#look at his sharp teeth.........................

[proneterror204]

Vampire Cass!

Stupid Fruitloop and his stupid schemes! Right on Danny's class trip to Wayne Enterprises in Gotham, Vlad tested his Plasmius Maximus 2.0. Effectively taking away all of his Ghost powers for the whole day. In Gotham! He looks enough like a Wayne kid! He swears he already feels watched from the shadows.

Cass was restless. There was something in Gotham that was driving her instincts crazy. She already had her special smoothie from Alfred to curve her cravings, but there was something in town she needed to sink her teeth into. She needs to find it.

He's lost. Of course he's lost. just his luck he gets separated from his class and lost. Stupid Dash pushed him right into a dark alley! This is Gotham! He was literally almost mugged! Sam and Tucker weren't gonna answering his texts. Mr.Lancer had taken their phones because of Tuckers tech addiction being a distraction. "Not paying attention in Gotham could lead to disaster." How about being in trouble and needing to call for help? Great! now he's lost in an alley and... Someone was right behind him weren't they?

Cass was on the boy in an instant. He had good fighting instincts, but not good enough. She ducked under the punch he threw and grabbed his wrist. He used the other arm to block, she grabbed that wrist to and pinned both arms over his head and held them there with one arm. He then rammed his knee into her gut, but wasn't nearly strong enough to stop her. She grabbed the leg by the outer thigh and lifted it up moving closer into the boy. Putting her leg in-between his and leaning forward into his neck to drink.

Danny had no idea what was going on! He was standing on one leg, pinned against a wall, arms held above his head, and a woman was biting his neck. A sharp sting on his neck made him whine. He couldn't think straight and was starting to feel dizzy. The woman on him let out a sensual moan and he felt himself drift into unconsciousness. "whelp, second times the charm" Danny thought as he drifted away.

This boy tasted so good! He was like nothing she had ever tasted before! There was something foreign and exotic in his blood. When she had bitten him he gave out this little whine that was SO attractive, She had involuntarily moaned into him. She was enjoying every moment of this. The way he felt, tasted, smelled, the way he... He was unconscious! OH No! Too much! She needed to pull out now!

Danny woke up in his hotel room for the school trip. He still had his clothes on- Nope never mind! This was not his shirt! His favorite white shirt with the red oval was gone and now he was wearing a black shirt with one of the bat symbols on it. And his neck hurt!

"Cass where did you get that shirt?" Tim was sneaking into the kitchen, trying to get another cup of coffee. Where he found his sister in a obviously well-worn white and red shirt that he had never seen before. It clearly wasn't Cass's, though he knew she was a clothes thieve. She only gave him a smug look and said "mine".

Danny has no idea what happened in Gotham or how he got this mark on his neck. But he knows Vlad won't stop staring at it and won't come within 10 feet of him. He literally used it to case Vlad out of his house and down the street. It was hilarious! Maybe he should go back to Gotham and try to find out what happened.

[sceletaflores]

woo, my baby's got me all mixed up!

feat. logan howlett & wade wilson contains. 18+ SMUT MDNI, fem!reader, swearing, a bastard doomed polycule, more of 'why have just one bf when you can two bf's and why have just two bf's when you can have two bf's that are also each other’s bf's???', p in v, double penetration, one (1) single use of daddy, creampie(s), fingering...kind of (fem!receiving), oral sex, face sitting, face fucking, straight up nasty porn w/ zero plot, no use of y/n. a/n. this is a shorter one-shot but i can't not format it like a full fic i have to or i'll get hives. this is also just pure freak nasty gross actually probably the filthiest thing i've ever written that i thought up off too much nyquil pm last night. kisses!

"You're killing me babe," Wade groans lowly, cheek pressed to the slick skin of your inner thigh. "If my balls didn't feel like they just got the shit beat out of them in a back alley I'd be as hard as David Hasselhoff watching David Hasselhoff movies."

His hand is at work between your thighs, thick index finger slipped into your sensitive, puffy pussy.

It should gross you out that he loves doing this so much. It should make your stomach twist with all the unpleasant feelings a normal person might get.

It should, but it doesn't.

The familiar stretch is lost from taking Logan and Wade at the same time, a rare thing in your sex life because of how big they both are. But you were in a mood tonight.

Your pussy still clenches around him, trying in vain to tighten up, not used to feeling so empty.

The subtle pressure of Wade’s finger toes the line between pleasure and the sharp burn of 'almost too much' as it swirls along the sensitive walls of your pussy.

The first time he did it you were too fucked out of your mind to do anything other than ask what the hell he was doing.

"Gotta mix it up babe," was his reply, as easy as anything. "Don't want the baby batter to curdle, if you know what I mean."

Your heart stopped, flames lapping their way up your body as Wade scooped the thin line of come trickling from your abused hole to fuck it back in, back where it belonged.

It was so filthy, so depraved that it made you go liquid between your legs.

Your eyes almost immediately slid over to Logan, ready to see him shaking his head in irritation like he usually did whenever Wade ran his mouth in bed. You found nothing, no deep grimace or raised brow in sight.

There was an unmistakable heat in his gaze that matched your own, the inky black of his pupils blown so wide you could hardly see the hazel of his irises.

The casual raise of his right shoulder when he met your eye was undermined by the way his cock started to harden where it laid against his thigh, effectively tattling on him.

It told you all you needed to know about how he really felt watching Wade between your spread legs. That alone was enough to get you ready to go all over again.

It sort of became a thing after that.

"I'm not even doing anything..." you mumble breathlessly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't have to baby," Logan purrs from behind you, lips pressed to the top of your head. His hand skimming down the side of your body is enough to make goosebumps pebble along your skin, "Look perfect just like this."

It's been hours now, but they're still going. You're convinced that the two of them are the world's biggest horndogs, just once is never enough.

You lost track of tonight's rounds sometime after number five, not counting mouth and hand stuff of course. And it's starting to catch up to you, you’re tired, spent.

Wade curls his finger just right, brushing against the spot inside you that has a broken whine passing through your grit teeth. Your thighs start to tremble as a smug grin spreads across his face.

"Yeah, there it is," he teases, his voice low. He keeps the tip of his finger snug against that spot, rubbing firm circles over the sensitive nerves. "That's that spot ain't it, gorgeous."

"Wade," you mewl, hands fisting the sheets as you fight to keep still. You're worried too much squirming will make their come start dripping out around Wade's wrist, and you can't have that.

There’s a sudden silence to your right, the heaviness of it pulling at your attention. You shift slightly, catching the faintest rustle of movement from Logan.

His breath is warm against the crown of your skill, his strong chest still plastered to your back—but he's too quiet, too still. You tilt your head just enough to peek at him out of the corner of your eye, and the sight alone is almost enough to make you come on the spot.

Logan is leaning against the headboard lazily, arm that isn't circled around your waist snaking down his own with the hard length of his cock in his hand.

