#does this count as smut??

[robo-writing]

All of the 141 has a domesticity kink, the worst offenders being Price and Ghost.

Price will at least try to keep a level head about him, eyes trained to the apron that lines your figure like a second skin.

You look good like this, happily prancing in the kitchen, the smell of dinner lingering in his nose. What are you making? It doesn’t really matter, because whatever’s in that pot isn’t what’s going to satisfy him tonight.

You offer him a taste and he’s more than happy to oblige, humming constantly at the flavor of your meal. Your gleeful face makes his chest physically hurt, how the hell did he manage to keep a pretty thing like you all to himself? So happy to be his little housewife, and Price is nothing if not grateful.

He makes certain to show his gratitude the moment the stove is turned off.

Simon is much less refined, all jagged edges that makes it difficult to understand the need for a gentle touch.

You greet him in the morning in a baggy shirt—his shirt. It’s so oversized, the hem of it barely covering your panties as you work on chores around the house—makes his fingers itch to dig themselves into the soft flesh of your thighs and never let go.

His dick turns solid when you kiss him good morning. A peck of the lips really, but it’s enough to have him wanting more, the faintest whiff of familiarity hitting his nose when you pull away. It’s not long until he’s keeping you in his embrace, burying his face into your neck and groaning. You smell like him.

One moment you’re dusting shelves, the next you’re lifted into Simon’s arms. He doesn’t say much, but he doesn’t have to. His eyes give you all the answer you need.

[ozzgin]

This August, they're coming for you.

[moondvncer]

if you need me I'll be in the psych ward for the 5pm afternoon tea 🍵

[l3viat8an]

*points at ur pussy* are u gonna finish that? *tummy growls really loud*

[killerpancakeburger]

Sleeping Beauty

Gif by @no-one-fights-alone

SUMMARY: The sleeping beauty is Soap hehe. You weren't supposed to fall asleep in the rec room, but you did. When you emerge, there's someone snoozing in your lap.

PAIRING: Soap x f!Reader

TAGS: Fluff, first kiss, confessions, light/non graphic smut: dirty talk, friction, Clingy!Soap, Civilian!Reader, Smitten!Soap AND Smitten!Reader. Part of the Moaning and Blushing Soap Agenda.

WORDS COUNT: 1.8k

A/N: My thanks to the fanartists who draw Soap alseep, giving me inspiration :') been obsessed with this piece.

It was never your intention to doze off on the rec room's couch.

However, the combination of the coziness of the sofa, the bone-deep tiredness you accumulated over the work week, and the delicious warmth radiating from Soap's body eventually defeated you. The rowdy Sergeant  had always displayed a tactile kind of friendliness, but lately he was glued to you, downright clingy. 

Another person would have been irritated by this behavior quickly enough - his teammates from the 141 made it pretty clear, teasing him frequently about it, and jokingly pitying you. Nonetheless, you didn’t mind, at least outside of the bursts of heat that would overrun your face from time to time. Just when you thought you were used to him, one brush of his fingertips or one gaze from his piercing blue eyes would revive the fire in your blood. 

But just like with most things, you couldn’t say no to Johnny. Not to mention, you were seriously touch-starved; had been your whole life, to be honest. To have someone apparently addicted to the feel of your skin was like a heaven-sent gift.

This was how you ended up sitting way too close to him on the couch, thighs touching, his burly arm thrown carelessly on the backrest behind you, as the task force was enjoying some TV before heading to bed. Between vaguely paying attention to the movie, keeping up with the guys’ conversation, and fighting your own mind to forbid it from obsessing over how burning his leg felt against yours despite the barrier of your respective jeans, you were plenty busy. At least until you fell asleep without realizing.

Filled with confusion, you sluggishly blink at the half-light illuminating you. The lights have been switched off, but the TV provides enough brightness for you to figure out your surroundings. The room is silent and empty, save for the murmur emitted by the television, and your lap feels strangely heavy.

You lower your eyes to figure out that mystery, and immediately supress a yelp of surprise by pressing your hand against your mouth.

John Mactavish in the flesh is right there, sleeping like a baby. 

You can’t help but drink in this one-of-a-kind sight; you've never seen him asleep before. Never contemplated him looking so peaceful, so tranquil. There's an inherent vulnerability that comes with catching him sleeping. 

He's laying on his stomach, the side of his face pressed against your thigh, grabbing it with one hand. The way his cheek is squished by your leg is both funny and adorable. Low but regular snores escape his parted lips.

His mohawk is as ruffled as hair that short can be, and now that you’re observing it, you’re tempted to stroke it, to find out whether it is as soft as its owner. You ponder over that dilemma for a minute, biting your lip, before giving into temptation. Tentatively ruffling the top of it at first, terrified of waking him up, you gain in confidence as his hair proves to be delightfully smooth. You run your hand through the strands carefully, your touch as delicate as possible, removing some stray locks from his forehead as you go.

Eventually you stop, taking in the room around you, and thinking about how this situation can’t last. Soap really needs to reach his bed. You peek at him again.

There's a self-indulging part of you that very much desires to let him sleep, keep him in your lap and stare at him for hours. With how heavy he feels, you’re not sure you could get up even if you wanted to.

“Why'd ye stop?” he rasps, voice made hoarse by drowsiness, tone surprisingly whiny.

You barely stifle a screech, completely taken aback by his awakening.

He shoots you a look so indignant, you'd think you woke him up at 3 a.m with a bucket of ice-cold water. That, or he's a petulant child you’re waking up for school.

“Sorry…?”

Why you are apologizing, you don't even know. His expression somehow manages to make you feel guilty, so you lift your hand and caress his hair again. 

His eyes instantly close at the contact, like a cat. A pleased, satisfied “Mmmh” leaves him, as a deep rumble escapes his torso, like a purr. A blissful smile stretches his lips, sending a pang to your chest.

“Soap.”

“...”

“Johnny.”

“Mmh?”

“You need to get to your own bed.”

“Nooooo.”

He proceeds to turn his head and bury his face in your lap. Next thing you know, the hand squeezing your thigh releases you, only to sneak behind your back and grab your waist. The other slides under your legs to seize your knee.

You end up well and truly trapped in his grip.

“M great ‘ere.” he retorts, muffled by your body.

His hot breath sends tingles over your skin, and the motion of his lips against your pants provokes a throbbing between your thighs. You feel your cheeks’ temperature rise dangerously. The fact that you two are alone together is both a blessing and a curse. You’re going to give Gaz and Ghost a piece of your mind for abandoning you like that.

“Soap,” you sigh, trying your best to sound unaffected, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You can’t stay here all night.”

“Can't I?” 

The cheekiness in his voice manages to be both irritating and arousing.

“John Mactavish,” you scold, attempting to sound menacing.

“Could spend tha whole night between yer thighs, bonnie.”

Yep, that's it, your entire face is on fire. He's never been so forward before; your chest feels like it's about to burst.

Unfortunately for Johnny, your annoyance exceeds your embarrassment. This explains why your next course of action is to take hold of his mohawk and yank. 

Face finally unsticking from you, he lets out a noise that's half a grunt, half a moan, and fully obscene.

Astounded, turned on, and just a bit sheepish, you stare at him in bewildered silence as he returns your gaze, cerulean eyes wide, cheekbones and the tips of his ears bright red.

You only meant to remove him from your lap - cross your heart and hope to die. And roughen him up a little in the process as payback, but that was counting on the fact that his pain tolerance must be way beyond the average mortal's.

As you stay frozen in place, he pounces. Next thing you know, he got you pinned against the backrest, hands on each side of your head, hovering over your lap.

“Can I kiss ye?”

His voice suddenly turned so husky that the question comes out more like a growl than anything else.

“W-what?” you stutter, convinced you heard him wrong.

“Can I kiss ye? Please?” he insists, pouting.

The “please” has the effect of a punch in your sternum.

“I… you… uh.. “

His face is way too close to yours, his gaze way too intense for you to do anything else but combust on the spot.

“We shouldn't”, you mumble, looking anywhere but at him.

“Aye we can, fraternization is authorized between military and office personnel.”

That has the merit to make you look back at him, eyes wide in surprise.

“How do you..?”

“Ah checked”, he asserts like it's evident.

“You're really putting me on the spot…”

You pivot your head to the right to relieve yourself from his piercing blue eyes. That doesn't seem to deter him at all, however, as he presses his forehead against your temple.

“Well, ye tend tae run away when ah flirt wi’ ye…”

His lips brush against your cheek as he talks.

“So really, this is all yer fault. Yankin’ mah hair like that-”

“MY fault!? You’re the clingy bastard who stuck his face into my lap-”

Outraged, you face him abruptly. He must have predicted your reaction because he backed away enough to avoid a headbutt.

“Very nice lap.”

