#hunted for a fanfic like this

[gazkamurocho]

"Haven't you heard about them, Kiryu? They're the 'Jima brothers'. They're new at the school and are gaining a bad reputation." [...] "You better watch your ass, kyoudai. That eyepatch kid stares at you like an animal. He's probably gonna come after you next" "Heh, really? I wanna see him try."

Part 2

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Sharing is Caring!

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[benjaminthecoathanger]

okay, because i saw a poll earlier and i thought the choices weren't clear enough and also the answers i saw to it annoyed me and also i'm curious:

NOTES:

I am including having watched gameplay of a game and not having played it as having watched the source material

In this context if you are writing fic/making art and you are not being commissioned to do so. This is purely for funsies

You getting into something because you saw a post/gifset/video about it and then watched the source material does not count. That's just how you get into new things.

Goncharov does not count because it's not real. I'll break kayfabe here I don't care.

[bittwitchy]

Sebastian Stan. in a bathtub, which is all I actually got out of this movie.

[chuthulhu-reads]

[ID: A panel from Dungeon Meshi. Laios, with a downcast expression, is saying, "Ducks don't come along carrying leeks on their backs, you know." Marcille, looking even sadder, says, "I'm sorry. You're right." End ID.]

...God, the carnage that would be unleashed by letting Laios loose in the Pokemon World, tho. He'd make the BDG video look extremely sober and hinged. Professor Oak would ask how his pokedex is coming and he'd hand over a cookbook he's writing. He'd find Mew under the truck and roast it whole like a chicken. AO3 has zero crossovers so far and I don't know if I'm disappointed or relieved

[loosingmoreletters]

Oooo for a prompt: Jiang Cheng raises a-Yuan thinking he’s actually Wei Wuxian’s biological child

Anon, you really said “I will cater to Letter’s interests” with this ask.

When Jiang Cheng finds the boy, he’s still grieving. He hasn’t stopped grieving since they received the first terrible news of Jin Zixuan’s demise. He grieves, he rages, he cries and carries on. A circle reminiscent of the schedule followed by a boy burned out by loss.

He grieves when he pulls a-Yuan from the ash. The child is barely breathing, malnourished too, wrapped in an adult’s cloak.

Wei Wuxian, he thinks, and presses the boy close to his neck, hides his face when he hurries down a troubled path where his most trusted disciples wait. They do not question him, they ask nothing at all but how quickly they need to return home.

Fast, is his reply. He’s seventeen again, running across the countryside on bloody feet to get his brother home. He saved Wei Wuxian then, he saves a-Yuan now.

The healer asks him how old the child is and Jiang Cheng has no answer for her. He’s so very small, sleeping off his fever under her care. She thinks he is around two, perhaps a little younger, but they have no way of knowing. Everyone who would, is dead.

Like the rest of Jiang Cheng’s family, all of them, but Jin Ling. His nephew is a healthy baby, chubby fat and dressed in only the softest of silks. He’s loud too, crying out for parents he doesn’t have anymore, in everything but this, the exact opposite of a-Yuan.

Jiang Cheng hadn’t questioned a-Yuan’s presence in the Burial Mounds the first time round, too caught up in all his other anger. Maybe he should’ve stopped fighting with his brother to ask. Why would Wei Wuxian give everything up for the Wen if the Wen wasn’t his?

The following weeks agree with him. A-Yuan grows into Wei Wuxian’s smile, no longer asks for the dead as his memories disappear. Jiang Cheng wonders if his brows resemble Wen Chao, Wen Qing or her brother, any of them. Jiang Cheng has no clear memory of them he cared to keep, but he knows Wei Wuxian, hears him in the way a-Yuan phrases his question.

He knows his brother’s child.

Perhaps the other parent doesn’t matter, maybe the story there is as sad and terrible as every other.

His sister and her husband are dead, his brother is gone, his nephews are orphans both.

