#edging you with edging drabbles

[adrinktostopyourthirst]

The cock ring drabble made me ooof

The dirty talk

The switch

The moans

The writing

Honeyyyyyy wow

Just imagine this tho: him edging the reader as long as him

If he doesn't get to come, she doesn't either

A withering mess, competition to see who caves first. I can only imagine the filth that comes out of his mouth

I fucking adore this ask, thank you! Please never stop letting me know whatever my writing does to you. And as for edging you, I think Bucky underestimated himself...

You wonder if this is it.

If this is the sub space you’ve heard about. Your mind and body so tuned in to Bucky that his voice is the only thing penetrating the haze clouding your mind. And all you can do is mindlessly follow his orders, even the ones that aren’t of any favour to you. When he tells you to slow, you slow. When he tells you to open your mouth, you do so without question. Everything to please your man.

Even if it means you don’t get to come.

In all fairness, Bucky hasn’t come either. And from the frantic, lust-riddled look in his eyes, you almost wonder how he hasn’t.

So does he.

He’s endured plenty amounts of pain, but this is a different kind of torture. The kind of torture Bucky has found comes with sex. The kind of pain he gets addicted to. He’s been on the edge of coming for about an hour and actively testing his limits. He fucks into you slowly, precisely, deeply, skating and dragging over your slick walls like there is no better place for his cock to be.

But then he looks down, just to tease himself and because he can’t keep from doing it, and your cunt looks so swollen and wet and inviting, he follows his instincts and pulls out. Crawls down and licks into you with a hunger that makes a groan rumble through him. His hands slide around your fleshy thighs as he hauls you closer to his mouth, humming as he pushes his tongue into your hole and teases his nose against your clit.

Oh, and if that wasn’t enough, the way you’re breathless above him, babbling nonsense and formulating not much more than just sounds, it might be enough to drive Bucky to the edge. He wants your fingers through his hair and wants you to call his name, but he knows you’re too far gone.

And as lovely as all of it is, how he understands perfectly that you’re enjoying the state he has you in, he has to check in with you. “Talk to me baby,” he murmurs, littering kisses over your soft thighs as his hands stroke up and down the length of your body and he inhales your arousal deeply. “Let me hear you. You with me?”

You suck in a deep breath, only tuned in to his voice. “Hm… yea… Yeah, right here.”

He smiles at that and squeezes your side softly. “You want to go together?”

You nod enthusiastically and Bucky laughs softly, raising slightly to stroke your cheek. His other hand reaches down and plays mindlessly with your clit, sadistically revelling at the little twitches in your limbs at the touch to your oversensitive pussy.

“You’re pretty like this,” he hums and presses his soft lips to your collarbone. “But I miss you. Want you back to me. Telling me off for torturing the shit out of you,” he murmurs regretfully and far in the back of your mind, you come back to life at this unusual side of Bucky.

“Hmm, Bucky,” you whimper and he looks up hopefully.

“Ah, there she is,” he growls and lowers his mouth down to your own mouth, licking into you longingly and with a deep moan that has you raising your hands to cup his face. And when your fingers slide back, into his hair, he melts against you with a deep groan. “There she fuckin’ is.”

“Need–” you starts breathlessly against his lips, “Need to–”

“Yeah,” he grunts and slides the length of his cock through your folds, his breath stuttering. “Yeah, I know. Gonna make you come soon. Just a little longer. Want you with me while I fuck you.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

Bucky hums deeply, “Okay.”

Just a little longer…

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

toji teasing you with his dick/strap sucking skills.

he sits you down at the end of the bed while taking his place in front of you, his leg between your thighs. his navel is right at your eye-level and your mouth salivates. even though he's fully dressed, you can see his pants straining – he's so fucking hard and you just want to feel him. you want to push his shirt up, you want to drag your tongue over his happy trail, you want to listen to him hold back his little gasps and groans. teeth sinking into your bottom lip, you eagerly reach for his belt buckle but a hand on your jaw stops you.

"ya want it?"

gently, he guides your head up, forcing you to look at him in the eye. staring down at you, he does try to hold back a groan – you already look so fucked out and he hasn't even done anything. you nod at him, eyes blown wide and lips swollen from you biting down on them so hard.

toji's thumb draws a lazy circle over your cheek. "well, aren't ya sweet, hm?"

when he feels your hands trailing over his clothed muscles, your fingers digging into the material of his pants, he presses his thigh flush against your center, humming lowly as he watches your eyes fall shut at the contact.

"not today, though."

a small whine slips from your lips when you rest back on your hands, head dangling from your shoulders; perfectly displaying your neck and the few remaining marks from the nights from before. toji's eyes travel down from your throat and over your covered chest – of course, you're wearing one of his shirts. your collarbones peek from under the collar and a light sheen of sweat is already beginning to form all over your skin. toji licks his lips at the thought of running his tongue over the slopes of your body.

he puts some more pressure against the bulge in your own pants and watches your chest rise and fall with deep sharp breaths. "toji..."

he wants to ruin you so badly. he will never get sick of you saying his name like that, like a prayer, like a mantra – he's ready to give you all of him in return.

"look at ya..." he rumbles, his thigh slowly rocking back and forth against you. "s'desperate."

you can't stay still - your hips rolling against him, humping his leg like you're in heat but it's still not enough. "please..."

his low chuckle makes you loll your head forward. he looks sexy; standing tall between your legs, hair messy after a long day and a proud, hungry smile playing on his scarred lips.

"what do ya want, hm?"