The compliment leaves you unimpressed.

“Not really,” you correct automatically, your self-consciousness deeply ingrained.

He doesn't lose his smug smirk at that.

“Oh? Need me tae demonstrate?”

His hand leaves the backrest and slips between the sofa and your leg. He grabs your thigh and lifts it slightly, then slowly trails the tips of two fingers from the edge of your ass until the back of your knee, sending suggestive tickles all over your lower body.

You stare in anticipation, voice stuck somewhere in your throat.

“Bonnie? Ah'm not hearin’ a no, but ah'm not hearin’ a yes either-”

“Yes,” you murmur.

He tilts his head questioningly, smile teasing.

“Wha’ was that? Didn’t catch-”

“I said yes, you-,” you assert, riled again, loud enough that he cannot pretend to have missed it.

His mouth presses against yours almost immediately, so eager that your back hits the backrest. You close your eyes and interlace your fingers behind his neck.

His hands feel everywhere at once, like he can’t get enough of you. As for you, the accumulation of sensations threatens to overwhelm you, so you clench your hands into fists to hold on, one desperately clutching the other's wrist.

Lost in his embrace, you forget yourself. At the feeling of his muscular thigh between your legs, you grind against it thoughtlessly.

Soap reacts instantly, abandoning your lips for a moment, despite you chasing after his.

“Humpin’ my leg, ae? Ye naughty girl… ah can give ye so much better than mah leg.”

Regardless of his comment, he pushes back against your crotch.

“But if that's what ye want… ah'll give ye anythin’. Everythin’ ye want, baby. Ah'll be so good to ye, promise.”

The sweet vows falling from his filthy mouth makes you hang onto him tighter, as if you were trying to fusionate your two bodies.

“...Everything,” you reply softly after kissing him some more.

“Wha…?”

Taking Johnny by surprise is not something that you manage often. But oh, how the view is worth it.

He withdrews a bit, face flushed, mowhawk tousled, gaping, eyebrows lightly frowned in incomprehension.

“What if I want everything? All of you?” 

You cup his cheek affectionately. Your own boldness surprises you, but this whole situation feels like a dream anyway - maybe it is one -, so you might as well make the best of it. Soap has never been one to be stingy with compliments, so the least you can do is return the favor.

“You're amazing, Soap. You’re so brave, and smart, strong, selfless, and goodhearted, caring… and you have the prettiest eyes I've ever - mmh.”

He seemed pretty captivated by your words, listening religiously, until something snapped and he crushed his lips against yours.

After making you dizzy, he releases you, beaming. You remember hearing Price calling him “sunshine”. He's always been luminous, but now he's downright blinding.

“I love ye. IloveyeIloveyeIloveye.”

He chants fervently while covering your face in ardent kisses.

“Ye don't have tae say it back,” he adds hastily afterwards, like distressed he'd scare you away.

“Ye don't have tae say anythin. Ah just… can’t contain it anymore…”

“I love you too,” you cut in.

The words came out more easily than you expected. Almost naturally. It makes sense in a way - you’ve been enamored for a while after all.

You two seal your mutual confessions with an enthousiastic kiss.

BLOOPERS

[b1mbodoll]

I’m gonna cry plsssss more werewolf jake pls i need him so bad 😫

pairings: sim jaeyun x f! reader

warnings: werewolf! jake + predator / prey + knotting + spit / drool + anal + fingering + pussyjob ?? + biting

💌: you guys can blame lulu for the predator + prey / chase bit because she made me insane 🩷

werewolf! jake lives for the chase. he loves to hunt down his little human girlfriend in the woods, letting you get a headstart before running after you and using his canine instincts to track you down. his ears twitch at the sound of twigs snapping, inhaling deeply in the hopes of catching your scent and when he does, his tail wags behind him as he makes his way in your direction.

the fear and adrenaline coursing through your veins keep you going, pushing deeper and deeper into the maze of trees, panting heavily as exhaustion creeps up on you, much like, unbeknownst to you, jaeyun was as well.

he makes sure to keep quiet as he sneaks up on you, circling you like the apex predator he is. it’s quiet and you think you still have a fighting chance, until jake finally pounces, forcing you to submit. he uses his inhuman strength to pin you down, face down ass up before shredding your clothes. you do your best to look back at him and the sight almost scares you, he’s grinning wickedly and nearly salivating as he has his way with you.

you lay there, pliant and submissive while jake continues to feel you up, pawing at your tits with one hand as the other slides between your legs, your cunt dripping with arousal and it takes everything in you not to moan when the rough pads of his fingers circle your clit.

“you’re all mine,” jake starts, eyeing your holes. “i caught you. i can do whatever i want to you, right, pup?” although it’s a question, you know that no matter what you say to him he’ll use you however he pleases.

nonetheless you nod your head as best you can, grimacing at the feeling of the dirt beneath you. the werewolf smirks at your confirmation. “attagirl.”

his thick fingers slip inside of your messy cunt and you gasp at the intrusion, walls clamping around him as they fill you up and stretch you out. your juices coat the digits and he pulls them out only to rub the tight rim of your asshole, pushing his middle finger inside and groaning, making sure to lubricate your hole with your own slick.

although he’s impatient, jakey isn’t completely cruel. he knows his cock is big, maybe even too big for you, so he finishes teasing your hole and mounts you, gliding his length between your pussy to collect more of your arousal.

it’s thick and wet between your folds, precum dribbling steadily from his tip and you reach for it, using your hand to completely drench his dick and minimize the discomfort of what’s about to happen.

“that’s a good pup — fuck — keep strokin’ my cock, just like that.” your hand falters at the praise, mind foggy as fatigue takes its toll on your body. “unless you want it to hurt, i don’t mind.” he sneers.

you can’t bring yourself to continue and jake takes that as your answer, pulling back to spit on your hole before lining his tip with your entrance. he places a palm on your asscheek, groping and pulling to watch the way your empty hole begs for him.

“gentle, jakey.”

he rolls his eyes. “yeah right.”

he forces his cock into your asshole, pushing deeper until you squeal and squirm. he’s only halfway in and you’re already crying? pathetic, he thinks. despite your struggling, he continues to fuck into you and you’re afraid he’ll break you from the girth. will you even be able to take his knot?

it seems you’re the only one worried; jake leans forward and presses his chest to your back, grunting and groaning in your ear as he thrusts into you at a rough pace. tears gather in your lashline, whimpering as he continues to stretch your hole more than you thought possible, driving his cock deep inside.

he nearly howls when you clench around him, his furry tail thumping on the ground and he begs you to do it again, his cock twitching when you obey.

jake’s orgasm hits him hard, dropping his head and resting it on your shoulder, his knot inflating and rope after rope of warm, sticky cum splashes within you, clinging to your walls. there’s so much of his seed in your ass with nowhere to go, the swollen bulge keeping the two of you locked together.

your wolfboy’s climax was intense and it leaves him drooling, his mouth falls open and his sharp canines are too close to your soft skin, making you squeeze him once again from the fear of them sinking into you.

the vice grip you have on him makes jake almost.. feral and he grounds himself by biting you, teeth tearing into your nape and he growls when you wince, only closing his eyes to wait out his knot after you relax and allow him to keep his canines within you.

[tofics]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could write something about dean reacting to you getting your 🍒's pierced or him even finding out that they have been. Totally totally okay if not LOVE your work 🫶

Eeeek, my first request ever!!! 🤩 For that alone I'm inclined to make this as perfect as possible, but due to post-holiday brain-rot I can make no promises about the actual quality of what I'm about to produce. 🙈 I immediately had two ideas when I read this, so you're getting both.

Version 1 is just funny, whereas version 2 has a slight bit of angst to it, still a funny ending though. Hope you enjoy! 🤗

Warnings: nipple piercings, bare titties, exposing your 🍒's in front of strangers (willingly), some bleeding, canon typical violence (monster death)

POV: Dean finds out you got your nips pierced.

Version 1 "Sam, don't! He could be the shapeshifter, for all we know!" Dean pulled his brother back by the jacket. "A - a what?" The man in front of you stammered, his eyes blown wide in fear. You quickly hushed him. "It's okay, just get in there!" You were convinced this guy wasn't the shapeshifter. You knew it in your gut, but you knew that explanation wouldn't fly with Dean.

The four of you quickly pressed into the small bathroom. Dean had his gun pointed at the guy's throat, who was nervously eyeing the weapon. "It's okay", you assured him in a hushed whisper. "We'll get you out of here. Just give him the spoon, Sam." You nodded at the younger Winchester, who in turn started prodding his jacket. One pocket, another, then a quiet curse.

"I must've dropped it!"

You glanced at Sam in disbelief. Dean grunted, though he didn't take his eyes off of the stranger.

"Now what?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't have anything else silver on me. Do you?"

