there were cool and he’d wanted to learn. Because Andy’s the best.

“Of course not – these are mine!” It comes out somewhere between indignant, proud and enthused.

Well. Fuck.

This was not how he’d pictured this going at all.

[ashisgreedy]

🔞Andrew Larson

Thanks to Cheeses post, I got thirsty

Tying Andrew to a chair and making him watch, all blusy faced, while you strip infront of him. He's trembling but he cant take his eyes off you. With every new piece of clothing you remove, he breathes heavier.

He's new to all this kinky stuff you want to do with him but hes also very willing to try anything and everything with you. He will try it even if it embarrasses him (tho he secretly kinda likes that)

When you're finally naked, you walk over to him and slide into his lap. His hands are bound behind his back and you take full advantage of feeling him up, undoing his shirt, and groping his erection.

He can't form words. Andrew's eyes rake over your nude from and they grow wider when you grind your body against his. He whimpers at the sweet friction and lets his head fall back. This gives you a chance to kiss all over his neck, and lick the spots that drive him mad. Leave some small hickies just below his ear and listen to him pant while your lips latch onto his sensative skin.

Your lips move all over his neck while your hips rock against his. He whispers "Please....." so quietly. You tell him to use his words "Please what?" you tease him. His face grows impossibly red and he doesn't continue. His shyness keeps him from saying what he wants and leaves him at the mercy of his teasing girlfriend.

You slide off his lap and sink to your knees. Andrew's eyes are wide while you undo his belt. He gets an eyeful of your nude body while you look up at him. His cock is freed and you take your time gently kissing the tip and the shaft. He groans and his hips rock but you keep your ministrations feather light. He still doesn't speak up. The only evidence of his desire his how hard he is and how desperate his whimpers sound.

You finally use your tongue, licking every angle of his cock until its sufficiently saturated. You give the tip of his cock a small suck and Andrew gasps. He's beside himself, battling his shyness to ask for more but keeping his words to himself.

In one fluid motion, you stand and straddle his lap again. This time, you rub the length of his cock over your slit. His breathing is eratic and his body rocks in kind with yours.

Your lips meet in a searing kiss. He returns the kiss so eagerly the chair creeks as he strains his tied arms. It was easy to lift up and angle his cock to slide right inside you. The groan he let out while you sunk down was erotic.

You start off slow, just rocking your hips in a circular motion to drive him wild. The teasing is driving him mad. He strains against the chair making the tie his hands are boud with tighter.

Your featherlight kisses on his lips and the slow movement of your hips wasn't enough for either of you to find release. Andrew tried to find purchase on the floor with his feet, pushing and moving his hips as much as he was able.

You kissed down his neck to his shoulder and leaned forward. The tie was within reach so you pulled on it, releasing his hands from the confinds.

Not even a second passed before he pushed you both forward and had you laying on your back on the floor. His thrusts were fast and eratic. He fucked you so hard, your body slid on the smooth surface. He tried to burry his face in your shoulder while fucking you like it was the last time he'd ever get the chance.

He cursed under his breath, hands grabbing at your hips to keep up his brutal pace. He as desperate, needy, and determined to fuck you until you were both thoroughly satisfied.

His thrusts were rough but he was hitting all the right spots to make you see stars. It was hard not to let your eyes close in bliss at the sensations. His display of desperation was enough to send you over the edge, but the way he was fucking you into the floor, his trousers sliding down to this kness, and his hair a mess, now that combination is what did it. Your nails dug into his back while your body pulsed with pleasure. He didn't slow down through your release. His groans and moans grew louder, letting you know he was close.

The after care was mutual. He helped you off the floor and looked you over for any injury. He held you to his chest when you told him you were fine. He burrried his face in your neck, whispering how much he loved you while you both came down from the rush.

[hopefulidiocy]

Prompt: HBP missing scene. Remus giving Harry girl advice

Remus sits next to Harry over Christmas at the Burrow and says “you know if you don’t want anyone to figure out how you feel you may want to stop staring at Miss Weasley”

Burrowed Christmas

Remus Lupin x female!reader x Harry Potter (no, not a poly)

Half-Blood Prince Era

Context: Harry is a growing boy and he has his confusions about some stuff.

Warnings: slightly suggestive, cursing, fluff, teenage angst, grammar, not proof read

Word count: around 900.

A/N: hope you like it! Never done these types of stories before. Cute ass idea! Thanks for sending :)

Christmas Eve was your favourite time of year, screw Christmas Day because that was over too quickly but with Christmas Eve you could simply relax, prepare food for tomorrow, drink and play board games. It was simply a brilliant time all round, for everyone. You and Lupin snuggled on the sofa as the sun rolled behind the mountains and out came the small, twinkling stars that Lupin always liked to name. With one arm over you and the other leaning on the sofa arm, he was reading his favourite classic romance novel and you laid there, enjoying his breath and the way his belly moves when he breathes. He has always had a gentle aura about him. Ron and Hermione joined you, playing chess with each other and completely ruining the whole comfortable vibe; you flew a cushion at them to get them to shut up but it was fruitless because Ron will always be dramatic.

“Checkmate!” Hermione roared, standing up and doing laps of the living room with the biggest, brightest smile on her face.

“Too bad, Weasley.” Lupin chuckled, cornering his page and setting it beside him; his, now free, hand stroked your head as he laughed and watched Ron basically blow up over a girl winning over him.

“More lessons for you, mate.” You laughed, sinking into his warming arms, your eyes growing heavy.

You must’ve dropped off at some point because you woke up to Miss Weasley screaming that dinner has been served. You were still in Lupin’s arms, he had fallen asleep too, his wrist at an awkward angle as his face slumped into his open hand.

“Remus.” You shook him awake, he moaned and rubbed his eyes.

“My fucking hand.” He moaned, massaging it with sleepy eyes. You pouted mockingly for him before you managed to get up, your head a bit cotton ball. Lupin stood up with you, a whole two heads taller than you, his arm naturally looped around your shoulders; pulling you in softly. No matter how much you guys touched, he always wanted more and could never get enough of having you around all the time.

In the dining room, the table was set incredibly for a Christmas Eve meal. With roast pig and roast beef sitting in the middle of the broken wooden table, the steam rising up to the ceiling; vegetables, all honey roasted and almost gone by Hermione; two types of gravy, a thick one and a thin one because Arthur loves his thick gravy and all types of potatoes one could ever imagine. Ron was completely stunned by it, just sitting there with his jaw on the floor and Remus had laughed to himself before pulling a chair out for you. When you sat, he pushed you back in, patting your shoulder gently and sitting opposite you. He rubbed his hands and made his way across the plates of food. Harry came in after ten minutes, blurry eyed and blushed a deep red, the only seat free was the one next to you; he awkwardly pulled the chair and sat.

“Hey, Harry.” You said, swallowing your pork and sending him a kind smile. He looked shocked, stared at you for a moment before responding.