"anything." he laughs at your needy answer, his chest rumbling like thunder as he nudges your thighs wider, fitting himself in the middle of them. he kneels down, so he's face level and you immediately push throw yourself over him. your hands snake around his neck, lips brushing over his. "everything...."

one of his own hands grabs at your waist, pulling you indefinitely closer while the other kneads your thigh. every time you try to kiss him, he pulls away just an inch; your breaths mingle together, lips grazing as his cologne fills your nostrils and his touch sets you ablaze. the need for him is growing and it's growing fast, the knot in your stomach tightening with every passing second.

"greedy little thing..." he whispers with a teasing tone and you nose at his cheek. your fingers play with the longer hair on the nape of his neck, combing through the locks, pushing his head closer to yours.

"please, toji..."

you feel him smirk against your cheek before he sits back on his legs.

"ya sound so cute like this." toji rests his elbows on your thighs, fingers tracing over the material of his shirt, over your abdomen and hips, until he reaches your waistband. "please, please, please..."

heat crawls on your body at his mocking, head dizzy from his touch. you don't have it in you to bark back at him, completely at his mercy – ready to take whatever he offers you.

he unbuttons your pants and taps on your thigh, telling you to stand up. and when you do, toji's nose brushes over your clothed belly button, making you buck into his face on instinct. your hands rest in his hair as he helps you out of the pants and underwear before letting you sit back down onto the bed.

you need him to touch you so badly that it's starting to hurt. your eyebrows furrow and you want to squeeze your thighs together to relieve the pain but the man in the middle stops you from doing that. he's just staring at you; taking you in – all of your little twitches, your hazy eyes, your heaving chest. oh, he's loving this.

"you're being so mean..."

he laughs. and you want to choke him. but before you can do that, or anything else for that matter – he leans forward, pressing a very faint kiss to your hip – so close and yet, so far from where you really need him. you mewl out and he pinches your waist. he's so close that his own abdomen is rubbing against your core and it's getting harder and harder to focus. you tug on his hair when he bites down into your soft flesh and pulls back with a mean grin. "yer so impatient..."

he grabs at the hem of your shirt and you raise your arms, letting him pull it off of your body. the scar on his lips finds the sensitive skin right below your jaw as he starts covering you in wet, open-mouthed kisses. he trails down from there, briefly licking and sucking your nipples, making your back arch up into him. he bites down to leave proud teethmarks on your skin as his big hands rest on your waist, kneading the soft flesh while you melt into him.

as he's getting closer and closer to where you actually need him, his hand slips from its place on your hip and you gasp when he starts rubbing at your inner thigh instead. with half-lidded eyes, you watch him lower himself back onto his legs and you buck into his hand again – your body has a mind of its own, you cannot think clearly anymore.

"this s'where you want me, yeah?"

his fingers trace around your crotch and you think you're going to explode from all of his teasing. hastily nodding, you beg with your eyes for him to finally touch you, to really touch you. he looks straight at you, flashing you a toothy smirk before cupping your balls, making your jaw fall slack. "soooo sensitive."

the eye-contact is making everything a thousand times better (worse) – his eyes bore into yours and it feels like he's planning on eating you alive.

"c'mon, gimme a kiss, sweetheart."

he doesn't need to say it twice because you're already lunging forward, pressing your mouth to his. he groans when you nip at his bottom lip – you want more, you need more. and he lets you have it.

your tongues dance together, swapping saliva like it's something you're supposed to do, all while his hand never stops massaging your sensitive skin. he's so warm and it feels so good and you want to forge the two of you together forever. you let your own hand slip between your bodies, desperately trying to guide him to your aching cock but he just grins into the kiss.

when you huff in disappointment and decide to wrap your own hand around yourself, he grabs your wrist and holds it down beside you. he presses another kiss to your lips and when he pulls away, a clear string of saliva keeps you connected.

he brings his free hand to your mouth and nods toward it. "spit."

toji lets out a hum as he watches it drip from your already wet lips and he twitches in his pants. without ever taking your eyes from you, he finally wraps his big fingers around your cock and devours the moan you reward him with.

your gaze flicks down to his hand, watching it slide up and down, the slick sound filling the room along with your quiet little whimpers and groans. every time he reaches the tip, he twists his wrist and tightens his fist, making you screw your eyes shut from the sensation. "ahh– fuck..."

"tell me how it feels."

"good, so fucking good. please– please, don't fucking stop." you stammer out. the words all slur together, the pleasure taking over your whole body. sweat dribbles from your temple and your fingers dig into the bedsheets under you.

you crack your eyes open just at the right time – when his pretty lips part and envelop the tip of your rock hard cock. he hums around you and you dig your fingers into his hair, tugging at the roots as a thank you. it's overwhelming – to let him take care of you like this. it feels special in a way, he doesn't do this with everyone.

he wants to make you feel good, he wants to show you his love.

he doesn't take his hand from you, keeping a firm grip on your base as he sucks on the tip. spit dribbles from the corners of his lips and he doesn't even try to hold it back – the messier the better. he pulls of with a little pop but dives right back in to drag his tongue all the way up from your balls. he does it a few times before getting sick of you trying to push his head closer to yourself (wonder who'd you learn that from).

taking your hands, he holds them against the bed. "no touching."

"bu- "

"touch me again and i'll stop."

his heart does a little flip in his chest at your little dumbfounded look – eyes wide and brows furrowed, hips twitching at the loss of contact.

"kiss me."

it's comes out like a demand and your own breath hitches, scared that he'll pull away completely now, but... he doesn't.

"ya want another kiss, hm? ya wanna taste yourself, is that it?"

the knot in your stomach tightens at his words and dumbly blink down at him, nodding your head. "yes, please..."

while still holding your hands to the bed, he lets you inch closer and press your swollen lips to his. a moan bubbles up from your throat and he swallows it with pride. toji pumps your cock with a steady pace, squeezing his fist every time he reaches the base. you taste so fucking good. and he tries to ignore the mess he's making in his pants purely from the act of getting you off. pre-cum stains the material of his boxers and he keeps twitching at every little sound you make.

this must be love, hm?