"I got lots of silver bullets," Dean growled, still clearly convinced that the poor soul trapped in this bathroom with you was the monster you were looking for. The man yelped quietly.

"Not helpful, Dean," you hissed, but the hunter just grunted.

"You got any better ideas?"

Silence filled the air as all three of you pondered over your current predicament. Then a lightbulb went off in your brain.

"I do, actually."

With swift movements, you handed your gun over to Sam and then began pulling your sweater off.

"Uh - what are you doing?" Sam stared at you like you had lost your mind and even Dean was glancing over at you as you began peeling your top upwards.

"My nipple piercings are made of silver," you explained casually. Sam's eyes grew wide while a vein popped out on Dean's temple. The man you were trying to save looked like he was trying very hard to look anywhere but at you. "If Dean's bullets are the only other silver thing we got, then I don't see any other way than this. I'm not blowing some guy's brain out just to be on the safe side," you continued.

Your top went over your head, leaving you in nothing but your bra from the waist upwards. Sam's face had a funny color and Dean looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. His eyes briefly traveled down to your exposed cleavage, then quickly flicked back up to your face. "You can't be serious," Sam cut in.

"About my nipples being pierced or the piercings being silver?"

"About letting this guy touch you."

You brushed Sam's concern off with a tut. "Oh, hush. Don't be so prude. Now, go on," you said and undid the clasp of your bra with swift fingers.

Three loud inhales sounded as you revealed your boobs to the room. Sam's eyes immediately went towards the ceiling. The stranger briefly glanced at your tits with a pained expression before following suit with Sam, mumbling something about how surely, all of this just had to be a weird dream. Dean, however, took a good long look before a smile whisked across his lips.

"When'd you get this done?" He whispered with an appreciative tone.

"Couple of months ago," you replied, smiling back at him. "You like it?"

"Like it? Sweetheart, I-"

"Guys," Sam interrupted, eyes still glued to the ceiling.

"Right, right, sorry." You reached for the man's hand who jumped when your hand touched his. "Go on, dude. Just put a hand on it so we know you're good."

The guy made no move to do much of anything, so you gently lifted his hand to your chest until it made contact with one of your piercings. "Just a dream, just a dream," the man mumbled with his head still turned upwards and away from you. "Maybe I'm a shapeshifter too," Dean mumbled, his eyes on the man's hand pressed to your boob.

You grinned in reply. "See? He's good." The man's hand showed no signs of injury as you lifted it off of your chest again. "Now how about I get dressed again and we go find the actual son-of-a-bitch?"

Version 2 Sure, people warn against getting body alterations done under the influence of alcohol all the time. It's sort of an unwritten rule, the kind of common-sense one is just expected to have. But as booze tends to do, it prefers to link up with mischief instead. Common-sense is just so boring. Such a goody-two-shoes. The nay-sayer of all genius ideas. And clearly, that's what getting your nipples pierced is: a genius fucking idea.

At least so you thought last night while out and about with Jo. The two of you had teamed up in an effort to drink your shared sorrows away: you'd just come back from yet another hunt during which you'd felt belittled by Dean yet again, and Jo was in the midst of another heated fight with Elle about being allowed out for a hunt at all - again. Each dismissal had lit the fire of injustice within the both of you, and while your first few drinks were meant to quench the flames, they had the opposite effect, acting like fuel instead.

Soon, both you and Jo were slurring your respective rambles about your 'suppressors'.

"Just isn't fair." Jo slammed her fist down on the bar top, earning herself a quick glance from the bartender.

You shook your head woefully. "It isn't. They just don't see us. It's like we're invisible. Or babies. Invisible babies."

Jo pointed her finger at you. "Exactly! Invisible babies. But we're not! We're grown women, god dammit! Women! Would babies have boobs like that?" Her finger swayed from your face to your cleavage, followed diligently by the guy who sat two seats down from you. Your chin dropped to your chest as you glanced at your own boobs before meeting the eyes of the sleazy guy two seats over. A sluggish grin crawled over your lips. "Nice, aren't they?" A toothy grin appeared on the other patron's face. "Sure are, baby, sure are," he called back, causing you to look at Jo with triumph in your eyes. "See? He agrees too. No baby would have boobs like that."

Jo nodded, her head bobbing up and down in a wobbly fashion. "Cause he sees us. Not like my mom. Or Dean." She scowled, then downed another shot the bartender had dutifully lined up for you at your signal.

"We jus' gotta find a way to show 'em," you slurred. "Way to show how badass we are. Hmm." You nodded to yourself like you'd just said the most profound thing.

A moment of silence passed between you two girls before Jo's face suddenly lit up. "I got an idea."

As genius as it had seemed to you four shots in, the next morning, you weren't so sure anymore that piercing your nipples had been a genius move. It did look amazing (one glance in the mirror in the morning after waking up confused why your nips felt so damn sore had convinced you of that easily), but you still needed some convincing about the practicality of it as you got dressed and put on your clothes for the day. It proved as your first challenge: a bra was immediately out of the question after feeling how tight the material pressed against your sensitive and raw skin. You threw on a large, comfy t-shirt instead and paired it with an even larger sweater. Oversized clothes to the rescue.

As expected, your drinking spectacle of last night didn't go unnoticed by either of the boys. Sam's "Whoa, you look rough" got quickly followed up by a dry snort from Dean at the sight of you. "Jesus, you and Jo empty half a liquor store or something?" You only grumbled something unintelligible as a response while you fixed yourself some coffee from the small breakfast spread your motel offered.

While you nursed your coffee, Dean and Sam made a plan for the day. Their mission yesterday had been a bust - the empty factory had, in fact, not been the hiding place of the shapeshifter that the three of you were after, which left it still roaming about. You didn't partake in the planning process, partially due to your hangover, but mostly due to the fact that you were still hung up on your exclusion. For your own safety. Dean's reasoning had felt like a punch in the gut. Did he still not trust your abilities?

"Hey." You were pulled back to the present by fingers snapping in front of your face. "You with us?" Dean's eyes were searching your face as you zeroed back in on him. You grunt for a response had one of his brows raising, but he didn't comment on it, instead pulling you aside when the three of you headed out towards the parking lot.

"Are you okay?" You knew that look. Dean's scrutinizing gaze roamed over your face to look for the subtlest of clues. You'd made your protest heard loud and clear yesterday, and you read the subtext in his question with ease. Are we okay? You inhaled deeply as you stalled to answer. You were still upset with him, but you didn't have it in you to discuss his views on your involvement during hunts in your current state. Your head was pounding too much, and your nipples faintly felt like someone was holding a lighter to them. "Yeah. I'm okay," you responded with a sigh. Dean looked like he was about to object, clearly not buying your answer, but just then, Sam called out for the two of you.

Genius fucking idea. You gritted your teeth as you sprinted after the shapeshifter. Of course you'd end up in action the one day you didn't wear a bra. As if chasing supernatural beings wasn't challenging enough, you were now forced to awkwardly press your arms under your boobs for support as you ran down the damp alleyway. Because of your makeshift-bra, your gun was holstered between your hands right under your tits, aiming directly forward. It wasn't a safe way to run, nor a comfortable one, but you didn't have time to ponder either of those facts. The shapeshifter was getting away, and you couldn't let that happen.

You saw it turning a corner a couple hundred feet ahead of you and dashed after it, tits squeezed together in front of your chest like they were your main weapon and not your gun. The fabric of your shirt rubbed over your freshly pierced nips like sandpaper on wood and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself focused on the monster chase instead of the pain.

When you skid around the corner, you found the shapeshifter trapped between yourself and Dean on the other end of the back alley. It's head spun back and forth between you and him like a trapped animal and for a moment, it felt like time had frozen. Your eyes briefly flicked over to Dean, whose brows were furrowed in concentration and determination, and he shook his head at you ever so slightly.

The flush of anger inside your belly was hot and instant, yet before you had time to react, a loud shriek echoed through the alleyway and the shapeshifter launched itself your way.

It all happened so quickly that you acted more out of instinct than on rational thought. The kicks and blows to your body barely registered before a gunshot rang through the air and the monster's lifeless body dropped to the ground in front of you.

You stared at it, panting. The adrenaline coursing through your veins felt like fire being pumped through your body. It took you a second to register Dean's voice through the ringing in your ears.

"Hey. Hey. You okay? Are you hurt?" Hands were gripping you by the shoulders and you were spun sideways. You blinked a couple of times as Dean came into focus in front of you, concern etched into every fine line on his face. "Talk to me," he urged as his eyes feverishly scanned you up and down. You shook your head faintly, still dazed. "I'm fine." You'd taken down the shapeshifter yourself. You'd done it. You'd kicked ass.

A slow smile spread on your face as the realization set in. You had taken down a shapeshifter all by yourself. In front of Dean, no less. Now he had to see you.