Your mouth waters at the sight of him, red and leaking pre-come all over his knuckles each time he twists his fist over the thick head. Your hips grind down unconsciously, a needy moan falling from your parted lips. The wet sound of it has your cheeks burning, eyes fixed on the way his heavy balls bounce with each rough tug, still so full.

"Fuck, that's it," Wade murmurs, slipping a second finger inside you while he presses a shit-eating grin to the soft skin of your lower stomach. "You like it when daddy jerks off while I'm knuckle deep in you?"

"Watch it," Logan mutters warningly, tone gone low and dark as spilled ink. His hand doesn't slow, the loose grip of his fist slipping up and down his dripping cock in time with the slick squelch of your pussy.

Your hips buck up against Wade’s hand, a loud whine tearing from your chest at the dirtiness of this whole thing. The familiar heat starts to stir in your belly, your pussy drooling more mess over his wrist the longer he plays with you.

Wade barely muffles his chuckle against your hip, dropping a quick kiss there before pulling his soaked fingers from your velvety warmth. You whine at the loss, but he doesn’t pay it any mind.

You’ll both get what you want soon enough.

"Alright, we should all know the drill by now people," he announces to you and Logan with a loud clap, pulling away from between your thighs to roll flat onto his back.

“Time to hop on the saddle, John Wayne,” he finishes, giving your ass a loving tap.

Logan snorts into your hair, dropping his cock to grab your hips and gently manhandle you until you’re situated directly over Wade’s face while Logan kneels in front of you. The jut of his cock bobbing inches away from your mouth.

Wade’s greedy fingers pry your swollen lips apart to watch the way his and Logan’s come starts to seep out from you, falling to drip onto his bare chest. He blows over the wet length of you, the cool air from his mouth has your hips twitching down in search of any friction you can get.

“Not so fast,” he scolds lightly, grinding his knuckle against the wet seam of you. Your nails dig crescent moons into his scarred shoulders, threatening to break the skin.

“You’ve gotta savor this moment, hot stuff,” he says slowly, leaning up to press a kiss directly over your throbbing clit. “You got the best seat in the house, don’t take it for granted–”

"Enough," Logan grunts, heavy hands falling on your shoulders to push you down on Wade's face, fully closing the gap. "Quit runnin' your damn mouth and make our girl feel good, red."

Wade's hands tighten their hold on your thighs, his hips bucking up off the mattress like he can't help it. His surprised moan rumbles against your clit, loud and shameless.

You cry out at the first drag of his tongue over your aching pussy, hot and wet as it slides through your dripping slit. You pitch forward, too caught up in pleasure to think clearly as you take Logan’s cock into your mouth. You take him all the way down to the root in one swift move, burying your nose in the dark hair surrounding the base. 

"Fuck," Logan bites out, eyes twisting shut as he feels your warm throat enveloping him. He takes your hair in his fist gently, just holding it as you swallow around him. 

Your hands move to rest on his thick thighs, nails scratching over the hair scattered along his skin. His breath shutters in his chest, his hips rolling forward ever so slightly, chasing the tight heat of your mouth.

The mix of your tongue tracing along the sensitive vein on the underside of his cock and the low, wet sounds of Wade devouring you has him pulsing in your mouth.

Your thighs shake on either side of Wade's head, the steady grip of his hands the only thing that keeps you from collapsing into a boneless heap on the mattress.

Your hips twitch the tiniest bit, rocking forward enough to grind your clit over the slope of his nose. He groans under you, squeezing the meat of your thighs in encouragement as he swirls his tongue through the mess dripping from your hole.

“That’s a good girl,” Logan praises gruffly, his hips speeding up. “Shut him up, baby. Make him fuckin’ eat it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, dragging your pussy along Wade’s mouth faster. You moan desperately around your mouthful, brain going hazy around the edges.

The frantic pace you set only makes their come leak from you faster, dripping down Wade’s face faster than he can keep up, and there's just so much.

A steady, thick stream of it that feels almost never ending thanks to Logan coming like he busted a pipe and absolutely flooding your insides every single time.

Wade doesn’t seem deterred in the slightest though, swirling his tongue along you with a new sense of urgency. His hands grip your hips tighter, his blunt nails digging into your skin deliciously as he slurps and sucks with unbridled enthusiasm, chasing every drop of come.

He’s sloppy with it, come sliding down his cheeks and chin in thin rivers of white.

Logan’s rough breath hitches above you, his fingers tightening in your hair as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks just the way he likes. His growl sends a thrill down your spine.

"C'mon, Wilson," Logan grunts, his hips speeding up. When you peer up at him, you can see the goading smile that just barely tugs the corner of his mouth up.

“Spitters are quitters, you know that."

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[moyazaika]

indulgence.

m! yandere x gn! reader / nsfw; shadows, phantom limbs, tongues, a degree of infantilisation. stalking && obsessive thoughts. ( mdni. )

beware; for here there be monsters, and this one is hungry.

“oh, there you are, sweetheart,” he drawls, and you feel something wet and slithering against the hollow of your throat, over the drool on your slack jaw and right up to your swollen lips, which part for him in silent submission. “you taste delicious. far sweeter than any cloying nectar.”

“i think i might just…” your back arches against the soft tablecloth he has you laid over, flushed skin slotting up right against an abyss; shivering against the yawning chasm of his own body (could you call it that?) which threatens to devour you whole. through the darkness, you can make out the shape of a man barely-there. pathetic glimpses of the features of your generous host.

“yes…” two more tongues, you miraculously manage to count through the daze of your poor, confused mind—squirming helplessly under the wet muscle as it licks the tears that well up in your eyes, whilst simultaneously lingering at your belly button, moving lower and lower—a hum, “i think i might just eat you from the inside out.”

“ah!” your hips buckle. it’s something cold, and slimy. invasive in its nature, as it slips over and under your slick skin, pulsing with need. “please, please, please.” the string of pathetic pleas leaves your bruised lips like a chant. “please, please!”

and your host, who had let you in so graciously when you showed up at the door of his crumbling manor, lost and in need of shelter, has always been nothing but generous. phantom lips brush against the shell of your ear, as he promises to take such good care of a sweet, lovely, needy human like you—

“sing for me, songbird.”

—and, you do.

the loveliest little sounds just for him, for the cold, wispy touch that digs into the plush of your thighs, holds down your arms so you’re rendered completely helpless to him (it, you remind yourself. this is no mere man) as he paws at your heaving chest, kneading and pulling and pinching. a sort of detached awe. fascination for how humans can be so soft and pliable.

“how utterly adorable.” unblinking eyes look down at you, truly a feast the way you’re laid down on his expansive dining table like one. an unwavering gaze through long, dark lashes, against impossibly cold skin. “you’re so helpless, spread out like this on my table. you should know you’re also incredibly lucky, sweetness.”