[rissouu]

just thinking about guitarist!armin who asks if you wanted to go on a late night drive and of course you couldn’t decline, (you just loved feeling like a passenger princess in his tinted out srt). his hand gripped on the thick skin of your thigh as he nodded his head to the guitar notes— deftones played lowly in the background and both of you guys basked in the music. deftones had a way of soothing you and made you feel like you were on cloud 9, same for armin. “wanna go get some food mama?” his beautiful blue eyes met yours when he reached a red light, and you couldn’t lie. the eye contact plus his hand toying with the skin of your thigh had you feeling things.. “mm yes baby, but after could we head back home?” a look of confusion spread across his face since he thought you loved night drives, why were you in such a rush to go home all of sudden? “we could but why- oh?” it took him a while but he finally pieced everything together once he studied your facial expressions. he knew that look— knew it almost better than anything else honestly, the blonde chuckled lowly as he felt his dick practically jumping. “anything for you my princess..”

[moneyndior]

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ on n’ on, my girlfriend callin’ my phone. ⋄ 𓍯

…IN WHICH; i have mean!luke x fem!reader thoughts.

tags/warnings; drake mention(scary), luke holding reader like that one scene in catch me if you can, luke has rings, toxic!luke, shotgunning/alcohol usage, weed/drug usage/luke insists he blows smoke into ur mouth, softie!luke at the end, suggestive content ahead‼️

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ i know i was just preaching about loser!luke but PLEASEEEEE LET ME FUCKING COOK HERE also LOOK AWAY IF YOU KNOW ME PLEASEEE😭😭

—

—mean!Luke who blows smoke into your mouth!!!

“c’mon, baby. it won’t be too much f’you.”

luke went on, the burning joint between his fingers. the smell was too much, even with the cars windows rolled down. sitting in an empty parking lot, trust issues by drake blasting at 2AM wasn’t the ideal situation for you.

you shook your head, turning your head away from him. a hum of disapproval left your throat, earning a raspy chuckle from him.

“i told you, ‘m alright.”

“please? it won’t hurt ya.”

you huffed, adjusting your position, leaning farther away from him. until you felt his hands firmly grip your chin, forcibly turning your head toward him.

“i’ll do all the work—all you’d need to do is breath in, princess.”

luke’s pupils were dilated and the white in his eyes now a light red. he had a loopy grin on his face, his eyes seemingly scanning every inch of you. he moved his knee further up, going between your legs.

you, being a flustered mess, slowly opened your mouth slightly. luke laughed at you, quite rude in your opinion. he took a drag from the blunt, holding the smoke in his lung for a moment.

luke’s grip on your chin didn’t falter once.

“remember, breath in.”

he mumbled, pulling your face closer. luke exhaled as you inhaled, the smoke causing your eyes to water. you mimicked his routine when he had finished inhaling, holding it in for a moment before coughing.

luke snickered as he rubbed your back.

“aw, ‘m sorry. you poor, poor thing. hm? it’s alright. stop bein’ a baby.”

—mean!luke who taught you how to shotgun.

“jus’ like that.”

he muttered, watching over your shoulder with his arms crossed. luke had handed you a can of beer and his ring and told you to shotgun with a grin.

“stab it. right..”

he dragged out before pointing to the bottom of the can, grabbing your wrist to tilt it a certain way.

“there.”

with your lips tightened and a sigh, you pierced through the can with his silver ring. without a second thought, you started downing the beer, trying to ignore the liquid running down your arm.

luke laughed as you tossed the now empty can aside, brushing your hair back. he rubbed your shoulder as you coughed, a scowl on your face. you shook off the beer that still ran down your arm with a groan.

luke finally spoke up, still laughing slightly. his voice was raspy and dragged out, slurring his words.

“look at you. such a big girl now, huh?”

“oh, shut up.”

“make me.”

—mean!luke who makes you beg, despite your pride.

“what was that? i can’t hear you.”

“stop bein’ so mean, luke!”

“i ain’t bein’ mean. you’re jus’ being a baby.”

luke said with a chuckle in his voice, leaning closer toward you. his lips were mere centimetres away from yours as a thumb rubbed your inner thigh, his knee keeping your legs apart.

your lips quivered as you felt his hand go further up your leg, more out of embarrassment than anything.

“luke, please.”

“please, what?”

his smirk was met with silence. he cupped your cheek, pulling you closer toward him as he kissed the corner of your mouth.

“go on. call me mean as much as you’d like, doesn’t change what you want. does it?”

“you’re so mean.”

“oh, i know.”

—mean!luke who secretly comforts and praises you behind closed doors.

“i know, i know. ‘m sorry.”

you sniffled as you crawled onto his lap. rain trickled on your cabins windows, thunder quietly striking in the distance. luke shushed you once more, dragging it out longer than the last.

“it’s alright, baby. you’re a strong girl.”

he mumbled into your shoulder as you curled up into a ball, hiding your face in his neck. luke gently held your hip, rubbing his thumb across your skin. luke pressed light kisses across your shoulder and neck, mumbling small shushes between them.

moments like these with luke were rarer than you’d like to admit; but they lasted long. they were drawn out. you’ve always suspected it was for more of your own pleasure than for luke’s.

“i’ll make sure of it.”

“you promise?”

“i promise.”

you held up a pinky, your head moved slightly just enough to see him take his hand off your hip to link your pinkies together. luke kissed the back of your hand before going back to holding your waist. the rain becoming the only sound to fill the room as your sniffles stopped.