Jiang Cheng is tired of losing family.

The clan registry burned when the Wen attacked them. Jiang Yanli painstakingly wrote a new one when they rebuilt. He stares at her handwriting as he adds a-Yuan’s name to it. No one will ever look at this document, see that his sister put Wei Wuxian down as their brother, see that Jiang Cheng never struck him from the books, that he adds his son.

The Yiling Patriarch is dead, his legacy is cruel and terrible and it perished in the Burial Mounds.

A-Yuan is here.

The maids call him Jiang-gongzi, Xiao Yuan, Yuan-er, and a hundred different little endearments they’re quick to adapt for Jin Ling too when Jiang Cheng is allowed to take him to Lotus Pier.

A-Yuan loves his little cousin, and maybe if Jiang Cheng raises them together like this from the start just right, they’ll never break apart.

Only a handful of disciples know just where Jiang Cheng picked his nephew up, everyone else believes him a deceased cousin’s son.

It is for the best.

There’s no place in the world for Wei Wuxian’s son after all, none at all, unless he remains Jiang Cheng’s nephew first.

[mitchellpete]

Kinktober Day 17 - Edging

pairing: ethan hunt x f!reader

cw: fwb to lovers?, mentions of drinking, drunk sex (kind of), brief description of injuries, imf agent!reader, edging, nipple licking, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), penetration, overstimulation, crying, cum marking

word count: 1613

kinktober masterlist here.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

–

Ethan was not typically one to tease. It was nice sometimes, but for the most part, he just liked to please you. There was nothing more satisfying than to see you unravel for him from start to finish.

It was different tonight, however, after a few drinks with the team for a well-deserved post-mission celebration. Ethan’s body was aching; he’d taken the hardest hits, as he usually does. The difference about this particular mission, though, was that it was you by his side. Until the very end. You’d limped back to the safe house together, arms around one another, blood still dripping from the various cuts and lashes on your bodies. None of it mattered anymore, though. None of the cuts and bruises and aching pains could take away from the fondness between you and Ethan, the way your relationship—which had started as just a simple dancing among your feelings for one another—blossomed immediately after you helped him save the fucking world. 

You’d been sleeping with one another. Not frequently; the nature of your jobs did not allow that, but at any chance you both had. You kissed, too. Passionately, fervently, like lovers do. But there wasn’t any sort of label, nothing to go by in terms of what you were to one another. You guess you could still just call him your co-worker, who you substantially had feelings for and occasionally made love to. 

Tonight, though, as you fall into bed together, tipsy and giggly, there’s something very different. You’re not quite sure what it is. 

Ethan’s hands aren’t as gentle as usual, his touch eager and almost demanding. His mouth is sweet from the alcohol you’d been drinking, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. 

“Can I try something?” he husks in between kisses.

“Mhm,” is all you mumble against his lips, entranced by the alcohol in your system, his mouth on yours, and his warmth.

He pulls apart, grins, an excited little glint in his eyes. He momentarily looks around, and then visibly gets an idea.

“Can you hang onto the headboard?” he asks softly, guiding you up the mattress. 

You scoot up the best you can until your head hits the pillows, relaxing your body as Ethan settles above you. His hands immediately roam, reaching for your clothes. You aid him in taking them off, and then eagerly reach for his own when you’re completely stripped. He stops you, moves your hands away with a small smile, and takes them off himself. Slips off his jacket, his t-shirt, and then wriggles out of his jeans. 

You giggle, amused, and do your part in holding onto the headboard instead. You’re wondering what it is he’ll do, the uncertainty thrilling. Sex with Ethan was always the same stupor of hot, hungry passion. Lips numbing, tiring each other out. Usually not many words exchanged. It’s different tonight. Your connection to one another feels deeper, more trustful.