"We got it, Sammy. Yeah. It's done. Uh-huh. No, she took it out." Dean glanced over at you as the two of you walked back to his car. You were still smiling smugly ear to ear. Dean looked like he'd been forced to eat a lemon whole.

"What d'you think? Of course not." He growled into the phone. You could imagine Sam's question without having heard it. You let her come? Dean had ordered you to stay in the car of course. But then you'd seen the shapeshifter run by. Who in their right mind would've stayed in their car at the sight?

"Uh-huh. Yeah. We'll meet you back at the motel." Dean hung up. Anger radiated off of him in quiet, shaky waves. Under any other circumstance, you would've been quaking in your boots right about now, wary of the storm that was about to come your way any second now. But not today. Today, you were flying high, fueled on by your win.

Dean settled into the driver's seat, but didn't start the car. Here we go, you thought. Speech incoming. Yet it didn't come. When you turned your head to look at him, you didn't find Dean staring you down, but frowning at your chest instead.

"You're bleeding."

Your own forehead crinkled up as you looked down on yourself. Two deep red spots were starting to bloom on your chest, right where... Crap.

You quickly slung an arm over your chest, covering up the two spots. "I, uh. It's fine." Though it felt anything but. You hadn't noticed it in the moment, but the monster had apparently struck you in the chest, right across your boobs. Your fresh piercings had seemingly not appreciated that move in the least. Now that you had been made aware of it, your nipples felt like they were on fire, pain striking through each boob like a spasm.

Dean's jaw tensed. In one swift move, he leaned in and plucked your arm from your chest, exposing the bloody spots on your sweater that were slowly growing in size. You could see his frown deepening as he examined your injuries. Warmth crept up your neck and into your cheeks.

"It's not fine. What did he do? I can't see puncture wounds. Why are you bleeding?"

Whatever triumph you had felt just a moment ago had ebbed away and was now being replaced by the icky sticky feeling of shame. You turned your head so he wouldn't see the embarrassment coloring you the same color as the spots on your sweater, but Dean spoke your name in a soft, yet stern voice.

You knew he wouldn't let this go.

You sighed deeply. "I got my nipples pierced." Your voice was barely above a murmur. Heat blazed from your cheeks and pain throbbed in your wounded nips.

For the first time ever since meeting Dean Winchester, he did not hit you with a quick comeback. The lack of a snarky reply was so jarring that you looked back at him, despite the embarrassment shining bright in your cheeks like Rudolph's nose.

Dean's face seemed to be frozen in a state somewhere between surprise and amusement. You stared at him for a moment before scoffing. "Just get it out." His eyes flickered from the bloody spots on your torso to your eyes and back, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Get what out?"

"The comments. Whatever you're dying to say. I know you've got some stupid shit already cooking in that brain of yours," you scoffed, and as if on cue, mischief glinted in his eyes.

"Actually," Dean started and flung a casual arm across your seat. "I think it's kind of hot."

The lack of reprimand caught you off guard so much that you could only stare at him.

"But I am gonna need details. Was it Jo's idea? Or yours?" Dean flashed a widespread grin at you and started the car. He was clearly enjoying himself.

You could only roll your eyes and groan.

"You know, I'll have to check when we're back. See how injured you are. Patch you up," he continued, the grin now stretching so wide that it almost went from ear to ear.

"Not a chance, Winchester."

Dean only snickered in return.

Divider credit: @saradika-graphics

[holyprncess]

no bc why i was too damn horny and started imagining vi fucking me slow with the strap to say yes. eye contact and alllllll.. nghh.. black people please tell me the vision is seen

[3d-wifey]

PLEASE PLEASE I NEED A READER WHO'S JUST AS MUCH OF A FERAL FREAK AS LOGAN JUST IDC WHAT HER MUTATION IS, JUST MAKE IT ANIMALISTIC SO THEY CAN HAVE FREAK NASTY SMUT

Back to the Kitty (Cus She's Kinda Pretty)

Pairing: Logan James "The Wolverine" Howlett x Lynx!reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: smut heehee, uh munch logan supremacy, hybrid au (?), NSFW, NSFT

A/N: This has been my man since 2000 and I was only born in 2004, I'm so happy he's fucking FINALLY GETTING LOVE GOD DAMN. Reader is implied to be black but you can still read it if you aren't, as always. Also, it's been shown in canon again and again that Logan is weak to the whims of a pretty woman, especially early Logan, so dont give me no goddamn lip about this being unrealistic.

Tags: @yvy1s @innercreationflower

Logan stares at the wooden door long after Summers leaves. He scoffs, irritated. Something about the Boy Scout rubs him the wrong way. He rolls his eyes. "Prick."

"I see you've met Scott." Logan spins around, and sees… No one. There couldn't be another telepath rummaging around in his head. Between one blink and the next, a woman appears on what's supposed to be his bed. "He's not so bad once you get to know him. Then again, he's not so good either. He's a real mixed bag."

Logan gapes at the relaxed figure lounging on his bed. His senses snap to attention—your scent is all over his room as if it's always been there.

Your heartbeat is fast but steady. He sniffs. Your scent, cool like snow, makes him nostalgic for the Canadian wilderness. It’s tinged with something familiar—an intrinsic note of his own scent. Something he caught on that Sabertooth freak earlier. Animalistic. 

Feral.

As he takes in your appearance, memories of the wilderness flash through his mind. He'd heard stories about people, people like them living off the grid, protecting wildlife and using their powers to evade detection. Maybe you were one of them. A guardian of the wild, hidden from civilization up till now. Maybe he was too.

"What the hell is going on here?" Logan grits his teeth, sick and tired of surprises. You tilt your head, pointed ears twitching, the black tufts catching his attention.

You're lying on your stomach, facing him. Your knees are bent, ankles crossed and swinging.

"You teleport in here or something?" He takes cautious steps towards you, spotting the sharply curved claws in place of toenails—easy weapons. One good kick could slit his throat.

A mix of gray and beige fur trails up from the front of your feet, all the way up your thighs to disappear past the leg of your shorts. It's the same shade as the hair on your head.

"Nope." You barely acknowledge him, grooming the fur along your forearm like one of those big cats. He lingers on the movement, intrigued. The slight tilt of your head, long pink tongue peaking out as it travels the length of your forearm to your knuckles and then back again, holds his attention. "I've been here the whole time.”

“I would’ve smelled you." 

“But ‘ya didn’t,” you chuckle and it feels like you’re rubbing it in his face.

“That's impossible.” He scoffs, shaking his head. 

Sharp, amber eyes lock onto him, reflective and cat-like. He freezes, instincts on edge, the hair on his nape standing as vertical pupils assess him coolly. 

Logan’s eyes flicker away to the exit—only for a split second. But when he looks back, the bed is empty. He whips around to the door, heart pounding in confusion because it's…it's still closed.

Where—? 

“How the hell—”

His jaw doesn't drop but it's a near damn thing. This is freaky, freakier than the regular freakiness he's come to expect after walking into this school.

"Still here." You purr from behind him, the sound of your voice sending a shiver down his spine. He turns back, and there you are again, lounging like you never moved. He takes a deep breath, trying, and failing, to steady himself. 

"You mind explaining how you're doing that?" He asks, hoping he sounds more annoyed than unsettled. He can tell by the playful glint in your eye that he doesn't. 

“And if I do mind?” You say, but he doesn’t rise to the bait, which is what this all is, he realizes. You smirk. "I told you, boy. I've been here the whole time. Long enough to see you strike out with Jeanie."

Logan scowls more at the mention of Jean than being called ‘boy’. Just what he needs—another reminder of the happy couple. 

But how had he missed you? Jean wasn't that distracting. It gnaws at him. He doesn’t like it, the idea of his senses betraying him.

"Yeah, well, it's not exactly easy getting a read on you when you’re playing hide and seek."

You tilt your head, studying him. "Maybe you’re just not looking hard enough."

"Or maybe…” He steps closer, his instincts screaming at him to stay on guard despite your eyes compelling him to do otherwise. “You're just really good at hiding."

Your eyes meet his, a challenge in your gaze that he's not sure he's the right guy to take on. "Then I guess you'll have to get better at seeking.”

Logan's mind races as he processes the confrontation. He isn't used to feeling off balance, the one on the back foot. Usually, he's the one doing the intimidating, the one making others question their next move. 

But with you, it's different. There's a raw, untamed energy about you that draws him in and sets him on edge at the same time. You're not just another mutant, he knows that much. Like none he's ever met before; you're something more, something savage that mirrors the part of himself he tries to keep under control. The part that craves the hunt, the chase.

He comes to stand near the bed, slowly reaching out to check if you're real or just some kind of projection. You stare up at him, amused, and allow his calloused hand to meet the warm skin of your shoulder.