“oh, so very lucky,” he grins, flickering before your eyes, shadows lurking beneath the stolen skin that’s wrapped over weary, ancient bones. those lips of his, curling into a crooked grin. “that i only want to take good care of my little human guest. lucky—” you gasp when his nails, sharper than they were only a second ago, scrape and claw and dig into the most sensitive parts of your quivering body. “—that i’m not some big. bad. monster.”

the simulacrum of a man—his facade falls apart at the seams as he has you coming on fingers and tongues with no solid state; shadows that leave you gasping through the wisps that tickle your sensitive skin, against a hand, the lithe shadowy digits willing (eager, even) to pull you past the brink you’ve been teetering on for the past hour; an act of mercy, that has you twitching in all the right places—and coming, with a long, petulant whine, incredibly and completely undone over the palms of his cold, cold hands.

“yes; you’re quite lucky,” he hums pleasantly, when the cold shadows curl against your ankles only mere minutes later, to pull them over his broad shoulders; now solid, like the sharp, greedy teeth that sink into the swell of your chest. his eyes flicker to meet yours, as he bites down. “that i love you.”

†

hours later, when you make to leave, thanking him profusely for his generosity, for allowing you a safe place to stay and… taking such good care of you; a lost traveller, in more ways than one; you fail to notice something important.

it comes as no surprise to your host, of course. you’re too soft to be left to your own devices. too sweet and darling.

it doesn’t dawn on you that your shadow is missing.

even as the sun sets, casting you in its dying glow, there is no trace of the shape of your constant silhouette that should be projected onto the forest floor. no mark of your existence, against the marvellous red sunset.

instead, your shadow is entirely separate. no longer attached to you, it follows behind instead, curling around the thick trunks of trees and slinking across the mossy forest floor; following close behind you, stepping right into every step you take, but never quite passing by; and when you find yourself lost, inevitably, it will return back to the crumbling manor you were in only hours before.

it will phase right through the main grand doors and the walls with their old, cracked paint; right besides the being who ordered it to follow you in the first place. a pleased smile on familiar lips, when he’s told the news, rejoicing in the act of ignorance; like he didn’t already know your exact whereabouts in his own domain, “oh, is my little human lost again?”

“very well,” he’ll make a show of sighing, though there is no attempt to mask the glee in his gleaming eyes. “i suppose i’ll have to find them, again. hm, it looks like i shouldn’t have let my pretty songbird fly away so soon.”

rest assured, he doesn’t intend to make the same mistake twice.

he’ll pull on a coat, then. not because he needs it, but because he’ll drape it over your shaking shoulders when he stumbles upon you, once again, ‘completely by chance.’ sweet, helpless thing like you, clinging to him in the darkness of the forest.

he descends the steps of his crumbling manor, shadows parting with every step he takes, a darkness swirling restlessly underneath cold, taut skin. he whistles a merry tune, itching to get all of his hands and tongues all over you again; driven by an insatiable hunger.

and this time, when he finds you (and he will; for there is no way you can outrun your own shadow) he intends to have his fill.

he will gorge himself, like a man long starved, on the feast that you are. oh, you’ll be dribbling down his chin and smeared all over his jaw as he works to drink you dry, and he’ll lick up every last drop. this time, the abyss doesn’t intend to let you go. you will stare into the yawning darkness and lose yourself, just as he has lost himself in you.

humans are often told not to play with their food, he recalls—

—it is a lovely thing, then, he supposes, that he was never human.

[giuseppe-yuki]

Since franco is quite unhinged and not PR trained, I feel like his girlfriend would be equally as unhinged and unpredictable like an orange cat constantly doing stupid things like climbing on stupid things and doing funny stuff around the paddock and becoming a fan favourite duo of unpredictable and hilarious behaviour - especially in the fan zone

FRANCO’S POOR PR MANAGER!!!!!

picture credits from pinterest :)

franco colapinto x orange cat shapeshifter!reader

“franco,” the disheveled looking woman snaps, a look of pure annoyance on her face. “tell your fucking cat to get down from those spare tires right now!

rolling his eyes, franco stops his laughter from looking at you prancing on tires and beckons you over.

leaping off the tower of rubber tires, you scamper over to his side, butting your head playfully against his leg. you couldn’t understand why you couldn’t have a little fun in the paddock though. it was media day, and those were soooo boring. his pr manager was a total killjoy. and besides, the fans loved you, so wouldn’t that be good for your boyfriend’s public image?

as if proving your point, the fans gathered around the fanzone squeal as you pad next to franco and his disgruntled pr manager.

while he stops momentarily to sign a few pieces of merch, you claw your way up his shoulder. the man getting his merch signed laughs, pointing his camera at your purring figure perched on franco.

“yeah, sorry, she does that sometimes,” you boyfriend remarks, recapping the pen and handing it back to the fan.

you grin at him, flashing your sharp cat canines at the camera. suddenly, an epic thought crosses your mind. what if you did a backflip off of franco’s shoulder and landed on the ground perfectly? that would be kind of cool.

gathering your wits, you leap off of your boyfriend and do two flips in the air before landing gently on your four paws. the fans in the fanzone erupt into cheers.

“ha!” your boyfriend laughs, pointing at you proudly leaping in circles on the ground. “simone biles who? make way for next big olympic gymnast!”

seeing the commotion, franco’s pr manager speeds over. “franco!” she hisses, dragging him away from the crowd. “you can not be saying that! we don’t want a bad public image from you slandering simone biles!”

“slandering???” franco says, in shock. “i was not slandering. i was merely making a comparison between her and my extraordinarily talented cat!”

you meow loudly, as if backing him up.

franco’s pr manager just pinches her nose and groans.

it’s not even ten minutes before you accidentally get yourself into trouble again.

a young fan sits on the sidewalk, talking animatedly to his mother, leaving his lunch open and inviting. hey, if he didn't want it, you’d gladly take it. you were pretty much starving after spending a good part of the day doing media duties with franco.

charging towards the open container, you take a huge bite of the contents, which turns out to be lasagna.

the boy turns around, eyes wide at seeing not only the orange cat eating his food, but also at franco colapinto jogging towards him.

“i-i-is this your cat?” he stutters out, blinking quickly at the sight in front of him, disbelieving.

“er, yes,” franco responds. scooting by the kid, he bends down and grabs you by the scruff of your neck, trying his best to separate you from the container of lasagna that you were trying your best to shove into your mouth at an ungodly speed.

the boy, seeing your actions, laughs. “she’s just like garfield!”

your boyfriend only successfully removes you from the container after you’ve devoured the entire piece of lasagna. “sorry buddy,” he says to the kid sheepishly, with your tomato-sauce covered body dangling from one hand. “i’ll give you a piece of merch to make up for the lasagna.”

still manhandling you with one hand, he uncaps a sharpie with his teeth and scribbles his signature on his own williams-branded jacket. he shrugs it off with a bit of difficulty before dumping it in the kid’s arms. the small fan ecstatically beams at franco, and thanks him profusely.

when your boyfriend squeezes by the crowd of people that were gathered to see the scene play out, he finds his pr manager standing with her arms crossed with a rather disappointed look on her face.