Ethan has always respected you. Even the first time you had sex, it was always about you and what you needed. It wasn’t just a need to blow off some steam, to finally give in to the tension; it was his infatuation with you. He was instantly obsessed with pleasing you, and it remained that way every time you had sex. He wasn’t gentle by any means, but he wasn’t rough, either. It was the perfect passionate pace every time. It was like making love. 

The way his arms wrap around your legs to pull you to him is not at all like the usual. You squeal in surprise at his strength, and watch as he brings your core to his middle. Your legs momentarily wrap around his waist as he leans down above you, mouth closing around one of your hardened nipples. He kisses and sucks, eliciting a high pitched moan out of you. One hand comes off the headboard to cup the back of his head as he sloppily kisses at your chest, moving onto your other breast, to your sternum, and back and forth.

You relish in the pleasure that courses through your body, eyes closed, a little smile on your face. Even more so when Ethan’s hand slips in between your bodies to touch your slick center. 

“Ethan,” you gasp out, the thickness of his fingers slipping through your folds.

The pleasure builds up quicker than you can process, your breathing getting heavier against the top of his head as his tongue swirls against your nipple. You squirm when his thumb swipes over your clit, body jerking at the sudden contact, eyes widening. 

It continues to build, your body tensing more and more, and you’re sure you’re seconds away from cumming when Ethan suddenly pulls back. Mouth off, hand off. 

“Fuck,” you whine breathlessly, lifting your head in surprise as he backs away just enough so that your legs untangle from his waist. “I was just about to—what’s wrong?”

He grins, hands still lingering on your legs. “What do you mean?” 

The pleasure floats around in your body, diminishing. Ethan settles on his stomach, spreading your legs apart to face your dripping cunt. You gasp as he places soft, tender kisses to your inner thighs, traveling as close to your center as he can and then trailing them the other way, teasing. 

You realize what he’s doing. 

It’s almost dizzying. Just the thought of getting to do this with him. 

When his mouth slots against you, your entire body goes slack. You try not to thrust against his face, but the orgasm you almost had just a minute ago is still lingering, still on the verge of spilling. Your grip on the headboard tightens. 

Ethan’s mouth is gentle, but you can feel the tip of his finger prodding at your hole. When it slips inside just a little, he pulls back, lips shiny and parted. “Can you hold it for me? Just a little?”

Fuck. 

“H-hold it?” you repeat, feeling him stretch you on his finger. “What do you mean?”

“Try not to cum. Can you do that?” he asks tenderly.

Just his request almost sends you over the edge, but you nod. You grimace when he leans in to swipe his tongue over your clit, the feeling almost too much to hold onto. 

The good thing about having had sex with Ethan multiple times before, is that he grew incredibly accustomed to your body, what reactions he could get out of you, when you were close to cumming. That’s why, when he feels your body tense, and you’re sure you’re really not gonna make it, he pulls back again. 

A frustrated cry comes out of you, loud and whiny. Your fingers slide into his hair, pulling slightly in impatience. 

“First time you do this to me,” you pant, your breathing erratic.

“Just wanted to try something new,” he murmurs against your inner thigh. He presses a firm kiss there, and then sits up. 

Your hand returns to the headboard again, and you watch with hungry eyes as Ethan grasps himself in his fist, cheeks flushed. It’s earth-shattering when he leans in and pushes inside of you. You feel your legs shake, your toes curl, as he sinks in with ease. 

Ethan doesn’t prolong it. He gets right to it; languid strokes at first, and then he increases his pace the more your expression calls for it. It’s still a challenge to hold on but you do it just because he asked. Above you, Ethan admires the pleasure painted on your face. He looks dazed, too, enthralled by how tight you feel around him. 

Your cries get louder as it gets harder and harder to hang on, mixed with the sharp sounds of skin on skin. Ethan suddenly pulls out the moment he feels you clench around him, getting a sob out of you.

Tears well in your eyes. “Ethan—fuck—please,” you plead, sniffling.