“Er - hi.” He sheepishly smiled. He was being awkward. More awkward than normal and you looked at Remus, who was already looking at you with an amused expression; both of you smiled at each other and looked back down at your food.

“Miss -“ Harry cleared his throat. “Miss Weasley.” He paused for absolutely no reason and everyone looked at him, he glowed like the end of a wand when you cast lumos, and you saw that he swallowed - extremely hard - twice before talking again. “Miss Weasley. Please could you pass the… the potatoes?” He cleared his throat again. You caught Remus’ eye, he was staring at Harry with the most perplexing but amused look that made you snort as you drank your wine.

Throughout the meal, you watched Harry through your peripheral vision; he didn’t stop looking over at Hermione and then Molly and then you. It was confusing because he had never even looked at you in any way, let alone with a deep red blush on his face. Remus found it absolutely hilarious that Harry couldn’t stop looking, every time he made an awkward comment he would chuckle into his wine as quietly as possible. After dinner, you and the adults sat over a few glasses of red wine, chatting about this and that. It was nice to see Remus at ease with his best friend, Sirius, and both of them together was something incredibly special.

“Harry was acting weird, wasn’t he?” Sirius questioned, a little tipsy.

“I didn’t notice anything.” Molly said.

“He was heart eyeing all the girls in the room! I’m surprised you didn’t see a thing!” Sirius exclaimed, laughing. Arthur was chuckling, his beer belly bouncing. You and Remus looked at each other, knowingly and wordlessly you stood up. He led you to back door, letting the cold air in the hallway as he opened the door for you whilst you fetched your pack of cigarettes from the back pocket of your shorts.

“You look great in those shorts.” He purred, sending a smack to your ass.

“Put your tongue away, pervert.” You smiled, taking out a long cigarette for yourself and one for Remus. He brought out his wand, lighting it for you before lighting his own. You took a long drag, watching the smoke drift through the night air; Remus placed his arm across your shoulders, pressing his lips to your temple before taking a drag of his cigarette.

“I think Harry’s becoming a man.” He said, almost mindlessly.

“It was bound to happen, Rem.” You took another drag, letting the nicotine hit your bloodstream and that beautiful euphoric feeling of alcohol and nicotine running through your body. He hummed in deep thought. “What are you thinking?” You turned to him, craning your neck as you watched him look into the night sky; the breeze shifting his hair and his dark eyes in thought, he looked ethereal.

“Whenever I look at him, I see Lily and James. They are so present in him, whether he remembers them or not. He’s so much like James. So kind like Lily.” He took another puff of his cigarette. “He’s becoming a man. A man his parents never got to experience.”

“You get to experience it. We both do.” You leaned your cheek on his chest, his arm cascading over you. “He needs some proper guidance with the new… romantic feelings he might be developing.” It felt awkward to speak like this because you still saw him as a child.

“Yeah. Bird and the bees as they say.” He chuckled, flicking his cigarette away.

“I’m sure he already knows about that.” You laughed, taking your final drag before flicking it off. Remus looked at you with intense alarm, his eyes wider than you’ve ever seen them before. He looked like a boy. You reached up and ruffled his hair, he broke into a smile and attacked you with a hug; burying his face in your neck, kissing it lightly which always made you laugh.

“Merlin, shall we go speak to him?” He questioned, his face red from the warmth of your neck. You nodded and both of you headed inside. Sirius’ animated voice floated in from the living room, both of you rolled your eyes at each other and entered inside where Harry was just looking at Sirius with wide eyes.

“Harry… what I’m trying to say is: when two people love each other.” He stopped, thinking. “Well, actually you don’t always have to love each other. In fact, most of the time, you don’t love each other.” He noticed the two of you muffling your snickers from the doorway. “Except if you’re these two. These two love each other and they do an act called se-“

“OKAY! Sirius!” You clapped your hands, cutting him short of his verbal diarrhoea. Harry was absolutely mortified, just sat there on the edge of the sofa looking like he wanted to run as far away as possible from this situation.

“Please, no one talk to me about this.” Harry shook his head. “I already… I already know about… you know… the act… of love… or sometimes not love… I know about it.” He tripped over every single word, his face glittering with red and purple hues.

“Harry, Harry, you’re panicking.” You laughed a little and he audibly relaxed, a sigh emitting from his mouth as a deep groan.

“Listen, mate, you’re a growing lad. These feelings… these feelings are new.” Remus took over, leaving you to simply look upon the situation.

“Oh I’m not sure if I want to talk about this.” Harry responded but Remus put his hand up.

“That’s fine but you should probably recognise that you’re staring at every woman in the room.” Remus said in a low voice.

“No! That’s not true! I’m not staring at Hermione!” He panicked way more than you expected. Remus laughed, throwing his head back and patting his thigh.

“These feelings are weird right now but you will get used to them. They let you figure out what you like and what you want. It’s normal.” Remus smiled, nudging him with his shoulder. Harry emitted a hesitant smile.

“It’s embarrassing. I keep getting these… dreams and I wake up all…” Harry was squirming awkwardly.

“I get it. No need to spell it out. I remember being your age and having these awkward dreams and feelings. I couldn’t stop staring at any girl with a pinch of a figure. It’s normal. Everyone is growing at this point in your life. I guarantee Ron is feeling it too and he will probably be more anxious than you.” Remus chuckled.

“I guess.” Harry finally smiled properly. “It’s just incredibly awkward. I can’t look at a woman without… you know.” He dared to look at you and then look away, you giggled, letting your back relax in the sofa.

“I know, I know all right.” When Harry looked down with sheer humiliation, Remus gazed over at you and winked, sending a familiar sensation down to your abdomen.

“But, Lupin, please don’t mention this to anyone. I don’t want anyone to know. Especially not Hermione, I don’t want her to think I’m… you know.” He shrugged, picking at his nails.

“If you don’t want anyone to figure out how you feel you may want to stop staring at Miss Weasley.” He smirked, Harry took one look at him and started laughing. You joined in. And within a minute you were all laughing.

[pinkiepiebones]

Let’s see if this works... Talkin’ about Renfield’s apartment again PART ONE OF TWO

So Renfield’s apartment is located right by one of the stairwells. In this shot you can see Rebecca opening his front door (no number on the door) and you can see beyond her into the apartment just a bit. The curtains that are visible behind her are the same curtains in this shot; window by the dinette set

Back outside, based on where Rebecca and Renfield are standing on the stairwell (is it a stairwell if it’s uncovered and exterior?), as well as windows inside the apartment, I believe Renfield’s apartment is on the same level of the W in the TOWER part of the SUNRISE TOWER sign. (Do you think he chose the place because it’s SUNRISE??? Like, as an anti-Drac measure?)

This is a shot of the same basic space, when Rebecca sees the cop cars arriving. I’m like 90% sure this is the level Renfield’s apartment is on.

Back to the apartment itself.

Here we have Renfield standing outside, letting his bugs free. Notice the one window behind him- it’ll come up here in a sec.