“did you even think before doing whatever that was?” she questions franco, simultaneously glaring at you.

when you give her a hiss of annoyance at reprimanding your boyfriend, she just about snaps.

“yeah, you’re done,” she say irritatedly. “franco, take yourself and your cat back into your driver’s room. you're grounded. both of you are prohibited from coming out for the next hour.”

you giggle inside. that’s a win for you, honestly. an hour with just yourself and franco? sounds like a great time to get into a little more mischief!

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

hiii! can i get a #47 (I thought it was a one-night-stand...and now we’re married…) with Quinn?

I am so sorry this took me like a week to answer. But yes of course I love writing little blurbs for Quinn. Also another person requested this prompt with Quinn but wanted smut, so I hope you don't mind I put them together.

Drabble Challenge Drabble Masterlist

"I thought it was a one-night-stand... and now we're married...."

Quinn couldn't keep his eyes off of you since he saw you take your first step down the aisle. Now with you across the room from him at the reception he's having a hard time focusing on what Jack and his dad is talking about too focused on watching you across the room talking to a family member. He watches you smile and laugh as you listen to one of your aunties stories. All he can think about is that now your his wife and you have his name and for some reason that makes him feel warm inside. Then he glances down your backside, and sees how your dress hugs your curves in all the right places and now all he wants to do is steal you away and consummation the marriage. Not even giving his dad or brother an excuse he leaves them and heads to you with one goal in mind. Finally reaching you, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you towards him so that your back is against his chest. He says "excuse me ladies, but can I steal my wife for a dance." As soon as your aunt nods her head, he grabs your hand and starts pulling you against towards the dance floor, but he makes a sharp left towards the hallway with the bathrooms.

"wait I thought you wanted to dance Q?" you ask curious as to where he's taking you.

"we will. but after." he speaks soft against your ear kissing right below it before he continues to guide you down the hallway. It seems like he finally got what he was looking for when he stopped at a storage closest smiling when he realized it was unlocked. Pulling you in and closing the door, he quickly closed and locked the door behind him. He kissed you abruptly, as if he was scared he was going to run out of time. Pulling away slightly to catch your breath you whine his name, as his hands that are your neck try to close the gap of space between you again. His teeth gently nip at your bottom lip causing you to gasp in surprise allowing him to slip his tongue in your mouth taking complete control of the kiss.

His hands leave your neck moving down to your hips pulling you closer to him even through the layers of your fabric from your wedding dress you can still feel his hard cock forming causing you to gasp at the same time he says "please." in a soft voice.

"hmm" you respond still in a daze from the kiss. Going down to suck gently on your sweet spot on your neck he speaks again. "Please baby." moving a little lower on your neck and softly kissing. "You look so beautiful and sexy in your dress." Now gently sucking on where your neck and shoulder meet gently biting you can't help the moan that escapes as he continues to plead. "I can't wait till were back at the hotel and we can't really leave our own wedding early." Now kissing gently on the only part of your chest exposed in your sweetheart cut grown. "Please."

All you can do is laugh. "Quinn. How are you gonna fuck me in this dress, I can't even pee without a bridemaid helping me."

"Is that a challenge?" he asks in a cheeky tone.

"Maybe.." you smirk at him. In a flash, his lips are on your again and his hands pull the bottom of your dress trying to get to your pussy as fast as humanly possible. Finally giving up and getting on his knees, he goes under your dress, you lean back against the shelvin for support as you feel Quinn swipe his tongue teasingly over your underwear.

"hmmm. please. Q" you beg.

"Fuck I love when you beg. God your so fucking wet, who makes you this wet?" he asks his fingers moved your underwear aside, sliping his fingers into your pussy, slowly pumping them in and out.

"ahh you" he starts pumping a little faster and sucking gently on your clit then you get an idea. "my husband." immediately his fingers stop and you whine because your idea back fired you hear him mumble a string of curse words under his breath. He takes his fingers out of your pussy and you whine at the loss of contact. "shhh baby, hold on. turn around." He demands as he comes back to you and lifts your dress up. From behind you can hear him undoing his belt buckle.

"shit." he mumbles sounding annoyed.

"what?" you ask.

"I don't have a condom."

"I don't care Quinn were married if I get pregnant I get pregnant." as you push your butt towards him. That's all it takes for Quinn to gently push himself into your core, both of you sighing at the feeling. Quinn gives you a couple of seconds to adjust to be full before he starts rolling his hips slowly.

"Faster." you beg He picks up the pace slamming into you, hititng your g-spot with every thrust.

"Oh yeah, am I not being good enough, god your such a fucking slut." grabbing your neck and squeezing it, you close your eyes and moan at the feeling. "Only you would beg for more as I'm already fucking you." he bites out. All you could focus on was the feeling of entire body tightening.

"ahh Quinn I'm close." you pant out.

"no not Quinn. What's my name?" he asks squeezing a little tighter on your throat.

"hu- husband." you moan and with that Quinn quickens his pace, both of you cuming shortly after. Quinn stays inside of you for a minute catching his breath his head resting on your shoulder.

Gently kissing the side of your neck he whispers, "you did so good baby. you okay?" he asks and your heart swells at how kind Quinn is always espically when it comes to aftercare always making sure he didn't cross some limit and hurt you. All you can do as you feel this overwhelming feeling of love you have for Quinn is chuckle to yourself. "what baby?" he asks a mix of confusion and concern.

"It's that when I met you I thought it would a one night stand." you admit both of you chuckling now at the realization. "and now I'm standing here in a wedding dress."

"and were married." Quinn finishes your thought for you. "I'm really glad you gave me your number that night." Softly kissing your neck.

"me too."

[obsessedwhyyes]

Beneath the Blood and Starlight

Summary: Awoken from a nightmare, you seek a moment of reprieve down by the river, only to find your mysterious vampire companion - covered in blood. As you help him with his mess, you realise that perhaps there's more to his rakish, teasing façade: a vulnerability that you had not anticipated. A moment of intimacy ensues.

Rating: T Word Count: 3096 Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Content: Act 1, pre-romance, fluff, early bonding, non-sexual intimacy, flirting, feral cat Astarion. Warning: Starts with a nightmare sequence featuring depictions of ceremorphosis, in case that's an issue.

A/N: What was meant to be a cute, fluffy little drabble grew arms and legs and turned into several thousand words. I wanted to explore some non-sexual intimacy, in the context of Act 1 where everyone is still learning about each other, so here we have some typical Act 1 Astarion flirting, some banter, and some exploration of Astarion - the person, rather than the vampire spawn.

It was a night like any other.

The campfire warmed the faces of the merry band of travelling companions you had accrued throughout the course of your journey. The strangest bedfellows one could ever imagine, but amidst the chaos of your journey up to now, the sound of laughter was a joyous reprieve; a rare moment of peace.

Your gaze was drawn inexorably to Astarion who sat across from you. Firelight danced across his pale skin as you watched him, and he caught your eye then. A mischievous smile played at the corners of his mouth and your heart fluttered, just a little.