He cups your face, leans in to kiss you sweetly. He distracts you for a minute, mouth moving yours gently, and then slips inside of you again. 

It happens a few more times. You lose count after the second time, too intoxicated and overwhelmed with pleasure to even grasp anything but the sudden loss; how you get right to your breaking point and he knows exactly when to pull back. It’s so unlike him. It kind of makes this whole thing hotter, if you didn’t have the very sickening, very urgent need to cum once and for all. In the moment, you’re sure you’ve never needed anything more.

You nearly scream out when it finally tips over the edge. The pleasure crashes against you like a wave, wringing your body against the mattress. Ethan holds onto you, lets you thrash underneath him. He presses kisses to your face as you feel it, his thrusts momentarily slowing to let you breathe. He’s chasing his own high, however, and soon enough resumes his movement. He fucks you through your orgasm, sloppy and untamed, sensitivity immediately clouding your senses. Tears slip down your cheeks as his pace quickens, until it soon crashes for him too. 

He pulls out instantly, spilling his cum all over your abdomen, and his fist. 

Tired and sore, he immediately slumps beside you, trying to catch his breath. Your head rolls over onto his shoulder. 

He glances at you, floating in his high. His brows furrow; he touches your face. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” 

You wipe at your cheeks. Waves of pleasure continue to swim through you, your body glowing in ecstasy. “No.. that was great, actually.” 

He breathes out, smiling.

You lean your head back against him, sighing happily. “Where did that come from, though?”

[aludraslytherin]

James, talking to Sirius: I'll follow Reggie into Hell and back, but I just wish he could stop going there Reg, hunting down the the tiara in the Room of Requiement: I feel like someone is talking about me

[littencloud9]

on road trips, new beginnings, and dazai discovering what it means to have a family

🦐 gen, 2.1k. featuring bad music, a chaotic snack shopping trip, and fukuzawa being the Dad™️

🦐 written for @starrynightarchive :) happy birthday vi!!

[browneyeddevil]

Question for the veteran fangirlies out there

Hi friends, i know I've been absent for a while and this is kinda a random post to pop back on, but I recently got a short burst of spare time for one of my favourite hobbies: reading fanfics by the wonderfully creative people within this community.

the question i pose: I landed on a fic called "happy endings" by an orphan account, a gifted work to amelia_day (@awhiskeyriver do you remember this person?!). I was wondering if anyone knows who wrote this fic and could let me know or link some of their other works here as i'm just obsessed with their writing style and was fully ready to dive down a rabbithole of their works before remembering that it was an orphan account 😭. it seems they were quite active in the fandom (y'all I went full stalker mode) until around 2021? from my own findings, I think it might have been silvercistern, but I can't be sure, and either way, I can't find any of their other works. does anyone know if they're still up? or if it even is silvercistern?

in short, help, please 🫠.

also if anyone else wants to also be stuck on a story for the next few days about masseuse!katniss and (lets be real) douchebag!peeta (he does a whole redemption arch) here's the link to the story happy endings.

[ruexvn]

𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚎

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ

𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝: hii <3 could you write "eyeless Jack x bestfriend!reader" ? you're the best <3

𝙰/𝙽: 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚝. 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎, 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜!!

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ

𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢'𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚞𝚗𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚝. 𝙰𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚝 𝚢/𝚗. 𝙰 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚆𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗? 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚜. 𝙷𝚎 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚎𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛; 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚐𝚎𝚍...𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎. 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚓𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝: 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜. 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚜. 𝚆𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝?

"𝙸 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎...𝚒𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚢..."

"𝙸𝚝𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚗𝚘?"

𝚈𝚎𝚊 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝. 𝙽𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚊 𝚋𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝? 𝙷𝚎𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢

"𝚓𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚌𝚌-"

"𝚒 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚞𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚏𝚞𝚗 𝚢𝚊 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠. 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚖"

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚝. 𝙾𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚝𝚘𝚘...𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌

"𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚒 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚠𝚒𝚌𝚑!?"

"𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝! 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚏𝚞𝚕..𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚢 𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎?"

"𝚒𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝"

𝙷𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚞𝚙 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚏 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚏 𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚋𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚕. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚞𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚓𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚝𝚑. 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚋𝚎𝚍, 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑, 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚛, 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛- 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚘𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚜. 𝚂𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚏 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚞𝚙𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚢.

𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛.

"𝚠𝚘𝚘𝚘! 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚐 𝚘𝚗𝚎. 𝙳𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎!"

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚍. 𝚂𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚜𝚘 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚐 𝚙𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚠 𝚞𝚙 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚠 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚐 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚙𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛. 𝙿𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚜 𝚖𝚒𝚡 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚓𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚎𝚍. 𝙱𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚏𝚞𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜, 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚢.

𝙾𝚗 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚓𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜 𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘. 𝙷𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜 𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚑 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗 𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚢𝚜? 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚎.

"𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚒 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚓𝚊𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚜..."

𝙸𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚞𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚓𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜..𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎. 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎. 𝙰 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊 𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚒𝚝

"𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎... 𝚘𝚘𝙾𝚘𝙾𝙷 𝙷𝚘𝚆 𝚌𝚄𝚃𝚎"

"𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚞𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚖 𝚒 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚕𝚎?"

"𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚞𝚑! 𝚒𝚖 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘𝚘"

"𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎....𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕"

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚓𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎..𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚎'𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ

[bubblybloob]

Ah shit, here we go again.

[castillon02]

Wait, so that thing about citrus trees being willing to cross-pollinate with anything. 

Combined with part-dryad!Jaskier whose tree is a lemon tree. 

Combined with leshy!Eskel. 

When life gives you tree monsters, make lemonade. 

[intoloopin]

ִ࣪𖤐 ─ ⋆ : WAIT! BUT THAT'S ACTUALLY... - AN INTERACTIVE FIC GAME!

Ever been so used to checking into the fic tag that you began to associate a face with a name, a group, an character's era? Because I have, and here are some of these examples!

To play to game, just share 10 face claims or less that you just can't help but associate with that one character, be them canon or not. Anyone's invited to join in, really! The goal's just to have some fun!

The little template I made for this can be found here, but any sort of graphic can work. The psd coloring I used is this one.

THE OCS I CAN'T HELP BUT SEE: Yejun / Andrew from @fcble; Cléo from @hausofanya; Cheska from @stcpidcupid; Junyeong from @plasticflwrs; Dayna from @alwaysvivid; Reiko from @hshtag; Noah from @bluwavez; Chloe from @chloekwon; Hiro from @lvcky0ne; Bambi from @bttrflyeffekt.

[mitchellpete]

Kinktober Day 2 - Public

pairing: ethan hunt x f!reader

cw: inspired by mi2, implied agent!reader, public sex, wall sex, penetration

word count: 1875

kinktober masterlist here.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

-

The Spanish villa is overflowing with guests; a blend of very important people looking to make business deals with one another, the people working for the very important people, Flamenco dancers adorned in deep shades of red, probably a million partygoers, you. Ethan Hunt, if you were right. Among the sea of people, you swear you’d seen him. You could recognize him from a mile away. 

You couldn’t confirm though. It was hard to get a better look, losing him in the swarm of guests. Not to mention your certainty that the party’s host had been notified of your presence, surely sending enforcements after you any second now.

The thing about Ethan, though, is that, between the two of you, he’s always had the upper hand. Turning a corner on your way upstairs, you run right into something solid. The expensive material of a suit, a perfect face. Extraordinary looking hair. 

Looks like he’d spotted you first.

“Ethan.”

He grabs your arms, carefully backtracks you down the only two steps you’d reached. Back around the corner and against a pillar. He smiles. “Hi.”

“So it was you.”

“What are you doing here?” he asks, a sincere softness to his voice. He holds onto your arms.