That one visible window correlates to the window beside his TV in this shot-

Please take a moment to appreciate that he keeps every light on and has a lot of little plants everywhere. Okay, moving on. See the window above his sink? That’s what breaks this. Scroll back up to the exterior shots. There is no place where that window can exist. This is an eldritch apartment. In the kitchenette there you can also see an indent in the ceiling that has got to be recessed lighting, because, as I established earlier, Renfield does not live on the top floor, so it sure as fuck isn’t a sky light.

Just a full shot of his little kitchen here.

This is a capture from one of the behind the scenes things on the BluRay, I’m including it because it’s just nice to see the stuff on counter. Is that a retro as fuck toaster? A cookie jar? Precious. And behind them is the second of three windows along the “far wall,” if you will. So, if you were to walk in to his apartment, directly in front of you would be the “living room” (sofa, chair, table, TV) with the “dining room” behind it (dinette set), kitchenette to the left... And I don’t know what to call this space in front of the kitchenette. There’s a record player on that dresser, and there is at least one bar stool. “Entertaining room”?

Here’s a shot from the “living room,” you can see the record player, some records, and a speaker behind Renfield here.

And at this angle you can *just* see the top of a stool like I said. It’s hard to spot. Look at Renfield’s right knee, it’s the tiny white bit below that. Boom. Stool.

Renfield’s “bedroom” is directly beyond the “entertaining room.”

In the confrontation scene, as Dracula keeps moving in to Renfield’s space, you can see more of the “bedroom.” After Dracula passed through the “entertaining room” we get this great angle which shows a dresser with what I’m like 99% sure is a nice printer on it, and curtains framing the third window on that “far wall.”

The final window is centered on the “bedroom wall.” I’m only pointing that out because I misremembered and thought it was closer to the corner space and Renfield could, like, look out the window from his bed.

After Dracula leaves we get a fuller shot of the side of his “bredroom” that does not contain his bed. There’s one window there, which makes no sense based on the exterior shots, of course. On the left you can *just* see what seems to be a sink counter? I’m wondering it that’s a wash basin of some kind, and the space immediately to the right of it- you can see a black robe hanging on a door there- is a shower and toilet space. Also, beanbag chair.

I rotated and lightened the shot from when Rebecca wakes up on the sofa. YOu can see the closet door and beanbag chair from this angle. The kitchenette flows directly into the “bedroom.” Also notice the floor- shaggy rugs on what I think is linoleum

Another rotated shot of basically the same thing, just, again, floor. And stripey socks :3c

[artknifeandglue]

WIP Whatever-day!

Because this piece has taken so much work today that I now have a headache, and sharing (the suffering) is caring. Have an excerpt from the first draft, y'all.

Tagging @lovingherwasgay because we are both suffering with exams in various ways lol

---

Over eggs and bacon one morning, Harry lowers the newspaper in front of him and looks at the chipped mug of coffee by Eggsy’s plate, horribly out of place with the words HANDS OFF MY MUG, YOU CUNT plastered across the side in stark contrast to the bone china of Harry’s teacup. Plodding footsteps echo from the staircase and down the hallway into the dining room as he takes stock of the things that don’t belong to him but have surfaced in his home anyway: a coat in the wrong size on the hook by the doorway; the pair of oxfords not in his size sitting by the shoe cabinet where their owner leaves them every single time despite Harry’s near-daily reminders to put them away; the box of absurdly sweet breakfast cereal with no nutritional value whatsoever, perched proudly next to the coffee machine as though that space was never empty; the second toothbrush by the bathroom sink where there was only one before; the sleepy brunette currently padding into the dining room, rubbing his eyes and colliding with the doorframe on his way in, still in his pyjamas with his hair sticking up at odd angles. Instead of all of this making his head spin, the realisation settles into a quiet sort of clarity, as though this is how it ought to be.

Still, Harry waits until the end of breakfast, when Eggsy’s coffee has disappeared from the mug, his plate is empty, and all that is left of his cereal is a lonely blue Froot Loop sitting at the bottom of the bowl, surrounded by a few spoonfuls of milk tinted an unappealing colour by copious amounts of food colouring. As Eggsy scoops it up with his spoon, Harry bites the bullet and asks, “How do you feel about moving in?”

The spoon pauses on its way to Eggsy's mouth, a drop of milk dangling dangerously and threatening to fall onto the placemat. Harry drops his gaze to his own nearly-empty plate, cutting the last mushroom into half and spearing it on his fork just to give him something to do in the unbearable silence. A second passes, and then he ends up being the one to break it anyway. “Of course, you don’t have to if you would like to remain-”

“Yes,” Eggsy cuts in, and Harry looks up in time to see his shocked expression give way to a delighted grin. “Obviously yes, Harry, I want to.”

Relief and joy swell in Harry’s chest, too much and just perfect and crowding out almost all speech except the words I love you. “Excellent,” he manages to say when his throat finally unsticks. “Will you need help with your things?”

“Nah. Haven’t got that much to pack, and I can get Rox to help. She’s been offering for ages.” Eggsy tips the last bit of cereal and milk directly into his mouth and swallows. “Can I bring my stuff over tomorrow?”

“You can do as you like,” Harry points out, “since it’s now also your house. You live here.” With me, he wants to add, horribly sentimental as it is. You live here with me.

“Sweet. Thank you, Harry.” Eggsy is smiling again, this one beatific and soft and gentle, the way he smiles only when they are alone. What Harry wouldn’t give to keep that smile, to keep Eggsy like that forever, bright and brilliant and happy.

He shelves the thought, because now isn’t the time for impassioned declarations of love. “I’m glad you’re open to it,” he answers instead.

“Open to waking up next to you every morning for the rest of my life? Fuck yeah.” Eggsy’s chair scrapes against the floor as he gets up, now-empty bowl stacked neatly atop his plate as he carries his dishes to the kitchen sink. As he passes Harry’s chair, he leans down for a quick kiss, leaving on Harry’s lips the faint taste of sugar and artificial fruit and in Harry’s chest the fierce warmth of love.

Every morning for the rest of their lives. What a prospect.

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

The great regular sleep experiment 2024 part "accident prone"

T~T

So yesterday was rough. And eventful.

I can't blame forgetting to check if things were open on Monday on the poor sleep because I never fucking remember Victorias day or labour day or whatever other monday things are inexplicably closed.

But yesterday, groceries done or not, not only did I forget a bunch of stuff while doing groceries, again, which for me isn't normal [I have a system for groceries], but I injured myself a lot and got covered in cherry related acidic beverage in two separate incidents.

First, I dropped a cherry cola pack at the store on my way out and ended up walking home covered in cherry cola. I don't drop my groceries, no matter how much it seems like I should.

And then last night happened.

Just after checking my window fan was secure... it fell down and knocked -what would usually be an empty cup but was currently filled with 7 frozen cherries and a liter of cold water with a bit of lemon juice- all over my keyboard and blue yeti mic, and myself.

So I had to flip and unplug my keyboard due to it being full of sticky water.