"I don't understand," Logan mutters and it feels like admitting defeat.

"I didn't want you to see me. So you didn't." You shrug, and even that looks graceful. It takes him a second to get there, but it dawns on him in much the same way your sudden appearance did. Some kind of mental camouflage. Not like prey blending in to hide, but a predator lying in wait before striking.

"But I couldn't even smell you anymore." It's one thing to trick his mind, but it should be impossible to trick his nose. He bares his teeth. "I've had enough of people messing with my head."

You say nothing. Instead, you grin, baring your own teeth right back and revealing elongated canines that glint under the low light. His eyes are drawn to their sharp edges. They're sharper than his own. How easily could you sink them into something? He wagers it wouldn't take much effort at all.

"Down, boy." You cackle, not even doing his ego the service of pretending to be threatened. "Unless you wanna see whose bite is really worse than their bark." You raise a brow at him expectantly.

He scowls, crossing his arms. He's not backing down, but something about this whole encounter is throwing him off. Your self-assuredness is doing something to him, and he's not sure what to make of it.

He regards you warily, taking slow measured steps around the bed. "So… What’s your deal? You’re not a teleporter or a telepath? Great. Then what the hell are you?"

"Hm," You hum deep in your chest, resting your chin on your palm as you track his movements. He figures you aren't gonna maul him in his own room. "Don't worry, your nose isn't failing you," you snort, and his confidence in you not being a telepath drops significantly. "I cloaked myself. Completely. Not even the professor can find me if I don't want him to. I can even trick all that fancy tracking technology. So don't feel too bad."

It's a bunch of smoke and mirrors. Well, it's better than you messing with his head. Impressive too.

"Huh. How 'bout that." He licks his lips and holds out a hand. "Name's Logan."

"I heard." You take his hand in your surprisingly strong grip, turning it palm down instead of shaking it. "I was curious about the new guy. Wanted to see if you'd be worth holding my attention." You drag a feather-light finger along his knuckles, circling them, then rubbing the almost perpetually red divots where his claws are hidden. For whatever reason, he lets you. The barely there touch makes the hair on his arm stand up, fingers twitching in your hold. He only just fights back the desire to lean into it.

"S’that so?" He smirks. "And what do you think now that you've seen me?"

"Well, first impressions, I'm not disappointed." Those stunning eyes rove over him, lingering on the sweatpants he borrowed. He preens under your gaze, understanding Scott even less now. Don't get him wrong, Jean seems like a great girl. But how could he possibly see a woman like you and leave you to your lonesome? Hell, his loss is Logan's gain. Slim couldn't handle you anyway. "But the rest depends."

"On?"

"You. I've been so bored here. Keeping clean, prowling the straight and narrow. What do you say, Logan?" You purr, bringing your free hand up to ghost over his leg, and the muscles in his thigh flex under your touch. "You think you can keep me entertained?"

He arches a brow. "You got a name?" He husks, at some point coming close enough to stand over you.

"No," you reply, his brows furrowing in response. Though he guesses he's got no room to judge. He only knows his name because of his dog tags. "The kids just call me Lynx, for whatever that's worth. Guess it stuck.”

"I can see why." He looks you over, taking you and all your curves in as you rise up to your knees to sit on your haunches. You're wearing a tank. A very thin tank. He can see the shape and heft of your tits, and even though you feel far from cold, he can see the white fabric rubbing against your hard nipples. The name fits you, but Minx would've been his suggestion. "And... What exactly do you do around here? Other than skulking in other people's rooms." He asks, not masking his curiosity.

You pull him onto the bed beside you. He doesn't bounce but the springs squeak under his weight.

He can’t picture you teaching those little brats anything. Maybe you could teach them how to gut a man like a pig, but something tells Logan that might just offend the professor’s sensibilities.

Your top lip pulls up into a snarl, a predator's smile, it draws him in instead of warning him away.

"I'm not too good at the whole guiding the minds of our future thing. For now, I have to hone my powers and learn how to integrate back into proper society." If the wording wasn't enough to tell Logan you're copying Chuck word for word, then the accent you put on does the trick.

Your grip on his hand tightens, pressing a hidden pressure point. Logan’s breath catches as his claws unsheathe, the metallic sound slicing through the air. His eyes lock onto yours, trying to read the intention behind this sudden, intimate maneuver. He smells it instead—musky, semi-sweet—and heat pools low in his stomach, hardening him against his thigh.

You shift, straddling him with feline grace, knees on either side of his hips. His free hand instinctively grips your waist to steady you, though it's clear you don't need his help.

Your long tongue runs along his knuckles—warm, wet, and a little rough. He exhales heavily at the sensation.

His mouth drops open with a pant, watching closely. You trail the muscle up the blades—he shouldn't feel it so viscerally, but he does. He can practically feel the flicks of your tongue in his damn spine—and he smells the rich iron in the air before he sees crimson bleed along his claws.

He can smell you getting wetter too. Whether it's from the blood or the sharpness of his claws is anyone's guess. Logan's hold on you tightens, his hand sliding to your lower back as he pulls you closer, a low growl rumbling in his chest

He watches, fascinated, as your split tongue knits itself back together. It's bizarre, witnessing such rapid healing on someone else. The sight stirs something primal within him.

Blood drips down your chin, a stark contrast against your skin. 

He wants to follow it. So he does, pushing into your space to chase it up your chin and into your mouth.

You gasp, soft and sweet, at the contact, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer. Running, thankfully, dull nails along his scalp. The metallic taste mingles with the warmth of your mouth as he kisses you deeply, a groan sitting low in his throat.

The kiss, meanwhile, isn't soft or sweet. It's biting and bitter with the taste of your blood, mixing with his own when you bite his bottom lip, fangs piercing the meat as easily as he predicted they would. It makes his head hazy with some kind of bloodlust. Or maybe just regular lust. The two are more intertwined now than ever before. At least as far as Logan can remember, which admittedly isn't saying much. He's got no idea how to begin separating them and he doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t remember the last time he's tasted blood other than his own. It makes him groan as he squeezes the fat around your hips in a bruising grip—hard enough to make you moan. He knows you can handle it, handle him.

You pull away, a string of pink saliva connecting your lips to his.

Something kicks Logan into gear, and, without really thinking about the movement, he leans back down, his lips brushing against your chin to lap up the rest of the blood.

"You showed me yours; only fair I show you mine." You unsheathe your own claws, as pretty and deadly as you are. They're about two inches long and even sharper than those teeth.

"Now, how the hell did they manage to domesticate a wild thing like you?" In this pristine and civilized place, you stand out even more than he does. For a creature like you, it must be akin to captivity.

You laugh, though it sounds closer to a chuff. "I was out in the wilderness, hiding the lynxes from poachers and loggers." You say, hooking a claw in the zipper of his hoodie and tugging it down, exposing his bare chest and stomach to your exploring hands. "Saved as many as I could. Spent years out there like that."

“And the professor found you?" Logan asks, intrigued despite himself and despite all the blood in his head rushing to his dick.

"Eventually," you nod, a hint of a smirk playing on your lips, what he's beginning to think is their natural state. "But not before a lot of poachers ended up dead, wondering why they couldn't find a single lynx."

"You hid them," Logan says, tilting his head back. You don't hesitate to take the bait, swooping down to stitch your lips to his neck. You bite more than you suck, breaking skin as you go and not letting how fast the wounds disappear deter you from making more. He grunts, bucking hips coaxed by your own.

"You're not the only one hiding out from the metal man." Your lips drag against his skin as you speak. Lips and teeth and tongue and—

"Fuck." He hisses. His hips buck again and you meet the movement head-on, swiveling your hips like you're riding a bull.

Magneto wants you too then, Logan thinks, dazed.

"So what?" He breathes, dragging the both of you further up the bed, "Now you're fighting the good fight for animals and mutants?"

"Something like that. Don't tell Xavier, but it really just came down to Jean and Oruro being more persuasive than that big brute Magneto sent for me."

He laughs. "I can believe it."

"Now," you grind your hips down, hitting the perfect angle, "do you wanna hear my life story, or do you wanna fuck me?" You say with a grunt. And when you put it like that, the choice is pretty fucking clear.

He twists around, switching your position with you on your back and him hovering over you.

You've got a mischievous look in your lidded eyes as you hump each other through your clothes, sinking your nails into his ass. He flinches, thrusting against you hard enough to push you up the bed, and snarls in your face.

You laugh as he flips you onto your stomach and yanks your hips up. Moans sprinkle through when he presses up against your ass, dick grinding into you. He can feel how hot you are through your thin shorts. You're soaked, enough to turn the fabric of his sweats a darker gray.

Just the smell of you is straining the cotton around his dick, he wants—no needs more. So he leans down, gripping your shorts and ripping a hole down the middle, finding you wetter than he imagined.