You can’t tell him. You wonder if he’ll pry. Putting on a smile, you simply say, “Enjoying the party. What about you?”

He takes a moment to think about it, puckering his lips in thought before they drop into a smirk. “Let’s call it.. research.” 

Okay. He’s on a mission, then. You’ve got maybe three seconds to wonder if it’s got anything to do with yours before you spot the enforcements. Down the hall, dressed in tactical gear, looking around. Your widened eyes meet Ethan’s, and you can tell he immediately knows.

“Please help me blend in,” you whisper, realizing too late that he’s not going to hear you over the music. 

Luckily, his instincts save the day, and he pushes you past the pillar and into the shadow it has cast. Your back gently hits the wall behind it just as flashing lights begin pouring into the dark hallway, illuminating your spot every few seconds at a time. It seems something has started on the main floor, a performance, perhaps. Your stomach knots as the men sent after you stalk closer to the pillar you’re hiding behind, but Ethan’s lips are on yours before they pass. You immediately sink into his kiss, feeling the softness of his fingers gripping your jaw as he delves into your mouth.

You close your eyes then, giving them a break from the white glare that seems to be getting faster as the music’s tempo picks up.

The feigned kiss becomes passionate, almost real, with Ethan’s body pressing to yours in an effort to hide you. You’re chest to chest, and you groan into his mouth at the tightness of the dress against your breasts. It’s as if he knows (yet again); his hand goes around behind your neck to delicately lower your zipper just a few inches, giving you a bit of room to breathe.

It’s then that he breaks from your mouth to kiss and nip at your neck, the front of your dress now a bit loose from his work on your zipper, your cleavage exposed to him. Your eyes dart to the hallway; the men have passed, the hall empty. Maybe this is where you pull apart and go your separate ways again. Ethan continues leaving a trail of wet kisses over your collarbone, arms wrapping around your middle. 

It feels good. You almost want to moan. You settle for a happy sigh instead, “I owe you one.”

Another smirk, and one last kiss under your jaw before he’s facing you again. “We’ll call it even if you tell me what you’re doing here.”

You exhale, lips puffy from his kiss. It’s easy to get lost in his eyes; you have many times before. You can’t, though. Just like you’re sure he can’t tell you why he’s here. Maybe, for now, all you can do is hide here with him.

He begins to pull away, and you panic. 

“Wait.”

As if on cue, the flashing lights from the center of the party stop, a dark blue glow washing over the hall instead. You’re left in the pale darkness, body still pressed to his. 

Fuck it.

You lean up, capturing his lips again. You decide to let your hands roam, into the suit and against his pecs, then up and around his neck to pull him as close as he was just a few seconds ago. Your knee tips up slightly, your thigh slipping from the slit in your dress to rub between his legs. 

“We’re doing this?” he groans. “Here?”

You ignore the question, instead moving your hands to the button on his pants. If he stops you, then so be it. 

He doesn’t, though, his hands joining your shaky ones to get the button off and his zipper down. Reaching into his pants, you start palming at him through his underwear. The angle is odd but he squirms against you, lips slightly parted. It feels good, it seems, so you continue. Your touch turns to grip, and you pull at him as he moans against you. Letting you touch him, he presses his hands against the wall on either side of your head.

“Touch me, please,” you beg, hand slipping in to pull his half-hard cock out and fully into your palm.

He growls at the feeling, the hand closest to you dipping down the curve of your body and under your ass to hook your leg around his waist. The slit in your dress exposes your thighs very nicely, and he smiles at the easy access.

“Nice dress,” he muses, leaning in to kiss at your neck again, his hand slipping into the slit.

When you feel his finger prodding at your clothed cunt, you throw your head back against the wall in impatience. The risk of getting caught slips your mind; all you can think of is how badly you need to feel him. “Please,” you breathe out for him.