And it finally shorted out the half broken cord for my blue yeti.

So I finally had to dig out and plug in my speakers. Which mean moving my computer... Which meant putting a glass glass in the sink, which meant reaching over the last glass glass I broke to do it because I had to lift my chair out of the way of everything to get my speakers out of the drawer [don't ask], which meant cutting my finger.

Like a small paper cut but like made with glass and very enthusiastic about bleeding while I am trying to plug something in behind my computer.

This was not 20 minutes after the last time I cut myself... Because all day my flesh had been sticking to this poster frame I have with bristol board in it taped to the side of my filing cabinet [as a whiteboard], and then like... Violently tearing off sharp pieces of plastic whenever I moved? And so now there was this big jagged edge of plastic right next to me that seemed like -surely- it was out of the way and I could deal with the whole thing later... But no, I went to sit down and somehow -from completely the opposite angle you would expect- cut my arm to bleeding on the -only vaguely sharp for plastic- edge.

This was on top of everything deciding all at once that it needs to obsessively try to fall out of other places, such as the small freezer on the top of my fridge, the counter next to my desk, and the fucking window sill with the fan in it...

AND!!! My fucking, the goddamned pj pants I just sewed up the knee of re-tore 4 SEPARATE times! Last night!

And my injuries from last monday or whatever and the moving of things from saturday are still only half healed.

Unless the universe is trying to deliver me cherry scented death by any excuse of physics imaginable [cherry scented inconvenience maybe??] I have to think that this must all be coordination issues and knock on effects from being too tired to judge anything properly.

Anyway I had to take two separate "I am sticky with something containing cherry specifically" showers yesterday which I imagine the neighbours didn't care for.

baptize me in fuckign cherry juice idk...

So I need to replace my blue yeti cord, if not take it apart and fix both jacks, if it still works right at all. I do not have a mic until I do.

The jack on my fiox3 is still so worn it won't play music to headphones.

My headphones are on their last included cord and have mo pleather left

My graphics card is failing and my case needs repairs...

All around there's a bunch of tech I -really- need to repair or replace unless I want it to all fail on me at once at the most inconvenient possible time...

And anyway I didn't fall asleep until after 2 am. I woke up at my alarm and snoozed it like 20 times before getting up...

[merry-andrews]

Aahh!!💕 I saw this post and mind immediately kicked into action hehe. I hope you don't mind if I add a small additional here💜

It was a bad idea from the start and bad choice to put Billy to watch over the tapes. 

They had that stargirl's help that Hughie seems so fond of, she has free pass to that cursed tower. Sneaking in Homelander's room was a bit tricky but Billy wasn't impressed when she got the job done. Now they have this ability to watch that freak of a supe anytime they wanted. Fucker didn't even notice something was off when he entered his room and there he was, standing in front of the tall mirror, still in that bloody blue and red uniform and for fuck's sake, he was talking to himself. 

Apparently was a heated conversation, his face expression changing to anger then after a stretched pause Billy can see he starts crying.

He was scared shitless inside. For love of whatever that's holy, he swears that V stuffs does something to the brain that breaks it really bad.

He watches the supe mourn and cry for few minutes. Eventually he gives up and sheds his uniform, removing pieces by pieces and if you didn't know you could think he's strip teasing Billy.

Why he didn't let Frenchie watch this madness? Why he told everyone to have a night-off and locked himself in hideout to watch over this cunt all night? 

Billy pinches his nose bridge, head dizzy and feeling off when he looks at the screen again and he almost jumps out of his skin, the supe was standing naked, having a silicon thingie in his hand... oh God is that what Billy thinks it is?! He plants it on the floor in front of mirror and Butcher can't see from this angle what's going on down there but the blond supe sinks onto it beautifully, his back arching. It was like he knew camera was there and wanted to give it a good sight.

The thought sent cold shivers on Billy's spine, maybe he sensed the camera? You'll never know with these fucks.

The camera can record voices too and soon Billy's room is filled with sweet squelching sounds and desperate moans. 

"Fuck.." 

Billy rubs at his face, looking around like he expect anyone to be there with a judging face when he slips a hand inside his jeans to cup himself over underwear.

It's sick and definitely not good at all but fuck it, who cares if he jerks off to a crazy supe on the screen everyone hates?

He slides the chair back a little to have more access and be more comfortable, the sound of his zipper too loud in silent room. He's not fully hard but there's a slight bulge under the fabric of his boxers.

On the screen Homelander looks satisfied. Legs spread open and the floor between them looking wet, Billy blinks when he catches him licking the mirror. 

Billy doesn't notice he holds his breath. Eyes locked on the screen as he pulls band of his underwear down to free himself with a groan. Hard member twitching in interest when the camera catches a small glimpse of what lays between those pretty legs, a glistening, beautiful cunt.

He strokes himself faster: "Fucking hell!" Biting into his fist when he cums.

purely blaming @blindmagdalena directly for this one.

small smutty smut smut. sub!translander with mirrorlander. minor warning about body issues.

can't get enough of translander still. maybe i should write some blood sex with him

you look so pretty like this.

A desperate nod. A whimper. He didn’t see it, couldn’t, but fuck, he didn’t care right now. On his knees in front of a mirror, a bright blue, hard plastic cock deep in his cunt. Would-be cock erect, aching between his fingers, throbbing desperately as it demanded release. 

He’d dribbled onto the floor. Could see the strands of arousal thick, seeping out of him as he’d worked himself into a frenzy at his own words. 

And himself. In the mirror. Stood proud, tall, the one who took care of him, the man he should be. Thick, erect cock in his hand, just as soaked from pre-come. 

‘I need to. Please…’

Begging himself.

say it.

A whine. Long. Desperate. Refusal as he brought himself down on the plastic once more, bulbous head inside hitting that sweet spot so beautifully. 

taste me.

Hesitation, for a brief second, and he was bringing himself up, one hand resting against the side of the mirror for leverage as he brought his face to where that cock reflected in the mirror. Tongue pressing against the glass, looking up at his other self, the one who felt the heat of that tongue on his desperate head. 

Dragging his tongue down the glass, imagining he was dragging it down the sensitive hot skin. He’d suck his own fucking cock so hard. He’d take it down his throat. Tease him as he so loved teasing him.

Pulling back to slam down onto the plastic. Back up, watching as he went to town on the glass. On his reflection. Repeating. Aching.

Aching.

you can come for me. god, fuck, come for me. let go. give in, fucking come for me.

Didn’t need telling twice. As he saw his reflection lose control, he slammed down once more. Fingers stroking himself, skin sliding over his engorged clit head, coming hard. Everything clenching, groaning, milking that fake cock for all it was worth. 

Spent, looking up at himself. So pleased. So happy.

So proud.

you truly are the greatest fucking superhero.