[d0g-water]

Quackity edging a trans ftm reader 🙏🙏🧎🧎 I am literally like that (also can he call the reader good boy and things like that? 🧎)

alexis loves you so so much. you're the most perfect man for him. you are everything he wants in a person...

when he enters you, one of your legs is rested on his shoulder, supported by his strong arm.

"ffuck, you love it when i put it in." he breathes, as the pleasuring sensations rise in your bodies, "you tighten the deeper i go, such a good boy."

he's so hot, if only your annoying feminine moans didn't ruin every sex session.

you let out a long moan, it feels so good, better than ever.. you needed this. you needed this so bad, but-

alexis decides to pull out completely.

oh great, you know where this is going.

"alex..." you whine out, looking at him in desperation, but he gives you a snarky look.

"hm, what's wrong?" he asks, pushing back in, all the way inside...

you moan again. fortunately, he didn't pull out.

he holds your leg as he thrusts at his usual pace, pumping some noises out of you, making you drool.

"aah, alex... alex..." a sigh of satisfaction exits your mouth, feeling alex speed up, warming up your insides until you're getting closer.

the repetitive tingling down there is so overwhelming, your boyfriend leaking inside of you, and alex's low groans only makes it all more amazing.

"i'm so close, ahh-"

...

saying that was a mistake! alexis pulls out again, cursing under his breath. he seems to hate this as much as you, but why is he doing it?

alex's pretty dick steals your gaze, you notice it twitches in frustration, and you can only whine again.

"alex, put it back inside, please?" you plead, you were so close... he was too, but teasing you was more important.

he grins at you, speaking deeply, "yeah, you want me to put it back inside so bad?" he puts your leg down. what an asshole.

you deserve it. you're so good to him. it's not fair!!

you do so much for him... he even said you're the best boyfriend he's ever had. it's not fair...

"please, alex." you start to beg, not caring anymore, "i wanna cum... i know you do too..." your eyes glisten, almost tearing up as you look into his.

his eyes squint a little, as he bites a small bit of his lip.

fuck, his little whimper was so hot. he can't resist you at all.

he happily forces his hips back inside you, fucking you until the both of you finish.

maybe you like this a little bit..

[leifyposting]

Rosaria is not usually this transparent.

She isn’t Barbara, who wears her heart on her sleeve, or Jean, who does not count lying among her many talents. She isn’t even Kaeya, whose intricate masks and careful dissembling only hold up as long as the wind doesn’t blow too hard.

Rosaria is impassive, unreadable, barely even there. She’s spent enough years learning how to let people’s eyes slide right off her. It turns out that you can wear fishnets and claw rings and people will still let themselves ignore you if you give them the right excuse.

But she has been drinking, tonight — not quite to the edge of tipsy, but close, right on the line where the lights are warmer and the wine is sweeter and the chatter of the bar patrons tips from grating to almost melodic.

And so maybe she lets her eyes linger, just a little, on the broad back and flaming hair of tonight’s bartender. 

No one would blame her if they caught the way her gaze flits over to him and away, one stolen glance every couple of minutes. Diluc cuts a dashing figure in his bartender’s uniform: all straight lines and stark contrasts, his red hair bright against the white of his vest. He carries himself with a quiet composure born of physical power and a bank vault full of cash. Half the people in this tavern have been ogling him all evening; she’s still not sure if he’s truly oblivious or willfully blind. 

As she watches, he slides a drink over to the Traveler at the end of the bar, waving away the offer of payment. He wipes down the counter with a practiced hand before tossing the cloth over his shoulder once more. Then he turns back, and Rosaria doesn’t look away quite quick enough to stop their gazes from catching and holding. 

Diluc’s gaze burns like the embers of a campfire, low and controlled, but with the promise of destruction unleashed. For a long second, he watches her watching him. 

Then he smiles. 

It’s a different smile from the confident one he gives her in the middle of the night when they’re on a manhunt, or the rueful shouldn’t-have-let-my-guard-down grin he sports when he’s taken an injury he should have been able to dodge. 

This smile is small, meant just for her: the corner of his mouth quirks up, boyish and almost shy, and for a moment Rosaria catches a glimpse of the young man who’d brought Mondstadt to its knees. 

He’s so godsdamned pretty it makes her throat tight. Despite her better judgement, Rosaria finds herself smiling back. 

She suppresses her smile as soon as she registers it — but Kaeya has always been too perceptive for his own good. 

“Playing with fire there, Rosaria,” he murmurs once Diluc turns away. He leans an elbow on the bar counter and fixes her with an unreadable smile. 

“What do you mean?” she asks evenly, taking a swig of her wine.

Kaeya looks unimpressed by her attempt at deflection. “Falling in love with him is a bad idea.”

“I’m not in love with him,” Rosaria says. She realizes too late that this too is a confession. She ought to have asked who he meant; she’s shown her hand too early.

“Sure,” Kaeya says, serious for once. “But you’re getting there.”

“Am not.”

He shakes his head at her. “I wouldn’t get too close, if I were you. He burns everything he touches.”

Kaeya was her first real friend in Mondstadt. She knows what Diluc did — in broad strokes, if not in detail. It definitely makes her a bad friend that she likes him anyway. 

Kaeya’s lone visible eye tracks Diluc’s movement as he weaves his way through the bar, clearing tables. “The thing is, he doesn’t mean to,” he says, his voice low and almost affectionate. “He tries so hard, you know? He’d try, if you asked him to.”

“I’m not asking him shit. There’s nothing going on between us.”