You stroke him until he’s fully hard, and by the time he is, he’s got your underwear shoved to the side and a finger working the growing wetness between your legs. You cover your mouth with your free hand, letting him work you open on his one digit. 

One finger becomes two, and he adds his thumb against your clit for good measure. You have to bite your tongue to not cry out.

He doesn’t prolong it, though. You don’t have much time here. The music could stop, the lights could turn on, someone could walk by and spot you, or worse, it could be the men sent after you. Despite all the possibilities, you realize you’re not really stressing as much as you should be. This, though, is unheard of for him. He doesn’t intend on fucking up. Ethan’s fingers slip out of you, and you feel their wetness against your thigh when he grips at them to pull you closer against him. He lines himself against you as best as he can, eyebrows pulled together in concentration. 

The whole thing is messy and uncomfortable. You’re not sure how this’ll work. The wall provides absolutely no comfort to your now strained back, and your calf is kind of starting to burn from standing on your tiptoes. 

Your back arches off the wall just a bit when the head of his cock enters you. The angle is still odd but it does help him slide into you, and he’s halfway inside you when a strangled moan escapes your lips. Lightning fast, he removes a hand from your waist to cover your mouth with his palm, and you slip down onto your heel. The action sinks you down onto the rest of him, your hips flush with his.

Whatever performance is going on on the main floor is surely enough to hide your sounds, but you can never be too careful. 

The position is awkward; his cock feels good when you’re on your tiptoes (uncomfortably so), and you’re not sure how he intends to thrust into you like this, so you settle for rolling your hips against him instead. You find it hard to do one-legged.

He removes his palm to kiss you deeply again, like the kiss that started this. He follows you in rolling his hips instead of thrusting up, and the pleasure swims through you in waves. He slowly snaps his movement at first, a few seconds apart each time, your bodies mostly just pressed to one another, until he finds a better angle. 

It only helps a tad bit, however, his thrusts shallow. He’s deeper inside you than he is moving in and out, but it still feels delicious. 

Your head rolls back against the wall again, your neck exposed to him. He leans in to kiss and nip where he’s face-level. You’d almost forgotten what a passionate lover he was. The pleasure turns white hot, heat flushing your entire body. The unzipped front of his pants meets your dripping core with each thrust, elevating your senses. Clothed public sex. That’s a new one. 

His groans are quiet but hot against your ear, only fueling the pit of fire in your stomach. 

“Keep.. an eye out,” he rasps, his voice gravely and low.

How could you, though? 

You’re itching closer and closer to your release, biting your lip hard to avoid making noise. The burn in your leg from holding yourself up against him is irritating you completely, but the orgasm you’re chasing is so close already, what with the quick work of his fingers and—this entire fervorous situation, really. You squirm and try rolling your hips to match his movement. Ethan, in his own impatience, reaches between your bodies to thumb at your clit again.

You cum a minute later with an inevitable loud whine.

Ethan feels you clench around him, immediately pulling out to finish on his hand. A slight bit of pain meets your orgasm when your heel fully situates itself on the ground again.

Ethan lets go of the leg that he had hooked around his waist, and your knees feel wobbly when you attempt to set it down. Your orgasm pools in your lower abdomen and you keep from crying out in its coming afterglow. All you can do is lean against the wall as Ethan cums into his fist with a heavy grunt. 

Panting, the both of you stare at each other for a moment. Ethan comically glances down at the mess he’s made. He cocks a brow before meeting your eyes again, tucking himself into his pants as quickly as he can and wondering how the hell he’s going to clean himself up. 

“Let’s maybe not do this again.”

You can’t help but snicker. The ambience surrounding you is still the same; the hall is still a pool of dark blues and shadows. The music from the center of the party is still going. It’s then that it dawns on you. You laugh as you join him in fixing your garments. “We probably could’ve done this upstairs.”

[sapphiretanto]

Does anyone know of any good crossover fics between TMNT 2003 and 2012?