[touyasdoll]

MHA Father’s Day Thirsts

In honor of Father’s Day, here are some spicy drabbles of various “daddy” related scenarios✨

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI, daddy kink, breeding, general BDSM, impact play, choking, degradation

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugou, Eijiro Kirishima, Shouta Aizawa, Dabi/Touya Todoroki x reader

A/n: A little late on this, meant to post it yesterday, but is it ever too late to thirst??

——————————

Katsuki Bakugo

Trying for a baby

“You’re taking my cock like such a good little slut, ya know that?” Katsuki’s long fingers wrapped your throat, squeezing the sides just hard enough to make your pussy throb around him. “Shit, baby, you feel so fucking good.”

His eyes fluttered closed and he slowed his pace to a near halt, leaning down to kiss you as he rolled his hips against yours in a rare moment of tenderness.

“I love you so much, you know that, right?” His eyes searched your momentarily, the pads of his calloused fingers brushing along your jaw.

“I know,” you reassured him, still breathless from his previous assault on your body, basking in the pleasure still coursing through you and the sudden change in the atmosphere. “I love you too, Katsu.”

“I can't wait to knock you up,” he murmured against your skin as he trailed kisses between the valley of your breasts, all the way down to your belly as he cocked his hips back, leaving just the tip inside of you. “You’re gonna look so beautiful, baby.”

"Ahh--fuck, Katsu," you couldn't help but to blush as you arched your back, shifting your hips forward to sink him back into your velvety walls, clenching around him as you whined in need.

"Eager as ever, aren't you?" The smile that pressed against your stomach morphed into a smirk as he kissed you there once more, before snapping his hips down into yours, pounding against your cervix at an angle that had you seeing stars.

Eijiro Kirishima

Telling him to cum inside for the first time

He was seated on the edge of the couch with you bouncing effortlessly on his cock, gripping onto his shoulders for support as you neared your release. His hands guided your hips, pistoning you up and down as you straddled his lap.

"Eiji, I'm so fucking close..!" you threw your head back as you felt the tight coil deep within your belly threaten to snap.

"I got you, baby, let go. Cum all over my fucking cock." His grip tightened on your hips, littering your breasts with kisses as his thumb rubbed tight circles over your clit.

You were thrust over the edge, crying out as your nails dug into the flesh of his shoulders. He groaned, still guiding your hips as he thrusted forward to meet them eagerly, muttering praises in your ear as he chased his own high.

“Fuck, baby, you look so pretty right now. Always such a good girl, coming all over my fat fucking cock,” his hand wound into your hair, gently tugging it backwards to kiss you, carefully biting your bottom lip with his sharp teeth as you continued to sputter out moan after moan. “Where do you want me to cum, baby?”

“Inside me,” you locked eyes with him, interlocking your fingers behind his neck as you ground your hips against his more quickly. “I want you to fucking cum inside me, Eiji. Please..”

“Wh-what? Ahh, fuck,” his eyes grew wider before his head lolled back allowing you to kiss and suck at the sensitive spot beside his Adam’s apple. “A-are you sure, baby?”

Your fingers knitted into his hair, pulling just enough to affix his gaze with yours as you neared your second orgasm, desperately bucking your hips atop of his.

“Yes, oh God, yes. I want you to fill my tight little cunt up with your cum. Can you do that for me, Eiji?” The words escaped your lips as a mewl, your voice becoming softer and needier as you neared your release all over again. “Want you to stuff my pussy full, pretty please, Eiji..”

“Oh fuck yes I can,” his hands gripped your ass cheeks, squeezing firmly as he continued to match your relentless pace. “Ahh—oh, shit, baby I’m gonna cum so fucking har—FUCK.”

You could feel his chest tighten, hardening slightly as his quirk activated involuntarily. His eyes were blown as his head snapped upwards, a feral growl erupting from his chest as his rhythm became sloppy. You could feel his warm essence filling you up, spreading so easily all over his impossibly hard cock as you fucked him through his release until you found your own again.

Shouta Aizawa

Trying for a baby

“C’mere, love.” Shouta smiled softly upon seeing you in the doorway of his office, patting his lap as he leaned back in his desk chair. “I’m just about done here, I promise.”

“What all do you have left to do?” You returned his expression and strolled towards him, draping your arms around his neck as you perched yourself on his knee.

“Well, it’s actually something I need your help with,” one arm snaked around your waist, his hand resting on your hip. The other brought a hand up to your face, his index finger tucking just beneath your chin as his thumb rested atop it. “So I’m glad you’re here.”

“Oh?” You glanced down shyly, flicking your eyes back to his lips, watching them curl into a smile as he pressed a gentle kiss to yours.

A sigh left your nose as you rested a hand on his chest, leaning into him. He dropped his hand from your face, hooking his fingers behind the crook of your knee as he guided your legs to part, helping you shift your weight to straddle his lap. His lips attached to your neck, drawing a generous moan from you immediately as your eyes settled on the door to the right of you.

“Sho, the door isn’t locked. Someone could see..” your eyes fluttered closed again as his hands roamed over your ass, pressing you down firmly against his growing erection. A low grunt left his lips, before he spoke again, his voice gruff and thick with lust.

“See me fucking my wife?” He stood, his hands effortlessly lifting you onto the desk, where he gently laid you down as he leaned over you, whispering into your ear. “Let ‘em see then. We have important business to tend to tonight.”

Another moan was pulled from your chest as his hands skimmed beneath your short dress, pushing it up above your breasts as he kissed his way down your torso, over your hips, tugging your panties off as he neared your most sensitive area, only stopping when his tongue grazed your entrance.

“You ready, baby?” He placed a gentle kiss to the sensitive, innermost part of your thigh as he locked eyes with you.

Your fingers tangled into his hair as you nodded, your hips shifting in anticipation until he sank his tongue between your folds, causing you to cry out at once from the intense pleasure that he was already providing. His skilled tongue lapped up your juices, occasionally connecting with your clit, dragging it in slow circles as he reveled in the way you looked right now, squirming helplessly beneath him.

“I’m gonna cum right here tonight, baby,” he darted his long tongue straight into your center a few times, licking a stripe up to your clit before he took the bundle of nerves into his mouth. “Are you ready for that? Ready for me to make you a mommy?”

Dabi/Touya Todoroki

Breeding/Daddy kink

“Say it again. You’re not too fucked out to talk yet, are ya, babydoll?” Dabi’s voice had an edge of cruelty to it, that familiar mocking tone that made your walls clench around him without fail. His eyes nearly closed, falling half-lidded as he stared down at your already shaking form, your elbows wobbling as you tried to hold your submissive position in front of him while his cock slid in and out of you, his balls slapping against your already battered clit. “Shit—you really do love being treated like the filthy fucking whore that you aren’t, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, daddy,” was all that you were able to breathe out. It was more than enough for him.

“Oh good, your mouth still works. I’m glad, because I’m not done with that yet either,” his hands left his brutal hold on your hips, one capturing you around the neck and the other palming your breast as he pulled your back flush against his chest. “But first, I need to empty my balls into this sopping wet cunt of yours. Show you the only fucking thing you’re good for.”