“He just always ends up destroying things anyways,” he continues as if she hadn’t spoken, his fingers tracing lines of frost on the condensation of his glass, his eye still fixed on the back of Diluc’s head. “It tears him apart, but good intentions don’t restore what’s been broken.”

He looks back at her. For a moment she thinks she sees wildfire flames licking at the deep blue of his visible eye, before they resolve into the gentle glow of the lamps that light the Angel’s Share. “I know you’re not going to listen to me,” he says, and smiles mirthlessly. “You can make your own decisions, of course. But be careful, alright? I’d hate to see you hurt in the course of protecting Mondstadt.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Rosaria knows it as soon as it leaves his lips. 

Because no matter how bad Diluc is, Rosaria is worse. Kaeya has forgotten that frost burns too. 

Diluc is a fine, upstanding citizen, the uncrowned king of Mondstadt. Rosaria is a scrappy orphan at the mercy of the Church. Diluc has a bent for justice and a mission to take care of the weak. Rosaria only knows revenge.

Kaeya forgets — or ignores, because he is a good friend, and he cares for her in his own way — that Rosaria deserves nothing but destruction and pain. Everything she has received from Mondstadt has been at the cost of its citizens. She owes a debt she can never repay; if she takes some injury in the course of protecting this country, it will simply be what she deserves. 

She lays a hand on Kaeya’s arm and watches him jolt. “Getting burned is part of the job.”

“Of protecting Mondstadt?” He sounds skeptical. “The nation has never asked that of you.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Someone’s gotta do it. Don’t act like you haven’t sacrificed for Mondstadt too.”

“Oh, I won’t pretend I haven’t,” he says lightly. “But I’m a hedonist, you know — I’ll always pick pleasure over pain.”

She laughs, opting not to call him on this obvious lie. “I guess that makes me a masochist, because I don’t care if I get hurt.” 

“I care,” he mutters, then sighs. “Look, you’re a grown-up. If you want to flirt with the sun, I won’t stop you. I just reserve the right to say ‘I told you so’ when your wax wings go up in smoke.”

“I’ll be careful,” Rosaria promises. 

(Across the tavern, Diluc laughs at something Venti says, low and rolling and resonant. The eyes of half of Mondstadt follow the sound, and Rosaria has never been one to go with the crowd, but in this and this only—)

Kaeya rolls his eyes, shrugging her hand off his arm. “No, you won’t.”

“No,” she agrees, and grins. “I won’t.”

[damiansgoodgirll]

Can I pls have a 90's Edge x Fem reader where he kisses her back after patching her up and it leads to fluffy smut?

edge x reader

tw : smut smut smut

goodnight pretty girl

it’s been a rough match but you were glad you made it out as a champion.

you were in pain, anyone could tell that. fans cheering for you, at some point they thought you weren’t going to make it due to the amount pain you were feeling from your shoulders down to your back but you all proved them wrong and once you got backstage you couldn’t wait to take a shower and go back to the hotel so you could have a full night of sleep.

before you could reach your car your heard your boyfriend edge calling your name. you were surprised to see him there as he didn’t have any match to attend that night.

“you did great love!” he hugged you and you hugged him back.

“thanks…” you smile as you captured his lips with yours.

“i saw you were in pain back there…does your back hurt?” he asked a little concerned and you nodded “let me drive you back to the hotel so i can take care of you baby” he said before taking the driver seat and speeding to the hotel.

once you were in your hotel room, you let yourself fall on the bed, face between the pillows as edge bursted out laughing seeing your reaction.

“i’m so tired…” you said turning to face him.

“you should probably change yourself into something more comfortable…” he suggested and went to unpack some of his night’s clothes “wear these…you’ll feel better” he said and you thanked him.

you were way past over being shy in front of him so you changed right there, not wanting to move to the bathroom. you felt edge’s eyes on you, watching every move you made but his gaze got stuck on your back, where a few bruises were starting to form.

“hold on baby…” he stopped you before you could wear the long t-shirt he gave you “let me clean your back better, you have some purple bruises that i really don’t like” he said and despite all you wanted to do was sleep you knew you couldn’t say no to him. so you remained in your bra and panties, laying flat on your stomach and you let a few whimper out of your mouth when you felt edge’s hands applying some cream onto your back “this will help you with the pain, you’ll thank me later” he said and you nodded.

his hands massaged your back for a few minutes and when you thought he was over, he laid down to kiss your neck and shoulders, making sure to not hurt the spot where you were in pain.

“you smell amazing baby…” he whispered into your ear making you shiver.

his hands went to un clap your bra and he helped you turning around so you were facing him. his lips connected with your hard nipples and you couldn’t help but moan, try to not scream as you were staying in a very old hotel, knowing that the walls were pretty thin.

his hands moved to remove your panties and he began to undress himself too, remaining both naked.

his fingers went between your already wet folds and he began to play with your clit, knowing how much you loved when he teased you like that.

“please baby…” you moaned.

“someone’s a little impatient” he teased you. you didn’t even have time to reply back that his dick slammed into you in one swift move. he gave you some time to adjust before he began to move inside of you. slowly, taking his time with you, his hands reaching for yours as he trapped them over your head. his lips went to your neck and collarbone, moving to your nipples and gently biting them.

the slow pace he set was killing you, it was making you feel things you’ve never felt before, his cock hitting you in all your right spots.

“oh fuck…” you moaned when you felt his tip hitting right over your g-spot.

“like that?” he asked you and you nodded.

it was different from the old times, he would usually be rough or quick, sensual but not like that and you’ve never that good in your whole life.

it took him only a few thrust so spill himself inside of you and he completely lost it when you clenched hard on his dick, coming all over him.

“are you okay pretty girl?” he asked you when he caught his breath.