You gasp, peeking over your shoulder at him, but he's already on the move. 

He mumbles a gruff fuck as he watches your pussy clench around nothing. He goes to pull himself out but thinks of a better idea.

He wants your cunt in his mouth and he tells you as much. You smirk, more fang than gum, and sway your hips side to side, like you're daring him to take what he wants. He does.

He buries his nose in your snatch and takes a whiff, you moan, grinding back against his face, leaving slick on his nose and cheeks. He lets you, encourages it, even, by gripping your hips and growling deep in his chest. Fur soft where his facial hair is rough, sticking in wet peaks from how much your cunt is drooling.

He sticks his tongue out, not as long as yours, but long enough to get the job done as he buries it into you. Coaxing out more slick and cum as your fluttering warmth squeezes him. 

“Logan,” You moan into his pillow, likely leaving it wet with licking and biting, the same way he's planning on leaving the blanket under you wet with your cum. He grinds against the bed, letting his own need build steadily in his gut and up his spine, the animalistic urge to devour you stronger than anything else.

The taste of you, as heady as you smell, settles heavily on his tongue and down his throat as you rock back and forth, twisting and whining like the wild thing you are.

He leans back just enough to take one of your pussy lips into his mouth, sucking as you take in hitching breaths above him, moving to the other side to give it the same treatment, before circling back to your clit.

He spits on your fluttering hole, licking it back up, and spitting again and he almost thinks you came then and there from how loud you get.

Your thighs are shaking and you're wet enough for him to skip to two fingers right away. He pushes his spit, and his scent, deep into you, stretching you around his thick fingers as he bites at the back of your thighs. You arch your back like a, well, like a cat in heat.

He fucks you on his fingers hard enough that your body shakes with each thrust. He feels the rapid build-up inside of you, shaking and fluttering as he mumbles against your clit about how good you taste and smell, how wet you are for him. 

He feels you come as much as he sees it, your body locking up before abruptly loosening. He pets your flank, “Atta girl.” His voice is rougher than before as you twitch. Soaking his fingers as you lazily hump his hand, making little gasps and whines that he would have thought of as wounded if he didn’t feel how tightly your walls are gripping him.

You lift your head, something satisfied yet still challenging in your amber eyes that makes his hands go to pull his pants down, using your slick to stroke himself, and he knows his pillow will be littered with puncture marks from your teeth and claws, the thought is enough to make him twitch in his hand, a bead of pre that he swipes with his thumb.

He pauses before offering his finger to you, knowing he made the right choice of staying here when you wrap plump lips around his thumb, hollowing your cheeks and sucking like it's his dick.

You pull back, just enough to lick the mixture of the both of you off of his palm, mumbling a demand. “Fuck me, Logan.”

And who is he to deny you when you’re looking at him like that? Wet and wild, curves and claws wrapped up in golden fur like a gift, just for him.

He smirks, “Yes, ma’am.”

[siddyyyyyyyy]

!MDNI!

Drink the Potion!

Fairy!Dick Grayson x Reader

wc: 1.6 K summary: Dick Grayson accidentally turns into a tiny fairy and you take care of him. warnings: masturbation, overstimulation, dry humping, riding

From the moment that unusal magician Villian transformed Dick into a tiny sized fairy, it was a hell of a few days trying to get along with the new change. You‘ve been trying to contact John Constantine to fix it, but it seems like he has more important things to take care of right now.

So, you have taken it into your own hands, as his usual mission partner to take care of him while he is stuck in that tiny sized form. He looks exactly the same, except that he is literally the size of your palm. Well, a little bigger than that, but still… it‘s comically small. You made sure to get him food in smaller portions, getting him a bath in your bathroom sink with drops of soap for him to use, and he can sleep wherever he wants. Of course, he settles on sleeping near you without you crushing him.

Beside the few negative aspects of the situation, it‘s actually funny seeing him fuss over certain things he can‘t do nowadays. For example, change into different clothes since he‘s been thankfully shrinked together with his suit. That‘s why he is basically stuck in it before someone can get him back into his actual size. But there is also one more thing that has changed since then.

He became way more horny. You didn‘t notice at first because he was hiding it as best as he could. Until you caught him shamelessly jerking off under your blanket. It was nighttime, and you thought he had already settled into bed and fell asleep as usual, but he proved you wrong once you opened your blanket.

There lays Dick on full display, lazily stroking his cock while locking eyes with you and grinning lightly at your shocked expression. You don‘t know why, but you weren‘t really mad at him for it. Everyone has their needs, right? And it just so happened that his needy hormones spiked up in that tiny body of his. How could anyone manage to deal with such emotions in a small form like this anyway?

And that‘s how it started. You both settled on leaving him alone during that and lending him your bedroom for it. You‘ll just need to wait until he is finished and pretend as if nothing happened. Besides, you can‘t really ignore it. Both of you. He usually makes some small jokes about it, which just turn into a small banter between the two of you and complaining about John ignoring this problem so he doesn‘t have to fix him. This goes on for a few days until he verbalises his needs to you. It turns out that simply jerking off doesn‘t do much for him anymore and he seems to need more. He isn‘t satisfied.

That only leaves to one conclusion, obviously. You are taking this problem into your own hands. Again.

It‘s not like you aren‘t good friends, so you can help him out with that too. And this is how it really started. Every evening, after patrol, you slipped into your bed and helped him out with his aching needs. Even when he fit into your palm, it still felt more intimate than any other things you‘ve ever done together.

Laying side by side, having him naked with his hands behind his neck, you carefully held his hard cock between your fingers and did your best on finding an even pace for now. The room filled with tiny whimpers and low groans from his side, managing to find a torturous pace for him. His chest heaving and cheeks flushed, he didn‘t stop you. He wanted more, wanted to see how much he could take in his overly needy state.

Hips jerking up, he finished, and smaller spurts of cum coated your fingers. It was fascinating to see such a tiny creature be pleasured to such an extend. His moans became louder, even muffled against his hand. Once he was calmed down after his first orgasm, you retreated your hand, but he quickly grabbed your finger and silently begged you to keep going. After checking in if that‘s what he really wants, you play with his cock again until he cums all over once more. Needless to say, you didn‘t stop until he literally passed out happily in your free palm, nuzzled against your thumb.

It became more of a routine for you both to lay down and please the other. Dick really wanted to please you just as much, but it wasn‘t possible with how small his hands were now. He would genuinely crawl inside you at this point and please you in that way, but he knows it‘s a weird request and just won‘t voice it, in fear you would be scared off.

Frustrated, he let you tease and overstimulate him as much as you both wanted. It was pure bliss for him. The way you delicately stroke his length in a languid pace before you switch up and set a brutal pace for him. The way his back arches up, the way his hips stutter and squirm under you— it‘s a sight to see.

Hissing noises escape from him every time you keep going even, after his high, making him sensitive and flushed. Once you stop your movements, he sighs in relief but starts bucking his hips into your fingers lazily again. He just can‘t stop. He knows he probably comes off as a needy loser like this, but he couldn‘t care less when there‘s someone willing to give him what he wants.

Every time, his brain goes to absolute mush after one of your sessions, he starts babbling on about how perfect you are, how much he wants to please and taste you. But you know it‘s not possible until someone can fix this poor guy.

He promised to get revenge on you for overstimulating him so much once he can get back to his actual size. And with him being rather tiny with those elf ears and wings on his back, it‘s generally hard to take him seriously.

Once John finally had the time to fix the siye problem, he just tossed a smaller glass bottle your way and told him to drink some drops of it. Without any further trouble, he leaves you be, and you give Dick that magical potion that should help him.

Indeed, Dick grows back into his normal size, a head taller than you again. That famous smirk plastered all over his face. Finally, he can get his so-called ‚revenge‘.

With strong hands, the now taller man picks you up and makes you wrap your legs around his waist. His lips come crashing against yours, needy for proper pleasure. He slumps back into the couch and keeps his hands splayed across your hips, savouring the taste of you.

Light groans slip from him while you lose your mind over the unexpected action, but you can‘t bring yourself to stop. You‘ve fantasised about this exact moment to happen for so long while he was stuck in his tiny body; now it‘s finally coming true.

Your lips move down from his lips to his neck, licking and tasting more at him for your own pleasure. Small gasps and moans leave his mouth while he drags your hips back and forth on his clothed cock. Your nails dig into his shoulders while the room fills with heated tension, arousal spiking from the both of you.

You let him move how he needs to, giving into his touch as you grind heavier on him. Louder groans leave him, his head tilting back. The sight of him, slightly flushed, hair messy, eyes glazed over, and panting for air, is something you commit to memory.