Your eyes rolled back as his fingers expertly rolled your nipple while the pattern of his hips became unpredictable, a sure sign of his impending orgasm.

“S’oh yesss, breed me, daddy, give me all of your fucking cum,” your hand reached back behind his head as you angled your face toward his, speaking as your lips pressed against his.

His eyes locked with yours and you couldn tell he was just as far gone as your were, positively high on how good you both felt. It was truly intoxicating, seeing how desperate he was to have you like this. You always liked letting him do as he pleased, degrading you to filth while he ravaged you, but seeing that unmistakeable look of need on his face as he held your gaze now, you understood for the first time how good it felt to holds the reins.

“Have I been a good girl, daddy? I wanna feel your cum inside my tight little pussy so bad,” you almost whined between the sweet kisses you placed on his lips. “Please, let me milk that big, fat fucking cock of yours. Want you to fuck it deeper while I cum all over.”

He wanted nothing more than to keep his eyes on you, but he couldn’t hold on any longer and the sheer force of his orgasm made him snap his eyes shut as ribbons of white flooded into you. A cry left your lungs as your walls became even more slick with the mixture, allowing his thrusts to hit you more easily, more deeply. He silenced you with a forceful kiss, holding your jaw in place with his large hand, the cool sensation of the staples juxtaposing the heat between you. A few more thrusts was all it took for you to come undone yet again that evening, your body spasming, clinging to him like he was your only anchor to reality.

“That’s it, baby, you’ve been such a good girl for daddy tonight,” his hand still held your face, his eyes boring into yours as he swallowed the moans you offered him. His head was clear while yours still swam, dizzying you in your euphoria. “Wanna see you feel as good as you make me feel, princess.”

The kisses between you turned softer and he continued grinding his hips into yours, letting you ride out your final high, making sure to lean in and press his lips to your ear while you were still out of your right mind.

“Daddy loves you, baby. Don’t you forget it.”

[phillippadgettwrites]

What Happens in San Diego

Rated X / 2025 words / posted on AO3

CW: see AO3 for relationship tags

San Diego, December 1997

“Shhhhhhh. My Sergeant's gonna break the door down if you keep making all that noise.”

His hand pressed firmly over her mouth only encourages her, and she leans back slightly to change the angle of his cock as it slips in and out with obscenely sloppy sounds. She’s so wet it’s indecent, and it’s not as though they spent much time on foreplay. His stern questioning regarding why she wanted to keep the photo of Emily stirred up something feral and desperate inside of her, something that lay dormant for years. A lock on his office door, a time-worn condom stashed in the forgotten recesses of his wallet, and the overwhelming need to feel something other than death and grief and loss were all the justification she needed.

Her pants and underwear lay discarded on the yellowed linoleum floor, her jacket tossed on his chair, and her t-shirt pushed up under her arms to expose the white satin of her bra. Kresge’s trousers are in a puddle around his wingtips, his dress shirt open and his tie hanging limply over his shoulder. She pushes his undershirt up to reveal the rippled planes of his belly, the muscles twitching and contracting as he sinks into her again and again.

He removes his hand from her mouth and she sucks in a lungful of air, flashing her eyes up to his hungrily. She wants something that she can’t quite name, doesn’t know how to ask for. She wants to feel alive.

He withdraws from her, his slick latex-covered cock bobbing in the open air. She shoots him a questioning look and he grabs her under her arms, pulling her off the surface of the desk and turning her around to face it. One hand splayed across her upper back pushes her forward, and she bends in half with her ass exposed to the open air and his name plate digging into her hip.

“You like it a little rough, Scully FBI?” he asks in a growl of a whisper, and she feels a fresh rush of moisture between her legs.

He pushes back into her with a sharp thrust and she yelps. He leans forward, returning his hand to her mouth and pulling her head back slightly, just enough that she feels the tension in his arm and the control he has over her body.

Control. She always seeks it, always struggles to have it and maintain it. Her deepest, darkest secret is that she desperately wants to abdicate all that carefully secured control. To let go, to give in. Every now and then she acts on the impulse. Last time it landed her in the hospital with a fresh tattoo. This time it has her bent over a desk in a busy police station, biting her lip to contain her moans as a beautiful stranger fucks her from behind.

“Mmmmm, mmmhmmm,” Kresge hums, his fingers digging into her cheek.

She closes her eyes, losing herself in sensation and relief at the things her healthy body is proving itself still capable of. Of desiring and being desired. Getting wet, getting fucked. Living. For a moment she forgets whose dick it is that’s striking her cervix rhythmically, sending little jolts of painful pleasure down her legs. It could be Ed, or that man at the gym who always gives her long looks. It could be Mulder. Would Mulder fuck her like this, would he be rough with her? Sometimes he treats her like she’s made of glass, and all she wants to do is break.

She wants it harder, faster, but she doesn’t have the luxury of words. She arches her pelvis up slightly, trying to find leverage against the front of the desk. He grabs her hips roughly with both hands, and she drops her face into the crook of her arm as he begins to fuck her in earnest, staccato slaps and the muffled sound of her whimpers extraordinarily loud in the small room. Outside, phones ring and there is the occasional peel of laughter or a barked order. Inside, she is inching closer and closer towards the greatest loss of control she can imagine.

Kresge stuffs one hand into the space between her pelvis and the desk, his rough fingers fumbling artlessly over her clit. It doesn’t matter that it’s not all that precise; she’s so wound up that the graze of a feather would have been enough.

She lets out a long, low moan that rumbles in her chest, the slip of his cock and the erratic brushes of his fingers pushing her suddenly and forcefully over the edge. Kresge grunts, returning his hand to her hip and driving into her in a series of rapidfire pumps until he hisses and slows, coming stealthily but throatily.

He slips out, leaving her a tangle of flaccid limbs and satisfaction on his formerly tidy desk. She catches her breath as she listens to the jangle of his belt buckle and the silky zip of his tie. When she finally has the wherewithal to push herself off the desk and stand, he looks perfectly poised as though nothing happened at all.

“Keep the picture,” he says, slightly out of breath, as she collects and re-dons her clothes. “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble to get it, not that I minded,” he adds, and she shoots him a coy smirk.

“Thanks,” she says quietly, taking the photograph and turning towards the door.

“I’ll see you back here in, what, a few hours?” he says, and she turns back to look at him.

His hands are stuffed in his pockets, his hair hardly out of place. He seems like a good man. Maybe in another time, another circumstance, she would actually consider pursuing something with him.

She doesn’t say anything in reply, just gives him a tight lipped smile and a nod, and walks out of the police station, Emily’s photo in hand.

-

The Falls at Arcadia, March 1999

The Rent-A-Center couch squeaks loudly each time he drives into her, paired with the rush of his labored breaths. He’s sweaty and ragged, drawing every ounce of strength in his body and sending it careening into hers as he fucks her roughly.