“Darling,” he purred, raising a finger to point to you, “you’re bleeding.”

You were?

Your hand reached for your face, feeling a slickness trickling from your nose. Strange. You hadn’t noticed any pain.

Suddenly, the firelight seemed too bright, the laughter too loud.

Something was wrong.

You opened your mouth to speak, but your body was wracked instead with a fit of coughs. You could not breathe.

You doubled over, and an ache spread throughout your jaw - a pain unlike anything you had ever experienced. Your innards felt ready to burst out of you.

“Are you alright?” Astarion’s voice was tinged with an uncharacteristic concern. Moving quickly to your side, his cool hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. But as your eyes met his, you recoiled in horror.

A mindflayer.

Where Astarion’s once beautiful face had been, you were greeted with orange eyes, burning with malice, sharp teeth like cut glass within a tentacled maw, and slickened, wet skin. Yet, his voice remained the same, teasing and rakish - a jarring contrast that set your heart pounding, limbs begging you to flee.

You tried to scream, but your jaw felt wrong. It cracked, a sickening sound that reverberated through your skull. The pain was excruciating, blinding. Something writhing and slick attempted to push its way out of your throat and you choked.

Astarion-Not-Astarion’s hand, still cool against your feverish skin, stroked your cheek almost tenderly. “That’s it,” he cooed, his voice a twisted parody of his usual flirtatious drawls, “embrace the change.”

You looked around wildly. All of your companions had transformed, their familiar faces replaced by disgusting, terrifying… No, beautiful, evolved, magnificent alien features.

“Change,” they chanted. “Change. Change…”

You bolted upright, a strangled gasp escaping your lips. Cold sweat drenched your skin as you wildly scanned your surroundings. The familiar sight of your tent came into focus.

Your heart pounded in your chest as realisation set in. A dream. It was a dream.

It was a night like any other.

And that was precisely the problem.

Sleep, you decided, was no longer an option.

There was a river in the woods nearby and you were in desperate need to cleanse yourself of the sweat which clung to your still shivering body. Or rather, you needed something, anything to distract yourself. And so, packing washcloths, you left the confines of your tent and snuck away into the woodlands.

–

The sound of running water called to you, a moment of solace drawing nearer. Or so you thought, until a familiar figure came into view.

It was Astarion, sitting by the river's edge, moonlight gleaming across his pale… Bare skin.

Assuming you'd stumbled in on something you shouldn't have, you averted your gaze hastily, a blush crawling up your neck. “A-ah, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude!”

“It's just my shirt, darling. No need for such modesty.” Astarion’s voice carried a hint of amusement, clearly privy to your embarrassment.

A moment passed as you attempted to recompose yourself. Looking up, he was indeed just shirtless. 

Thank the gods for that.

As you drew closer to him, you noticed the blood smeared across his face - evidence of a recent hunt.

Truth be told, he was a bit of a mess. Crimson streaks painted his cheeks and chin, with a particularly gruesome splatter across his left temple. Some of it had begun to dry, flaking at the edges. It was a stark, almost beautiful contrast against his pale skin - a reminder of the predator that lurked beneath his charming exterior.

You sat across from him, trying to ignore the way the moonlight played across his bare chest.

His lips curled into a smirk. “Out for a midnight stroll or were you just hoping to catch me in a compromising position?”

You rolled your eyes, though you were grateful for the familiar banter. You tried not to recall the events of your nightmare, the lingering tendrils of which still threatened to send you into a blinding panic. In a way, you were grateful to have stumbled across Astarion on your journey out here. As much as you told yourself otherwise, being alone was perhaps not what you needed right now.

“I just needed some fresh air,” you said, less than eager to give away the finer details of your predicament.

Your gaze fell on a needle and thread beside him, and a hole in his shirt draped across his lap.

“What happened?” You asked, nodding to his shirt, in a hasty attempt to change the subject.

“Ah, this? I was unfortunate enough to get tangled up with a particularly feral boar this evening. The little bastard didn't get very far though.”

Well, you thought to yourself, that explains the blood.

As he picked up the needle and resumed his repairs, long fingers moving with practised ease, you found yourself curious. “I didn't know you could sew.”

“I'm a man of many talents. I'd be happy to give you a… private demonstration, if you like.”

You sighed in mock exasperation. “Isn't it exhausting trying to talk your way into my trousers all the time?”

“Who says I was trying to talk my way into your trousers?” Astarion gleamed.

You fixed him with a doubtful look, eyebrow raised. In response, he reached into his pack which rested behind him, and pulled out a handkerchief, handing it to you. As you unfolded it, you gasped. Delicate florals, intricate patterns adorned the fabric, embroidered with a meticulous care and skill that you would have attributed to the tailors and seamstresses of Baldur's Gate’s Upper City. It was as if he had captured the essence of a moonlit garden, with silvery threads weaving a tapestry of nocturnal blooms and shadowy vines.

“Gods, Astarion. You made this?”

He nodded, a flicker of genuine pride crossing his features.

“It's beautiful,” you breathed as you ran your fingers across the stitches. “What a wonderful talent to have.”

Something shifted in Astarion’s expression - a flash of vulnerability quickly masked. 

“Yes, well, one must find ways to pass the time. Keep it, if you like,” Astarion continues, attempting to feign disinterest. The look in his eyes told a different story.

“Thank you,” you said. You meant it.

A moment of silence passed between you, punctuated by the gentle bubbles and burbles of the river as it flowed.

“I don't think I have any special talents of my own,” you mused, more to yourself than to him.

Astarion glanced up, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh, I'm sure you have some hidden talents. I'd be more than happy to help you explore them, if you like. In my tent, perhaps?”

You raised an eyebrow, holding his gaze.

Astarion grinned, unabashed. “That time, I was trying to talk my way into your trousers.”

You laughed then and gods, did it feel good to laugh on a night like this, even with the familiar feeling of heat rising to your cheeks. This dance between you - this constant push-and-pull - had become almost comforting in its familiarity. Of course, you had considered his offer - he had not exactly been subtle about his intentions with you. But you weren't quite ready to give in. Not yet, anyway.

Your laughter settled, and something in the mood shifted as Astarion turned his gaze from you to the river.

“Truth be told, Cazador didn't give us much beyond the clothes on our backs. I had to learn some things for myself.”

The admission hung heavy in the air. His voice was uncharacteristically soft, despite the venom that laced his voice at his former master’s name. 

“I'm sorry,” you said softly. Once again, you meant it.

He shrugged, forcing a lightness into his tone. “It’s not all bad. Using my hands to create something beautiful - it's a welcome distraction. It lets me feel… well, not good, but less terrible for a while.”

You nodded. You never knew quite what to say in these moments. Astarion had only recently begun to open up to you regarding his past, and each story drew forth a maelstrom of emotions from you. Sadness at the gods-awful role he was thrust into; guilt at not having been there for him sooner; anger, not only at Cazador, but at those who had the opportunity to save him but chose not to, as though his vampiric nature made him less worthy of the safety that all who live, crave. You could only imagine the feelings which raged like a tempest in him.