The friction is not enough after a while, and he rips your shorts off, hastily slipping his cock out to slip into you. With careful movements, Dick finally nestled inside of you and groans loudly once he bottoms out. Having you on his lap, all pretty and warm, is the one thing he has been craving for these past few weeks.

Once you are settled to the full feeling, you start to grind on him at first. Your clit rubs against his pelvis, making your body jerk lightly. Stilling for a moment to catch your breath, he helps you to ride him properly. As you hold onto his shoulders, you start to go up and down his length in a slow pace, just like you did when he was stuck as a fairy.

He groans painfully and nuzzles forward into your neck, bucking his hips up into you in need. You take the sign and pick up your pace, your breath picking up into short gasps.

It gets too much for you, clenching down harder and harder until you release on top of him, cunt spasming violently around him. More groans and whimpers fill the room as Dick also nears his high, unable to hold on much longer and finishes inside, loading his hot cum deep inside. After a few final thrusts, you both slump into each other and catch a moment to yourself.

His big arms wrap tightly around your tired form, whispering sweet nothings to you.

He couldn‘t even get to his revenge, too tired after the real thing and also too shy to ask if you‘d be down for him to keep going. You both end up cuddled up together in your bed, snuggled up and without a care in the world.

←MASTERLIST

[nenoname]

stan twins the canon cptsd brothers i will always think about all your unaddressed issues that would make perfect plot fuel for your spinoff

and also the whole 'stan getting that poem by bill via a website which contrasts with bill getting one from the axolotl via a website' foreshadowing thing

like idk i would love something like su future but like more optimistic, aka not an accumulated breakdown that has to be mostly resolved off screen at the end :/// but something thats being kinda addressed throughout? (although would love to see one of them turn into a monster thats always fun lol)

stan having severe issues from his dad and those years of being homeless that we keep on getting more info on but never really getting confronted on (the drifter catalogue and tijuana incident...), him being completely alone for like twenty years when running the shack before soos comes along to the point that 1998 is noted as his low point, and him not really learning about bill+what he did to ford until ages after he killed him if he ever did get the full context

while i think amnesia and everyone seeing him as a hero actually helped with stan's 'i'm a worse version of my brother' thing its still a lingering issue too and we now got him being insecure over his own hands

ford being immediately thrown from 'being tortured by bill' to 'being stuck in the multiverse and being chased by bounty hunters constantly', him fully expecting himself to die when destroying bill, and him only now being safe for the first time in 30 years ....relatively safe, he's still in constant danger because of course he is

idk in the end the series wants them to be happy and they deserve it, its why i wasn't too worried about the book being like 'ooh bill is back!! and the book is haunting ford' thing cos i knew they'll be ok

[erenthology]

He loves the kind of woman that would actually just k!ll him (quick drabble)

When you scolded his teammates for not picking up after themselves after dinner, he realized something about himself. “We’re sorry” they said in unison. Eren just stared you up and down with craving eyes.

“Dude, your girl is kind of scary.” They muttered as you walked off to the bathroom. He knows…intently following your retreating figure with his eyes.

When he first approached you at a frat party, offering to help carry your drinks, maybe with the intent to take you back to his place later that night..you left him speechless with your glowering glare, muttering explosives at him.

He was stunned as he watched you walk away.

“Poor girl would rather walk spill her drinks than speak with you.” Jean snickered. But Eren just grinned.

It took him a while to get you to warm up to him, but the chase was worth it. Turns out, you’re just a soft cinnamon bun once you let your walls down. For someone who claims she hates cuddles, you sure want cuddles. He loves you, and especially that mouth of yours.

He doesn’t mind when you calmly give him the look if he’s acting up, your sharp tongue, or your quick comebacks. In fact, he loves when you speak up for him if his order is wrong before he gets the chance to, or rather aggressively cheer for him at his games, that in particular makes him blush ever so lovingly. He almost gets shy. Meanwhile you’re swooning over your beast boyfriend smashing 220 pound guys down on the field. Unaware he’s doing the most to impress his girl.

He remembers being taken aback once. You had slapped a stranger who catcalled you. Eren was away buying you ice scream, strictly ordering you to stay within his line of vision since the carnival was “dangerous”. So when he noticed the situation, rushing with the intent of smashing the guys face in, he nearly dropped the ice cream as he witnessed your hand connecting with roaches face. Proudly observing you with gleam in his eyes.

Eren admits it, he’s attracted to intiminating women. He doesn’t know when it started, might’ve been with you. Now that he thinks about it, every girl he used to chase after before you was reserved and timid. Either way, all he knows is every time you let out that side of you, his pants feel tighter.

You come back from the bathroom, noticing the guys picked up after themselves. Finally, you thought.

“Hey Eren, can we get dessert?”

He stands up and grabs you by the loops of your belt, pulling your hips flush against his.

“Can’t you sit on my face first?” face to face spooning you, about to add a “please,” but you smirked and got down on your knees instead. He quickly looked around, “we’re in the living room, the guys might walk come back in.” he stresses.

“Let them.” and Eren swears that one day you’ll give him a heart attack. His girl is a freak, the thought makes him grin.

“Only if you sit on it later.” he was not below begging for it. He actually wouldn’t mind going out by you sitting on his face, it would make him die a happy man.

[whore4abby]

christmas headcannons; abby anderson

+ some bonus insta posts

warnings; tiny mentions of smut - strap-on mention, mdni

౨ৎ takes you to the local christmas markets every year - holding hands as you pass by the christmas stalls which are all aglow with twinkling fairy lights, breath visible in the cold air but you’re both cosy and bundled up in thick jackets to keep warm in the icy weather.

౨ৎ would notice you staring at a snow globe or something and immediately have her hand in her pocket to fetch her wallet and buy it for you without even thinking twice about it.

౨ৎ buys you the BEST gifts. spends months slyly asking you questions trying to get an insight into what you’ll be wanting as gifts.

౨ৎ not the best gift wrapper her big hands make it hard :( but she tries her absolute best. ends up using absurd amounts of tape to keep the paper in place, ultimately making it look like it was wrapped up by a small child.

౨ৎ insists that she hates the matching thermal pjs you buy for the both of you, sulking in protest when you suggest the idea but after much persuasion, she finally caves, willing to do anything to make you happy.

౨ৎ loves to decorate the christmas tree with you but she takes it soooo seriously, she never half-asses it and is always groaning at you that you’ve hung everything in the wrong place. always lets you put the star on the top of the tree though, hoisting you up into the air effortlessly, smiling as she watches you gently place the glittering star onto the tree.

౨ৎ so good at snowball fights but she sometimes forgets her own strength. pummelling the icy snow at you a little too hard which results in knocking you off your feet and back into a pile of freshly fallen snow. she attempts to stifle her laugh as she scoops you up, pressing warm kisses against your frozen cheeks apoligetically.

౨ৎ abby loves to wake up before you on christmas morning in the the early hours to enjoy a cup of coffee, watching as the snow falls outside of your bedroom window, caressing your back softly as you sleep. finishing her drink just as you start to wake up which leads to groping each other through your thermal pjs, sleepily grinding against eachother.

౨ৎ abby adores ending the night by watching endless christmas movies, wrapped up in blankets and surrounded by your favourite snacks and drinking hot chocolate whilst using you as her personal heater. the two of you sharing sticky marshmallow coated kisses as you giggle and press yourself closer to her.

౨ৎ the night ends with the hot chocolate and christmas movies long forgotten as abby has you ride her strap, her big hands gripping at your hips and bouncing you up and down on top of her.

[harbingersglory]

Hello, could I have transfem Signora x fem!reader smut? Any scenario is fine, just need dom Signora railing me 😩

{☆} characters la signora {☆} notes drabble, fem reader, sub reader, dom la signora, transfem la signora {☆} warnings 18+ content, restraints, temperature play, face fucking, degradation, pet play

There's a moment of silence that lingers for far too long, the cold nipping at your exposed skin until you feel shivers wrack your body. You squirm instinctively, seeking out the fading warmth of the thick furs laid out beneath you, yet finding nothing but the cold that chills you to your bones. You can't even see, your eyes covered by black fabric, silk tying your arms together behind your back.

It's almost torturous waiting like this. Your knees sink further into the fur as you lean your weight forward slightly, exhaling a shaky breath. You begin to wonder if Signora left you there– maybe you'd annoyed her earlier and she was punishing you. You hoped not. She wasn't known for being lenient when it came to punishments.

But the brush of her fingers along your jawline squashed that fear, your breath hitching as her thumb glided over your throat, the heat of her skin making you shudder. The contrast of the cold room, of your freezing body, to the unnatural heat that simmers beneath her skin is immense– your knees would have definitely buckled if you hadn't been kneeling already.