“You’re a bad girl, Scully,” he says with a grunt, his hips snapping against her pelvis so sharply it hurts. She cries out, a cross between a whimper and a moan, and fists a clump of his hair.

He’s on his knees on the floor, stark naked and so fucking beautiful it’s overwhelming. White streaks of moonlight are slashed like tiger stripes over his shimmering skin, the flex of his muscles making them dance. Her ass hangs over the edge of the cushions, her legs wrapped around his waist, and his cock buried deep inside her.

“You’re home late,” he’d said as she walked in the door not thirty minutes prior

She stilled and turned slowly towards him, not missing the chastising tone in his voice. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, bare feet planted firmly on the pristine linoleum, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I didn’t realize I had a curfew.”

His jaw twitched and he looked away, and she found herself instantly captivated by his demeanor. It was unfamiliar and out of character, save for those few occasions where he was displeased with her choices or actions. This begged the question of what she did, or what he thought she did, that might displease him.

“You were at the San Diego field office?” he asked, poorly feigning nonchalance.

“The police precinct, actually,” she replied, turning back to the stack of papers on the counter before her.

She goaded him with her lack of engagement, daring him to tell her what information he was really after.

“Detective Kresge still on staff there?”

A little prick of anticipation tingled at the back of her neck, right around the place that her replacement implant lives, keeping her cancer free. Keeping her alive.

“Yep,” she said flatly, not looking at him.

She heard him shift and clear his throat.

“And?” he asked, that same petulant tone in his voice.

She suddenly wondered if she told him at some point about her brief lapse in professionalism with Detective Kresge. She was nearly 100% certain that it never came up. She certainly wouldn’t have volunteered the information, given the way he responded to her ill-fated date with Ed Jerse. She lifted her head to look at him, finding his expression unreadable.

“And, what?” she shot back, leaning one hip against the edge of the counter and mirroring his crossed arms.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes with annoyance, and she lifted her eyebrows in question.

“Come on, Scully,” he said derisively, and she went from curious to angry in an instant.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to, Mulder,” she sniped. “If there’s something you’d like to say to me, just say it.”

“Okay,” he acquiesced with a nod. “I’m wondering if perhaps you’re home late because you were recreating your little office romp with Detective Kresge.”

Her eyes widened briefly, but she attempted to hide her reaction.

“I don’t recall ever discussing that with you,” she said levelly, as though debating the facts of a case. “And regardless, I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“You’re right, it’s not,” he agreed smugly. “For whatever reason, Kresge felt the need to tell me about it last time we were out here. He seemed pretty proud of himself for managing to get in your pants and I decided not to deflate his ego by making him aware of your proclivity towards fucking strangers when you’re having a bad day.”

There was a slap, and then immediate contrition. There was conflicting anger over his possessiveness and arousal over the knowledge that he didn’t want her running back to Kresge. She felt vindicated, in a way, after all he put her through with Diana. There was a kiss, and then he took over. She relinquished control.

He bites her earlobe, pinches an erect nipple between his fingers. He’s rough with her, rougher than she ever imagined. Rougher than she could have hoped.

“Did he make you come?” he asks angrily.

“Yes,” she breathes, gripping his ass and pulling him more firmly against her. She wants him deeper, she wants more.

“Inside you?” he questions, and she can hear his confidence wavering.

“No,” she answers on a moan as he tugs her even further off the couch, nearly into his lap as he sits back on his haunches.

“Good,” he says resolutely, his fingers digging into her ass cheeks. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

His words make her dissolve like sugar into hot water, melting further into him. Who knew he could talk like this?

“Yes,” she murmurs, and he grunts in approval.

His hands on her ass pull her down and push her back up, maintaining control even in her superior position. His fingertips on one hand inch towards her ass crack, and she feels so completely powerless it scares her. But she trusts him, so she lets him nip and suck at her lips as he fucks her ruthlessly, those fingers creeping and creeping until one presses firmly against her asshole.

“Oh, god,” she hisses, her fingers digging into his back.

“Good girl,” he purrs. “I want to feel you come.”

She breaks. Shatters like tempered glass, crumbling around him. Somewhere in her haze of pleasure, she hears him sputter a stream of profanities and then the insides of her thighs are wet with his cum. He slows but doesn’t stop, beginning to pepper her with soft, affectionate touches that feel like apologies.

“I didn’t see him, Mulder. He wasn’t there,” she murmurs, her head resting in the crook of his neck and her arms wrapped loosely around his rib cage.

He sighs with relief, cuddling her close like a prized possession he isn’t prepared to part with. She invites him to sleep in the bed, and he accepts. She feels more alive than she can ever remember feeling.

Tagging @today-in-fic

[whumperooni]

Oh to be aizawas favorite student that gets stuffed on the regular, during class breaks, after school and special visits to his room at night. He baby's her quite a lot. He can't help it. And she gets favoritism but no one actually suspects he's teaching her how to be such a good girl behind doors.

yes yes yes

we all just want to be Sensei’s favorite student and have him teach us how to suck his cock just right

uh, nsfw rambling under the cut. and ye student has been aged up

It’s something that doesn’t happen on purpose or right away- first, you arrive at UA and you’re blessed with Aizawa as your homeroom teacher. And lucky, lucky him- you’re a wonderful student. Smart and polite and eager to learn. Your quirk is similar to his- erasure but by touch instead- and you’re always so respectful and attentive when you come to him for advice on how to use it, how to improve, how to be better. Sensei, I just want to do my best.

You quickly become his favorite the more he helps you and it’s a pleasant surprise when he finds the two of you have some common ground beyond quirks. Movies, books, shows, food- your tastes are similar and it’s easy to talk to you about things beyond the strict realm of what he should stick to.

You’re just so...easy to get along with. Relaxing. And, god, it’s such a nice change to have a student that is constantly working on improving, that lights up so much when given praise and absorbs every bit of advice that you can. You’re malleable, but not brainless and it’s no surprise when he realizes that he has a soft spot for you.

Your second year is a little rough- new homeroom teacher, internships, work studies, all the competition that comes with making a name for yourself in the hero world. Even though he’s not your teacher anymore, you can’t help wander back to him for advice and a familiar comfort. Aizawa, for his part, is content enough to keep guiding you along- will listen to you as you fret and worry and question yourself. His calm words and solid advice are always enough to raise your confidence again and the little sessions you two have will end with you nodding in determination and saying Sensei, I promise I’ll make you proud.

He already knows you will- you work hard and you’re so eager for his approval, always chasing after success and the reward of a pat to a head and your favorite sensei telling you good job. you did well. i’m proud of you. (He never doles out praise like that but, god, do you work hard to earn it- you deserve your sensei’s approval and compliments. You always work so hard. for him.)

The third year is a bit easier, but it’s tiring- you’re working properly as a hero now and juggling balancing school and being an acting sidekick. You still come to your sensei for help and it fills him with satisfaction whenever he hears how you’ve blossomed under his instruction.

This is the year, too, when his gaze keeps trailing after you, when he finally realizes just how much he enjoys your eagerness and your wide eyes, the way you nearly melt when he gives you praise.