It was in moments like these that you had to admire just how brave he really was.

You were snapped out of your ruminations when Astarion finished his mending. You caught a glimpse of a sharp, pointed fang as he used it to cut the thread - an action which shouldn't have been as fascinating as it was.

He stood and slipped on his shirt.

“Well?” He asked, with a twirl and a flourish. “What do you think?”

“Perfect as always,” you replied, then paused. “Except for, well, the blood on your face.”

Astarion’s eyes widened in indignation. “And you're only mentioning this now?”

You shrugged, fighting back a grin. “I thought the feral look rather suited you.”

“You absolute freak,” he scoffed, but there was no real heat behind the words.

“I can help if you want.”

As you dug into your pack to procure a washcloth, your intentions clear, Astarion’s reaction was immediate and visceral. He recoiled as if you'd brandished a weapon, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“Absolutely not.”

Pride and uncertainty marred his voice. You recognised the look in his eyes - the same wary glance of a feral cat, torn between the desire for help and the instinct to flee.

“Come on,” you coaxed, keeping your voice soft, even. “It's not like you can look in a mirror.”

You had hoped humour would de-escalate the situation.

It did not.

For a moment, anger flashed in his eyes - a cornered predator lashing out. But as he met your gaze, something in his expression shifted. The fury melted to uncertainty, then a flicker of longing so brief you almost missed it.

Astarion’s body language was a mess of contradictions. He leaned slightly towards you, as if drawn by an invisible thread, only to catch himself and pull back. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, but the words lacked his usual bite. “I don't need– I mean, I'm perfectly capable of–”

“If you don't need my help, that's okay. We don't have to do this if you don't want to.”

Astarion’s eyes darted between your face and the cloth, held loosely in your hand. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again.

“Why?” He asked.

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. Why are you helping me? Why care?

“Because I want to,” you answered simply.

Something in Astarion’s expression cracked then, a hairline fracture in his carefully constructed façade. He gave a jerky nod, not quite meeting your eyes.

“Well,” he said, his tone aiming for nonchalance but missing by a mile, “if you insist on playing nursemaid, who am I to stop you? Though I warn you, darling, caring for me can be a dangerous pastime.”

The words were pure Astarion - flirtatious, guarded, with a hint of threat. The words weren't quite acceptance, but they were close enough.

“I'll take my chances,” you teased softly, patting the ground beside you, prompting him to sit.

He complied with an obvious reluctance, perching on the edge of the riverbank as if the ground might swallow him whole.

As you wetted your washcloth in the river and moved closer to him - close enough to feel his cool breath on your skin - you notice him tense at the anticipation of your touch. His eyes were squeezed shut, face turned slightly away from you. But you were gentle as you placed the cloth to his cheek and began to wipe away the streaks of crimson from his face.

The sounds of the world around you dulled, faded to a murmur as you tended to him, as though the leaves had stilled their rustling and the river its gurgling. In this moment of suspended reality, your focus narrowed to Astarion’s face and the myriad of emotions playing across it.

His hesitation, his vulnerability - it struck you how monumental this simple act truly was. Here was a man - a vampire - who had known centuries of cruelty; who had learned to weaponise his charm and keep the world at arm’s length for his safety. And yet, he was allowing you to see him like this: uncertain, teetering at the edge of trust.

The weight of his concession settled over you like a blanket. Each micro-expression that flickered across his features told a story of internal struggle - the tightening of his jaw, the slight furrow of his brow, the way his eyes squeezed shut as if bracing for pain that wouldn't come. It was a dance of contradictions; a battle between ingrained distrust and a longing for gentleness.

In this frozen moment, you realised that what you were offering wasn't just a clean face. It was acceptance, care, a touch unburdened by expectation or demand. And for Astarion, perhaps accepting it was an act of bravery greater than any he'd shown in battle.

With careful strokes, you cleaned the blood away from his cheek. You worked slowly, mindful of the tension in his jaw. Gradually, almost imperceptibly, he began to relax under your ministrations.

“Turn your head for me?” You asked, softly.

Astarion complied without a word, tilting his face to give you access to the other cheek. His eyes remained closed, but the furrow in his brow had softened.

You resumed your task, gently working your way across his features. A stubborn smear of dried blood at the corner of his mouth, another at the hollows of his cheekbones, droplets that had spattered at his forehead - all melted away before your eyes with each glide of the wet cloth, unveiling his pale skin.

As you worked, you found yourself studying him in a way you never had before. His elven features were a study in contrasts - ethereal beauty intertwined with the weathering of time and hardship. High cheekbones caught the moonlight, throwing delicate shadows across his face. His skin, where it wasn't marred by blood, was like polished alabaster, smooth and luminous.

As you gently moved to cleanse his temple, your fingertips brushed against a strand of his hair - silk curls spun from starlight.

Yet it was the imperfections that truly drew you in. Fine lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes, like a map of laughter and sorrow etched by the years. His brow, while regal, bore the weight of exhaustion, a testament to the burdens he carried.

There was something mesmerising in the juxtaposition - this timeless, otherworldly beauty marked by the unmistakable signs of an unlife born of hardships and losses yet unspoken between you. But each line, each weary shadow, only served to enhance a grace that time and pain could never fully erase.

Your hand paused, cloth hovering near his cheek, as you realised you'd been lost in studying him. In that moment, beneath the moon’s gentle gaze and the river’s whispered song, you saw not just the elf; the vampire; the mysterious travelling companion, but the man - beautiful, vulnerable, and utterly captivating.

Astarion’s eyes fluttered open, catching you in your reverie. For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. The air between you was filled with unspoken words and possibilities. 

It was… intimate.

“See something you like, darling?” Astarion’s voice was soft, lacking its usual sharp edge of sarcasm. There was a vulnerability in his gaze that made your breath catch.

You smiled softly, resuming your gentle ministrations.

“Just making sure I didn't miss any spots.”

You weren't quite ready to voice the thoughts swirling in your mind.

A comfortable silence settled between you, broken only by rippling sounds of water as you periodically dipped your washcloth in the river to wring it out.

As you shifted to clean the last traces of blood, you finally looked up again to meet Astarion’s gaze fully.

“There,” you said, “I knew there was a handsome man somewhere under all that filth.”

Astarion’s lips quirked into a smile - not his usual smirk, but something softer.

“Well, I suppose I should thank you for your… attentions,” he murmured.

The moment stretched between you, fragile and charged with possibility. For a heartbeat, you thought he might lean in; might close the distance between you. But the moment passed, leaving behind a mix of relief and something that felt dangerously close to disappointment.

You cleared your throat, breaking the spell.

“We should probably head back to camp,” you suggested, your voice steadier than you felt.

Astarion nodded, rising to his feet with his usual grace. As you gathered your things, you felt his eyes on you, thoughtful and considering.