“yes…” you slowly opened your eyes and saw his still on top of you, admiring you with so much love that made your heart feel full. his lips went to captured yours in a very sensual and loving kiss.

he moved to the bathroom and took a washcloth just for cleaning you both up. he made sure you drank something, knowing that you probably were dehydrated. he dressed you in his clothes again and tucked you under the covers.

you were already half asleep and he realised that when he saw your eyes fall close.

“goodnight pretty girl” he whispered, kissing your cheek and let you laid your head on his chest.

[melting-houses-of-gold]

Want to spice things up but requesting some blyla (you know how normal I am about them), soooooo let’s do Aayla who is always volunteering for undercover missions that leave her in the skimpiest excuses for clothes known to man—much to bly’s suffering—and every time she teases him until one day he finally snaps 👀👀

SORRY THIS IS SO LATE. You sent this to me ages agooooo i'm so sorry. FORGIVE ME.

I couldn't keep myself to only five sentences because I'm insane over them. Also, this is my first time writing Blyla. This didn't end up super smutty, except in Bly's dreams!

The worst part about bodyguard detail is being in the room with her as she gets ready for the night's performance. Bly watches the wall as General Secura disrobes behind him; she’s virtually silent, save for the whisper of fabric as she whisks her costume off the chair and dresses herself once more. It takes everything in him to not turn around but he can imagine what she must look like—it’s all he’ll be thinking about for the next week.  “Be a dear and button me up?”  Bly faces her and regrets it almost immediately, his vision inundated with an expanse of blue skin, the scant fabric dipping down so low that he can see every curve. Forget thinking about this for the next week—this will be all he thinks about for the rest of his life; no more nightmares, just fantasies about the two of them—how he’d undress her, the attention he’d lavish upon every inch of her skin, the noises he might elicit when he finally fucks her.  He nods and his General sidles closer, the fabric of her outfit nearly slipping off her shoulder as she sways towards him. Bly’s gone toe to toe with dozens of commando droids, but he feels utterly undone by her sheer closeness, the intimacy of what he’s about to do. When he finally works up the nerve to reach for the top of her dress, to touch her, she twists away and looks up at him, a wicked gleam in her eyes.  “Gloves off, Bly. I want to feel you.”

Feel free to send me a NSFW headcanon and I'll write a drabble for it here!

[zuzufromtheafterlife]

Waiting For The Rain

The night was cold as Toothless and Hiccup slummed their way into a cave to use as shelter for the night. After a mission went south, resulting in them being separated from the rest of their team, they had nothing else to do but take cover for the night and attempt to wait out the storm.

Toothless was the first to drop to the ground after warming it with his plasma, Hiccup following not long after as he used one of Toothless' massive paws as a pillow. Nothing had to be said for one of his mighty wings to extend out over Hiccup, acting as a blanket as they huddled together to wait out the night.

Though Hiccup did nothing but steal the warmth that Toothless supplied, the two stayed curled up for the whole night. Hiccup may have been out cold, the steady rise and fall of his chest giving him away, but Toothless stayed in a light sleep, ears perking at the faintest sounds, ready to defend the defenceless Viking if need be.

As the rain slowed, making it clear enough for Toothless to fly the remainder home, he allowed his Viking to rest for a little longer.

Read here on ao3 @eclipsingbingo @fandom-free-bingo

[katkat030]

finally getting a chance to sit down and read the hotguy comic zine and oh my goddd.

striking me that Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down is very, very much a Hotguy-like song

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

hhhhhhhhhhhh rushing to proofread before the golden hour of posting leaves me ……. T_T the mice r being worked to the bone

[splatooshy]

I don't want to sound too pushy (sorry if I do), but will you keep updating "I think I've seen this film before (and I didn't like the ending)? also, I love your portrayal of Damon and how you write him! Have a nice day! :)

yes!! uni’s been heckers as of late (turns out screenwriting is a lot more time consuming than regular writing… who woulda thunk it?), but i’m still working on it, hopefully it will start cooperating with me and i can get it up soon! here’s a lil bit to keep you going until then:

“Damon says… he says that Father is… c-cruel to- to h-hit me. T-that it wasn’t my f-fault.” Stefan sniffles, rubbing the irritated red splotch on his upper arm.

Lily purses her lips. “And do you believe that?”

“I-I don’t know….”

“Do you believe that your loving father is cruel? That he was not well within his right as a father to ensure you learn from your mistakes? To better you?”

“N-no! Of course not!” Stefan knows that Father only wants what is best. That he broke the glass, and therefore must be punished. It was a silly mistake, but now Stefan knows to be more careful. He’s learned his lesson; if he’s good, Father won’t have to discipline him again.

“Then you needn’t worry yourself with your brother’s lies. Damon… he will say and do anything to get what he wants. He will deceive you into blindly trusting his every word. I know you love him, Ange, but that’s the truth. He’s fooled himself into thinking he deserves lenience for his own wickedness, and he’ll do the same to you.”

Oh. So that’s why Father has to discipline Damon so often. He hasn’t learned from his mistakes, not like Stefan has.

[-skip-]

There’s a few more minutes of sniffling, before Stefan leaves his mother’s rooms, wiping his red-rimmed eyes on his sleeves.

The boy looks up to see his brother waiting outside the door, and promptly looks away, muffling another sniff. Damon sighs.

“Are you feeling a bit better?” He asks, and Stefan nods stiffly, still not facing the teenager. It seems like Damon’s going to have to be the one to carry this conversation. “Would you like to go feed the ducks?”

Stefan doesn’t reply, biting his lip and decidedly not looking his brother’s way.

“Stef?” Damon’s tone is soft, and he kneels down to Stefan’s height.