"Did you think I'd left you here all alone? You're shaking like a dog." The soft, biting lilt was nothing more than a murmur, but for you it was impossible not to hear the pleased tone beneath the roughness of her voice. Your heart leaps into your throat when her fingers trace back up along your jawline, lifting your head and tilting it back just enough to be uncomfortable.

You open your mouth to speak, but your words are silenced by her thumb slipping past your lips instead– you don't fight back, even though the sudden intrusion catches you off guard enough you almost bite her finger instead. You almost consider doing it anyway, but she's so rarely in a good mood it feels rude to spoil it.

"Pets don't speak until they're told," She chides, pressing down on your tongue slightly and laughing at the way you almost choke in surprise. "And I don't remember giving you permission."

You can only manage a garbled whine in response, your face burning in embarrassment– but it's quickly silenced by the click of her tongue and the creak of the old chair you know sits by the fireplace, her thumb sliding out between your lips to drag you closer. Close enough to feel the rush of heat across your skin as your cheek is pressed against her thigh, her hands resting on the back of your head. You can't see it, but you sure can imagine the smug smile that must be tugging at her lips right about now.

"Let's see about fixing your little disobedient streak, darling." She murmurs, digging her nails into your scalp and tugging you even closer, the furs beneath you doing little to prevent the ache in your knees from kneeling. But you don't complain– you know what she wants, and you want it too. "Open."

Like the dog she seems so fond of treating you as, you listen– you're not as surprised this time when her fingers fill your mouth, forcing it open even further until you can feel the saliva collecting and dribbling down your chin. She doesn't seem to mind, even laughing at how pitiful you probably look, drooling all over her fingers.

But Signora is a hard woman to satisfy, and this will hardly do anything other then work her up enough to really break you in. You can just barely hear the rustle of fabric over your heartbeat, gloved hands tugging you closer and forcing you to press right up against the edge of the chair. It's almost uncomfortable, the way the chair presses against your chest, but she always has you teetering on that fine edge.

"Perhaps you can be trained after all." Signora's voice is like a balm, the heat of her body driving away the cold and urging you impossibly closer, until you feel her hand guide you down just as her fingers slip out of your mouth again– right up until you feel her cock against your cheek. "Show me that you can be obedient, mutt, and maybe I'll let you sit on my lap."

You know she's just dangling a treat just out of reach, but you can't help but reach for it anyway.

Your tongue drags across the underside of her cock, so slow you can hear the hiss that rattles in her chest halfway between pleasure and impatience. You take your time anyway, lingering until you reach the tip and press a kiss against it. You almost wish you could see her face, but she's never been fond of expressing anything outwardly when you can see it– just the idea of her brows furrowed, of her face flush and her lip caught between her teeth..it's enough.

It's not hard to imagine it anyway when the heat grows hotter, nearly turning the room into an oven before she catches herself. You aren't stupid enough to mention it, but your smile must be enough, because a low growl makes you shiver– so you drag your tongue from the base to the tip again, revel in the way it throbs beneath your tongue. For a moment you almost have something like control, your saliva dripping down her aching cock as you lap at it like a mutt.

But you're both growing impatient– the sharp click of her nails against the chairs arms makes you shudder, urging you to lift yourself up just enough to wrap your lips around the head with a muffled groan. You consider dragging it out just a moment longer, just to see if you can get her to whine, but she knows you better then you do– before you can even blink, her hand shoves you down. You, predictably, gag. Your throat burns from the stretch, but it's not unpleasant, eased by the pleasured hiss that tumbles from her lips. Signora at least has the mercy to let you get used to it for a moment before she drags you back up, the emptiness in your throat making you whine before she's shoving her cock back down your throat. Your eyes sting with unshed tears, your own sounds of pleasure muffled and garbled as she does it again– and again.

"Finally quiet, mutt?" She laughs, but it's strained– her voice quivers slightly as she fucks your throat like your nothing but a toy to her, drool dribbling down your chin and tears staining the blindfold. "If I knew it was this easy to shut you up, I'd have done it a long time ago."

You so badly want to do something, but with your hands tied behind your back and her fucking your face so rough, so fast, you can barely even think..there's not much you can do but let her, your cunt clenching around nothing. You really hope she wasn't lying about that reward, for once. You're practically dripping on her floor while she uses you, just barely able to squeeze your thighs together for a fraction of friction.

It only serves to make you more desperate, though.

"Fuck– or maybe you're too stupid to know better. You'd just let any pretty woman with a cock use you," Her breathing was getting heavier, more strained, but her grip on your hair didn't relent. Neither did the harsh thrust of her hips, her cock constantly hammering into your throat until you felt dizzy. "You're lucky I'm even willing to train a mutt like you."

Your mind starts to feel fuzzy, the words blending together until she digs her nails into your scalp and forces you down again– and keeps you there. You nearly gag again when you feel her shudder, her cock throbbing in your mouth as her cum spills down your throat, your hands straining against the silk binding them together. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, nostrils flaring and your body tensing– you don't even realize you'd briefly lost consciousness until your find yourself on her lap, rather then on your knees, her hands brushing the strands of hair stuck to your face with sweat out of your eyes.

It's the most gentle she's been all night– and likely as gently as she will be tonight. You lean into her touch anyway, groaning softly and shuddering at the taste of her on your tongue mixed with her cock throbbing against your thigh.

"I'm not done yet, darling. Did you think I'd let you get away with a little light training?" She laughs, cupping your jaw and pressing a kiss that's far too gentle to your cheek, the warmth of her body almost suffocating– but you welcome it, like you always do.

So you nod, smiling drowsily and spreading your legs like a good pet should.

[taintedcigs]

i know some ppl hate it but i love 'stevie' SOO much. and i know he'd just blush the cutest pink when you called him stevie... squirming in his place by how much your little nickname turns him on... because he loves to hear you whine 'stevieeee!!!' whenever he teases you, just by a slap on your ass, or when his hand lands on your thigh whenever he's driving, a harsh grip on your inner thigh slowly travelling up, or when he 'accidentally' presses your ass against his bulge when hugging you from behind, OR OR when his hand wanders to your panties while the two of you are out to dinner with friends.

he loves the way that nickname leaves your glossy lips whenever you're trashing beneath him, begging him to fuck you faster, deeper. wanting nothing more than to be filled to the brim. he loves the way you utter it in such a lewd way while giving him those doe-eyes, begging for him to fuck your throat, he loves the filthy smile you give him as you say it. but he especially loves sliding his cock down your throat, hearing your muffled 'stevie' while you beg for him to cum down your throat. and he loves it even more, once the two of you are fucked out, laying next to each other, and you whisper, 'i love you, stevie' he gives you a sloppy kiss on your forehead, arms securely wrapping around your waist, bodies tied to each other.

'love you more, angel,' he murmurs into your hair, he's your stevie, and you're his angel.

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 34

Jaskier is a succubus/incubus (Cause some sources say it's based on the entity's gender, and some say the name is based on the gender of the people they have sex with, so if he's a succubus or if he's an incubus is up to you, darling <3) Jaskier hasn't told Geralt of this, of course. He'd rather not add another thing to Geralt's seemingly endless list of things he hates about Jaskier. Jaskier jumps from bed to bed in towns, because he physically feeds on the passion of his little midnight trysts he has with lonely unsatisfied women in town. He'd go for men too, but doesn't need more mobs chasing him out of town and annoying Geralt. Geralt finally snaps at him one night, fed up with getting chased out of three fucking towns in a row. And the worst part isn't even the fact they keep getting thrown out. It's when Jaskier comes to him, ruffled, kiss-bruised, and reeking of sex he had with someone else. Jaskier, scared of Geralt leaving him behind, promises that he'll volunteer to have a dry-spell. No more cuckolding husbands for Jaskier, no sirree! However, being a succubus/incubus means that the longer he goes without some passion, the more weak he gets, and he starts to fall ill. Geralt grows increasingly worried. One night at camp, Geralt kisses Jaskier's forehead when Jaskier is asleep and he watches as color visibly returns to Jaskier's face, and Geralt's medallion hums. Geralt is now suspicious Jaskier has been cursed. Jaskier returns to looking peaky by the next morning. That is, until Geralt drags him into a hug on a hunch, and sure enough, Jaskier looks better. The more romantic the gesture, the more it seems to help Jaskier. Jaskier finally confesses what he is, bawling and sure that Geralt will banish him at the least and kill him at the most. Geralt is horrified, and hugs his friend close, promising he'd never do either. (BECAUSE THE MOUNTAIN BREAKUP SHOULD'VE NEVER LEFT THE WRITING ROOM) Geralt offers to have sex, wanting Jaskier to be healthy again, but Jaskier doesn't want the only time he gets to sleep with the love of his life to be when Geralt doesn't even love him back. He says as such, and Geralt stumbles his way through confessing that Jaskier's feelings are requited, and Geralt loves him too.