Like any good teacher, he feels disgusted by himself. Disgusted but...interested. He swears to himself that he’ll never be inappropriate with you, that he’ll keep being there for you as always and keep the relationship respectable.

He tells himself that, but...

But his hands start brushing against you when you walk next to each other. But he begins to tuck your hair behind your ear and brush it from your eyes, trail his fingers along your check. But his touch becomes more frequent during training- experienced hands moving you to get your stance to perfection and lingering as he explains technique, giving the lightest of squeezes before dropping away.

And you...you never pull away or balk or do anything- you just look up at him with wide eyes and cheeks holding the lightest, sweetest flush and nod along to whatever he’s saying, keep following his instructions until you’re perfect.

You trust him so much and respect him to the highest regard- Sensei is important to you in every sort of way and you’d follow him into hell if he asked.

You’d do anything if he asked.

With your third year and all your hero work comes attention, popularity. Boys keep hounding after you and, honestly, it’s flustering. Embarrassing whenever they put their hands a little too low on your waist while chatting you up and look over you with hooded eyes. Their touch is nothing like Sensei’s- you don’t want to melt into and you don’t want more; all you want is to shy away.

The attention troubles you and it’s something that Aizawa picks up on. You almost don’t want to tell him about it whenever he asks, but you can’t not answer your sensei and, besides, he’s given you so much advice before- he’s sure to guide you through this confusing time in your life.

So you tell him, shyly, about the boys and their touches and their crude remarks. You blush and mumble that it’s overwhelming, that it’s embarrassing. You’ve never dated anyone before- you’ve never even kissed anyone before. You don’t know how and...and you’re nervous about it- what if you’re bad? What if they laugh?

Seeing you blushing and embarrassed would be a KO to Aizawa- one quick snap of his already frail self-control. He’d tell you that you just need practice, that it’s not something you need to rush. And, god, sweet fretting you who has danced through his fantasies and turned a respectable man into a closet pervert would be helpless when Aizawa- when the man you look up to with stars in your eyes, when the man whose every word you hang on to, when the man you’ve had such a sweet little crush on since day one, when Sensei- places a hand to your cheek and tells you that he could teach you.

How could you pass it up?

So it starts with that- his lips pressing against yours and your mind going dizzy with wonder and giddy, anxious disbelief. So, so chaste at first- slow to keep you from growing skittish and pulling away. And when it gets deeper, more hot that’s when he starts to tell you how to angle your head, how to use your tongue, how to mold your lips perfectly against his. Less tongue this time. That’s better. Try biting my bottom lip like this.

You listen to his instructions like a lovesick puppy- cheeks flushed and eyes hazy and the need to please him flooding through you stronger than ever before.

It starts with kissing and then it’s him teaching you how to ride his thigh, how to get off with just that grinding pressure and his murmured praise, his hands running over your waist. Then Sensei teaches you about pleasuring yourself- long fingers stroking over your cunny and curling deep inside, little whimpers and mewls leaving you while he explains your g-spot and how to stretch yourself for a cock, how to rub your little clit and make yourself come. He’ll get you off and suck your juices from his fingers, sit back in a chair and then make you do everything he just did- telling you when to add a finger, when to stroke your clit, encouraging you when you whine and say that your fingers are too small and they don’t feel as good as his.

So, of course, if you’re fingers aren’t good enough then he has to teach you about sex toys. He buys you a vibrator and uses it on you until you’re shaking, makes you stuff it in your panties before class and has you hurrying to him on break so you can show him that you’re soaked, that you can come now and please let me come sensei, i need to- it’s so much.

He’ll have you stuff your fingers into your soaked, throbbing pussy and he’ll let you come whenever you mewl a “Sensei, please.” And then he’ll have you suckle your juices from your fingers, teach you how good you taste.

Which, of course, will lead to lessons of him eating you out- face burying between your spread thighs and tongue flicking over your clit until it’s too  much and you try to squirm away on instinct. That gets his wraps around your wrists and you sat on his face- his hands gripping your bum and making you hump against him until he’s soaked with your cum and you’re too tired and sore to give more than a twitch of your hips.

Then, of course, it’s your turn to learn about pleasing someone else with your mouth- you get to see Sensei’s dick for the first time and it’s so, so flustering to watch him stroke it while he explains blowjobs and how to run your little tongue over his head, how to suckle his balls like a good girl. Just like that- you’re doing so good. Watch your teeth, okay? Remember to breathe.

This particular lesson gets repeated again and again- it’s hard to take his length fully at first and he has to let you train your throat until you can take him down to the root and swallow his cum without choking and gagging.

It becomes a habit of yours to suck your sensei off at the end of the day- you sinking to your knees and swallowing him down while he grades papers; his hand petting your hair and a serene look on your face as you bob your head along your sensei’s length, make him come.

The biggest lesson- the most important one- is when he finally, finally fucks you.

Aizawa knows he has to do it right- he knows that it has to be good for you. He wants it to be good for you- you’ve certainly earned it with all the hard work you’ve put in so far.

It happens during a break when he actually has time to dedicate to a good, proper fuck. You’re nervous at first, heart fluttering with anticipation, and he’s quick to soothe you with doting kisses, pull you into his lap and make you dizzy with his touch, his lips. He kisses you until pleasure is smoldering down low and then he carries you to the bed- cradling you gently and laying you out, taking a moment to soak in your flushed cheeks and adoring eyes, the way your lips move with a shy, needy murmur of “Sensei.”

He gets you off once, twice before stripping down and crawling over you. It hurts a little when he slides into your wet, warm cunny but he soothes that sting with kisses and hummed praises of how good you’re doing, how you’re such a good girl for him. You’re taking me so well. You’re doing such a good job. Good girl- you’re such a good girl. Honestly, the praise is enough to have your eyes watering and your already overstimulated pussy squeezing around him.

You come before he’s fully in and he takes advantage of that wave of pleasure to slip in the rest of the way, bury himself completely in that soaked cunt that he’s been starving for. You’ll have time to sob a “sensei” but then your mind will get hazed over by the feeling of being full, by how good it feels to have your teacher rocking into your needy pussy and pressing hot, open mouthed kisses along your neck.

The first time you come on his cock it’s with his lips pressed to your forehead as he murmurs for you to come for him- to come for sensei.

The next time you come on his cock is when you’re riding him the following night- his mouth sucking on your soft breasts and your back arching as he shoots hot ropes of cum into your spasming pussy.

He’ll show you how to clean yourself after and he’ll make you come again- face buried between your thighs and his tongue eating out the creampie he had nestled deep into your cunny.

After that, it’s fair game for him to call out of class for “just a word” or to drag you from regular training for some “one on one” training. And you’re just as bad- coming to him like a bitch in heat as soon as you feel your cunny begin to tingle and begging him to fuck you, let you suck him off- sensei, please!

Of course he spares the time to do that for you- you are his favorite student after all.