“No,” the boy says, “I would like to be left alone for a while. Excuse me.” He strides off, leaving Damon crouched on the floor, dumbfounded.

Damon shakes himself out of it and barges into his mother’s rooms, no regard for proper etiquette. He looks to Lily with a hardened expression. “Why do you defend him?” He asks. “Why do you act like Father is some saint when you know just as well as I do that it’s the opposite?”

Lily sighs. “Of course you were eavesdropping.”

“Why do you defend Father?”

His mother rolls her eyes. “I do not wish to fill Stefan’s head with slander and lies. When I am gone, your father will be the only parent Stefan has. I cannot influence Stefan to turn against his own kin.”

Oh, the irony. Mother truly has a gift.

“You’re making it worse.” He glares at the frail woman. “These are lies you tell to convince Stefan that what Father does is okay. You’ve manipulated Stefan, for your own peace of mind. He’s a child. It was an accident.”

Lily just brushes off the words without a care. “Don’t pretend to be concerned for Stefan’s sake, Damon,” she says airily. “You’re upset that I’ve loosened your hold on your brother. That he is resistant to your influence. Once again, only ever thinking of yourself.”

Damon scoffs. “That little trick of yours no longer works on me, Mother. Speaking things into existence doesn’t make them any more true.”

[teddybeartoji]

spent the whole day dreaming abt a new little au but i'm scared to actually talk abt it bc................. i can't ever fucking finish anything now can i😒😒😒

[revasserium]

Hello sweets

How are you? I really hope you are doing well!

Can you please if I'm not bothering you have number 8 with Wakatoshi?

reqs are open :)

8. larger than fiction

ushijima; 1,283 words; fluff, one-sided love, but it's literally not angst. just trust me on this one lol.

when you think of superheroes, you do not think of him.

you do not think of the way his raw strength and power might be a blessing from the gods. you do not think of how his absolute trust and knowledge in his own abilities might be thrust upon him by some careless divinity. you do not think he was chosen or birthed into this world with his one purpose already pressed into the curves of his body, the lines of his hands.

“uwah… wakatoshi-kun is really blessed, isn’t he?”

you blink, looking up from your sideways phone, propped up on your desk, playing the newest mv of the latest boyband debut.

“he is?”

this time, its your friend who blinks back at you, stuttering.

“you… you don’t think so?”

you quirk your lips, eyes sliding back to the mv, where a boy with cherry lips and fire-engine hair is winking at the camera.

“no. not really,” you say, taking a long sip of your half-finished strawberry milk, thinking back to the events of the past summer.

b-bam! thump-thump-thump. b-bam!

“out,” you say, squinting at the place where the ball had landed, just a hair’s-breath beyond the line. by the time you look back up, he is already standing back, another ball in his hands.

“one more,” he says, as he tosses, his heels rocking back for a second before he takes his first step, and then another. you watch as he jumps, his entire body a defiance, a motion against the pull of the earth, the laws of gravity — he reaches up with a hand drawn behind his head and when he swings it forward to meet the falling arc of the ball, you swear the earth beneath you shudders.

b-bam!

ushijima lets out a breath, looking up at you from the other side of the fluttering net, and you wonder briefly if you were to map out all the different parts of him onto a gridded scale, parse him out into perfect squares, which bits might be the ones that contain all that strength, all that perseverance. and then, you laugh to yourself, nodding as you shoot him a thumbs up to signal — good, this last one was good.

he smiles, nods, and walks back to the baseline.

what a stupid question, you think, because the answer is, and has always been, obvious —

all of him.

in the hallway, the bell rings.

“ah… isn’t it a little sad?”

“what, that that volleyball-idiot ushiwaka doesn’t even realize that the prettiest girl in our year is in love with him?”

“yeah… i mean, really — how thick can he be? poor girl.”

you finish your strawberry milk and click off your phone.

“nee — you wanna come watch a movie with us tonight?”

you flash your well-meaning friend a smile, but you shake your head.

“sorry. i’ve got plans.”

b-bam! thump-thump-thump. b-bam!

“again,” he says, already picking up another ball.

outside, the sun has long since set, and the moon and stars have shed their cloaks of silver-kissed clouds. the night is deep and dark and laden with the sweet promises of youth — out there, teenagers just like you are laughing, eating popsicles, trading texts, watching movies, chatting about the latest manga updates, but here, it’s just you and him and one more ball.

briefly, you think of the walk home later, of how he’ll diligently walk on the outside of the sidewalk, of how he’ll watch to make sure you close the door before he’ll turn and leave. you think of how the following morning, he’ll be there at 7:45am right on the dot, and how he’ll bow to your mom as she thanks him for taking care of you.

b-bam! thump-thump-thump. b-bam!

“and… that’s one hundred!” you say, smiling wide as you reach out to pick up the scattered volleyballs around you, tossing them at him one at a time, watching as he diligently returns each to the large blue ball-bin with a dig. the ones he misses, he picks up to toss back to you, so he can try again.

“thanks,” he says, when the two of you have finished locking up the gymnasium, turning towards the main road where the bus stop is. out here, girls giggle in pastel pleated skirts, lips glittering with strawberry-flavored gloss. out here, boys gather in clusters to hype each other up before shoving one of them towards a group of giggling girls. out here, the summer ebbs and flows, crests and crashes against the jagged reefs of oncoming adulthood, and ushijima walks beside you, one hand on his sports bag, the other tucked into his jersey pocket.

“no problem,” you say, as you get to your front door and he stills to wait for you to walk away. you grin, waving a hand over your shoulder, “same time tomorrow?”