“You know,” he said as you started back through the woods, “I think you might have one hidden talent.”

You glanced back at him, raising an eyebrow in question.

His smile was enigmatic, tinged with something you couldn't quite name.

“You have a remarkable ability to surprise me. And that… that is no small feat.”

As you made your way back to camp, the weight of your nightmare felt lighter. And if you walked a little closer to Astarion than strictly necessary, well, that was just to avoid tripping in the dark. Nothing more.

It was a night like any other and yet, as you settled back into your bedroll, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between you and Astarion. A new understanding, perhaps, or the first trembling notes of a melody yet to be fully composed. Whatever it was, it sang you to sleep, keeping the nightmares at bay just this once.

No Pressure Tag List: @roguishcat @silverfangmarks @sparrowbard

[itachiiwrites]

Hands on your knees, I'm Angelina Jolie ♡

CULT LEADER!SUGURU GETO X READER ♡

Warnings and Content: 18+, MDNI, p in v sex, mirror sex, backshots, fingering, clit play, creampie, husband suguru, suguru being very hot, female reader, porn with almost no plot (sorry), terms of endearment (angel, pretty girl), degradation, slapping, spanking, he's also gentle, he is in love, you are too, mentions of exhibitionism.

Plot: Showing off your new lingerie set to your husband was your job, it's not fault that he's a very busy man..

Suguru peppered soft kisses onto the back of your neck, his large hands tantalizingly settled onto the seam of your ass, the other settled onto your sternum, motioning tenderly to take your pert nipples between his calloused fingers.

He kept your figure propped up with delicacy, both your bodies on the knees, sinked on the plush mattress of his bed. His foxy eyes gazing into yours through the tall mirror in front of you both. It was your fault, getting him all riled up on text by giving your husband terribly raunchy depictions of your new lacey set, that was now in tatters on the mahogany floor. While he was negotiating with the benefactors of the association.

"Who could tell..? The fake Buddhist monk's wife is such a vixen.." He chuckled sardonically, jabbing a subtle insult. To which you giggled, turning your head to look at him. "It's fine cause you're a fake monk anyway.."

He arched his brow at your sharp reply small amused smile lacing his own lips, which didn't stop him from instantly gripping your face when it lolled up to the look at him, pinning it up in his palm to keep your eyes on the visual in the mirror of his body behind yours, deliciously finger fucking you. "I told you to keep your head up sweetheart..look in the mirror..always such a smartass.." He rustled against your cheek, giving a prompt, light slap on your cheek to your bratty reply.

"Yeah..Sugu.." You moaned dulcely with a grin, his name sliding past your lips so obscenely that it would put a pornstar to shame.

Suguru let out a satisfied hum at the sounds you made, pulling his crinkled fingers from your wetness then settling onto your cute clit. The slight roughened pads of his fingers from years of exorcising curses felt so perfect drawing methodical eights against your nub that was erectly poking out from your arousal. "Oh-ho..? You're fucking drenched, you liking getting slapped, slut..?"

Your pretty eyes almost fluttered at the vulgarity that slipped passed his lips, you could feel the soft rumming of his chest against your back as he spoke to you in his sultry voice.

"What..? Didn't hear you, what happened to that smart mouth of yours..? Huh..?" He gritted his teeth, his digits ruthlessly rubbing your slippery pussy, the plopping sound clearly audible. He grunted, groping the flesh of your ass handfully before letting his palm impact on it with a rough smack, pushing you down on the mattress so your ass was in the air for him, making you yelp.

Grabbing fistful of your hair, he lifted you up as he teased the bulbous head of his fat cock on your entrance, stretching it open with just the tip which made you whimper. "Oh..put it in..want your cock so badly.." You whispered, desperately wanting to feel him deep within you. You cambered your head to your shoulder slightly to look at him.

"Fucking look in the mirror or else I'm leaving your slutty pussy here like this all night along.." He warned, slapping your face again, this time collision being a little harder, which made you naturally look at the pornographic sight in front of you.

His sculpted body positioned behind you, his eyes half lidded and the onyx bangs framing his handsome face beautifully, it made your cunt flutter around him. The moment he rammed into you with a soft moan, your eyes blew wide at the sudden stretch, making you grip the sheets tighter.

You could feel his balls deliciously smacking against your clit, while the bed creaked softly because of his fast, plummeting thrusts, cooes and blabbers of how you wanted him harder leaving past your lips.

"Yeah..my pretty wife wants it harder hm..? Take it, take it all..fuck!" And he gave you harder. It felt incredible, his each inch. Even as your limbs quivered and trembled as your walls gripped him like a vice when you came.

Suguru was addicted to the sight, the way you were braced up for him in all fours, your fucked out, flushed face only made his cock harder. He leaned in, pressing his body onto your back, holding you down with his weight as he moved his hips in a sensual rotation, kissing the depths of your sweet cunt with his tip each time. The sinful thoughts of claiming you like this in front of his cult crossed his mind. Although tempting, the thougts of defiling you like that in front of filthy monkeys, a sight that was only for him to see definitely made him jealous, furious even.

"Tell me you love me..pretty girl, say it..gonna cum in you.." He purred in your ear wanting the affirmation of your devotion to him, your hands now on the either side of your head, his fingers entwined with yours, his lips and teeth grazing against your skin to paint his purpled kisses on your neck.

"I..love you..cum in me Suguru..fill me up.."

And your syrupy voice sent a spark down his spine as he pounded into you harder, albeit sloppily as he moved closer to his climax. He let out a series of husky moans, cumming hot, white, thick ropes into your pussy, continuing to fuck you as milky rings of your mixed releases accumulated on his base. "Fuck..I love you angel.."

He let out strong huffs as he collapsed on top of you, planting wet kisses on the side of your cheek and back. The heinous thought crossing his head again after the declaration of his love.

"...What do you think about fucking in front of cult..?" He mumbled, gazing into your eyes with an impish look at you knew too well after he turned you around, his body still intimately pressed against yours, like a husband's should to his wife after making love. Keeping his softened dick inside you. He brought your hand closer, his warmth breath tickling your skin at the loving gesture of him kissing your ring finger.

"No."

©𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐢𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬

Plagiarism not authorised. Please consider liking and reblogging if you liked the content. :)

More on m.list!