“un.”

you do not turn to check if he’s still watching.

months later, when they lose to karasuno, you don’t tell him you’re sorry, or that he did the best he could.

because both of you know that his strength and power comes not from the gods, but from uncountable hours of condition-training, and that his absolute trust and knowledge of his own abilities comes not from divinity, but from an entire lifetime of trying and failing, and trying again until failure is no longer a word in his dictionary.

because neither of you think that he was chosen for this, because you know that this is the choice, and that he is the maker. and that every morning, he wakes up to make it, again, and again, and again.

because he is not a superhero, so this losing is not a tragedy.

because he is not a superhero, and this is just one more tally on the calluses and tick-marks that mar his hands from the number of times he’s fallen and gotten back up again to find that you were right there by his side.

“tonight,” he says on the bus-ride back to school, where goshiki is sniffling next to a perplexed tendou, where shirabu is methodically un-taping each of his fingers, he turns to you with a steady, hard-lined look in his eyes.

“we practice a hundred more spikes.”

you nod, leaning against the back of your seat with a soft smile.

“alright,” you say, you don’t need to look to know that he’s smiling too.

“thank you,” he says, when, after some unnamable hours of spike-practice, you’re finally locking up for the day.

“yeah, of course,” you say.

“you… you’re my best friend,” he says. on your usual walk home, the main street is quiet for once, because it’s so damn late. you wonder if your parents will be worried, but then again, they know who you’re with, so they’ve no reason to be anyway.

“yeah,” you say, “i know.”

you turn to find him looking at you, and you wonder if you were to parse yourself into perfect squares, which bits of you ushijima would be most afraid of losing. and the answer comes, obvious, as the stars that shine bright in the night —

all of you.

because he is not a superhero, and you have never needed anyone’s saving.

because he is just a boy, who’s first and only love is the sport he plays. and you’re just a girl, who wouldn’t have him any other way.

[qrowsofafeather]

I was tagged literally a month ago by @fickleminder but hadn't written anything in awhile so I kept putting this off. 😅

"Last line challenge" except I wasn't paying attention to the assignment and did a couple paragraphs of incredibly rough WIP... I think I've rewritten this entire scene like 4 times now, which never happens!

For the series (dis)Obey Me!, seven short one shots of my MC struggling with her sins during the first year of the Exchange Program. Wrath occurs the first school day after making her pact with Beel.

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

"So you shoved him over the railing."

She turned her head to acknowledge the speaker, Lucifer. "I did, yeah, but I wasn't trying to. I was just going to grab that arrogant d-”

Anger surged within her again as the scene replayed in her mind, at once too-fast and too-slow - hot breath against her ear as Mammon swore in what sounded like 5 different languages, lean brown arms wrapped around her waist hauling her back from the railing with literally inhuman strength.

Was it wrong to be happy the bully got hurt as a direct result of his actions? It went directly against her moral code, but the memory of his pained screams calmed the raging fire within her.

Emma saw Lucifer’s brow furrow even more, his gaze shifting millimeters to look past her at the other Sins standing by the door. She fended off the affront, the implication that the Avatar of Wrath had somehow influenced her actions. Her anger, and the resultant unacceptable action, were solely her own!

“Don't get that attitude with me, young missy!” “Do you know who you're talking to!?”

She waved a hand in the air dismissively, covering for her brief emotional cooldown. “-that demon whatshisname, it's not important.”

It hadn't been mentioned, and the human wondered if any of the witnesses had noticed at all, but she knew what she'd seen, even if for only a split second - a pale hand, nails tipped with green, delicately prying her hands loose from the offending demon’s necktie.

[astraveil]

would love to know the dynamic between Astra and Y'shtola

HOO BOY I HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS ABOUT THEM ACTUALLY

Y’shtola and Astra weren’t exactly close in ARR; comrades, sure, but on a level most would consider just cordial. Getting to know each other better through the ordeal that was pre-Titan events and commiserating with the absurdity of it all, the two grew closer over time and would have certainly considered themselves good friends by the end of 2.0.

After ARR and the events of the Crystal Tower raids specifically, Astra was a fucking MESS. Heavensward was essentially the peak of her self-destructive behavior, throwing herself headlong into danger and into the arms of whoever she deemed fit for a night (with the okay from Aethis, of course). This included Y’shtola.

Even if the both of them look back on that time with a bit of regret, as neither of them were entirely in the best headspace when it all unfolded, both Astra and Y’shtola understand the importance of opening up to each other more than they did in the past.

They’re close now, a certain desire to protect the other blossoming between them even if it largely goes unspoken. Y’shtola is often the one that reminds Astra of the importance of taking care of herself, the whole of Shadowbringers opening her eyes to the lengths Astra would go to protect and not worry her friends and loved ones, especially at the cost of her own health and safety. It frustrates her, but she understands where it comes from, many a conversation being had between them as if they’d always been close from the start. Fraught with a certain tension at times, closer than most would consider a simple friendship to be, but then again…a lot of things in Astra’s life are quite complicated. They’ve learned to live with it, never broaching beyond that unless they were both absolutely certain they needed more than just each other’s company at any point (this includes parts of shadowbringers. things were stressful).

Even in the face of Astra’s near-death in Endwalker, Y’shtola would always stay just close enough by her side as she recovered over those few moons, helping where she was needed and reminding Aethis and G’raha to not run themselves completely ragged in the face of it. She could’ve sworn she heard Astra call her Shtola in the wee hours of the morning at least once, beads of sweat on her brow and locked in the midst of a dream, most likely…whether or not she hallucinated it from stress, she’s never been quite certain.

In summary because I’ve been yapping long enough, Y’shtola holds Astra’s well-being in incredibly high regard and vice versa. They’re essentially ride-or-die for each other now, even if Y’shtola isn’t afraid to chastise Astra’s more reckless decisions.