[chestersturniolo]

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

~ fwb!chris ~

warnings; bisexual!reader , suggestive, v brief mentions of alcohol/drugs.

~~~~

The party was in full swing, music blasting, solo cups scattered on every surface, a mixure of alcohol, weed, and sweat filled the whole house.

You didn’t expect to see him tonight , but there he was. Chris. Sitting on the couch , legs wide in that typical man spread of his. The dim light making his sharp features stand out even more. His eyes were fixed on something. Curiosity got the better of you as you follow his gaze to see it’s not something. But someone.

A girl you recognised from a few of your classes, dancing in the middle of the living room, her body swaying to the music. He was clearly checking her out. A flicker of something crossed your chest. Not quite jealousy. But close. Then again, it’s not like you and chris had a label, which he loved to remind you. Casual. No strings. Nothing serious.

Little did chris know, that girl was more than an acquaintance to you, having multiple classes together, being put together on assignments, you’d started to grow a small friendly bond. Enough for you to walk up to her at a party without hesitation at least.

You decided to play a little game. See, chris knew you were bisexual. You smirked to yourself as the idea formed, the alcohol buzzing in your system making it even more fun.

Without so much as a glance in chris’ direction, you slip into his eyeline and sauntered over to her. She noticed you and grinned, “Hey girl!-” you say, leaning in close so she could hear you over the music.

“-you up for making a guy jealous with me?”

she raised an eyebrow, intrigued, before letting out a laugh “Hell yes, let’s do it!”

You could feel chris’ eyes burning into your back as you moved closer to her, both of you starting to dance. Bodies swaying in sync, hands grazing,hips pressing. It didn’t take long before you both were full on grinding against eachother. The heat between you drawing more than just chris’ attention. The music pulsed, perfectly matching the rhythm of your teasing performance.

Chris watched in awe, his hooded eyes dark and intense, lips parted as his jaw hung ever so slightly. You caught glimpses of him in your peripheral, gripping the arm of the couch, taking a swig of his beer ,watching as you pulled the girl closer, your fingers trailing her waist.

Without breaking the rhythm, you moved her so her back faced chris, giving you a perfect view of him over her shoulder. Then, as you let your eyes finally lock with his, you went for it. Slowly , deliberately, you leaned in and kissed her. The make out was hot and passionate, both of your craned necks allowing you to keep eye contact with chris, giving him the most lustful, teasing eyes you possibly could.

His reaction was instant, his tongue running along his teeth before clenching his jaw. Slowly shaking his head with the smallest smirk as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He shifted in his seat , his eyes blazing with something that looked like both frustration and desire. That’s when it hit him. You’d known he was watching all along.

You broke the kiss and looked at the girl with a playful grin. “Wanna check out upstairs? it’ll totally look like we’re hooking up” you suggest, the mischief evident in your voice. “Best idea ever” she giggled.

You waste no time grabbing her hand, and together you made your way through the crowd, Chris’ eyes following every step. He watched in disbelief as you lead her to the stairs, torn between being pissed off and unbelievably turned on at the sight.

~

Upstairs , you and the girl wondered around, giggling as you peeked into random rooms, nosing around. Clearly finding your little game hilarious.

When you finally decided to head back down, you noticed chris right away, standing near ish to the bottom of the stairs, stood talking with one of his friends, but clearly waiting for you. A smirk spread across your face. You had him exactly where you wanted him.

As you descended the stairs, his gaze stayed locked on you, his attempt to act nonchalant failing miserably. You reached the bottom, still avoiding looking at him, you made sure to tug your skirt down a little, smoothing your hair as if you had just come from something a little more…intimate.

You turned to the girl , planting a quick kiss on her cheek. “Thanks girl” you whispered in her ear , pulling back with a wink. She laughed, winking back before disappearing into the crowd.

Still, you didn’t acknowledge chris, not directly anyway. You walked right past him, feeling his eyes piercing through you as you made your way to the kitchen island.

it was full of solo cups and half-empty bottles, but you went straight for the punch bowl, ladling the bright blue mystery liquid into your cup.

It didn’t take long before you felt a presence right behind you, you knew straight away. Chris.

He stood close, like he was barely holding himself back. The heat from his body radiating towards you as the air between you thickened with tension. You didn’t turn around, not giving him the satisfaction of your attention just yet.

Chris got impatient, as he stepped forward. You felt his body press against your back, now sandwiched between him and the kitchen island. Your breath hitched slightly at the contact.

He reached, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear before leaning down, his warm breath dancing on your neck as he spoke into your ear , “Having fun?”

You took a slow sip from your cup, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Oh, i’m having a blast” you replied in a teasing voice.

Chris backs up, allowing you enough room to turn around, as you shuffle in your spot to face him, a smug look still plastered on your face.

“You think you’re funny , don’t you?”

You raised an eyebrow, “i don’t know what you’re talking about” you say innocently.

He let out a low chuckle, although he wasn’t amused. He stepped forward once again,his hands snaking past either side of you, gripping the counter behind, caging you in.

“You know exactly what i’m talking about-“ he muttered,his eyes flicking down to your lips and back up again, “-fucking girls without me?”

You click your tongue “Ohhhh, that”

Chris’ stare is dangerous, he scoffs “Yes.that.”

“Aw what’s the matter baby? Jealous?” you coo in fake sympathy. Jutting your bottom lip out slightly for effect.

Chris hands quickly find your waist, pulling you close,slamming your body into his, he hangs his head in the crook of your neck, the tip of his nose tickling your skin. You shudder at the whisper of contact as your heart rate quickens.

He starts littering hungry kisses all over your neck as you let your eyes flutter shut, instinctually craning your neck to give him more access. He leans to your ear “I’ve waited long enough for my turn don’t y’think?” he whispers, before pulling away with a lick of his lips and ravenous eyes, as he grips your wrist, pulling you back upstairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n; loooooved writing this i hope you enjoyedd!!! (also who peeped the ✨mystery liquid✨ reference? i had to do it lmao)

- 𝑺𝒂𝒈𝒆 ♡

MASTERLIST

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[blimpintime]

a jar of wind

Wynnie Lara is a fairy that was saved from a jar from Amarantha's reign of terror, but is soon figuring out that her time of peace is coming to a end.

warnings: angst, azriel sucks :p and unedited

word count: 1.4k

eventual Eris x OC

“Rhys! You will never believe what I managed to do with my-” I bursted into the kitchen with a warm glow, my green dress flowing around me and headed towards where he was sitting with a cup of tea.

“Wynn, I have been up with Nyx for the past three nights and days with him teething. I would love some silence. Please.” He said with a low voice and eyes closed in annoyance. 

“Oh! Right, yes. Sorry.” I wince, I twirl my finger and use the wind to brush through the mellow sounding wind chimes I have placed around the River House. 

The tension seemed to leave his body, and I placed a sisterly kiss on the top of his head, my ginger bobbed hair layering over his black hair. In doing so I managed to remove the growing headache from him and take it on for myself.

“I didn’t ask you to do that, Wynn.” He said softly.

“I know, but that’s what family is for Rhys.” I respond with a light touch on his shoulder and whisper words of encouragement as I leave. 

As I walked out of the River House where the sun is setting, I ran into Azriel and Cassian. I smile and my subtle pink glow brightens.

“Hello you two!” I say with a wave and notice the grimm look on their body language and my face falls and my glow dims. “What happened, who's hurt?” 

Cassian winces and Azriel gives me a sharp look, “Stay out of it Wynn. You do enough damage as is.” 

I flinch back and the wind around me goes cold, “What is that supposed to mean?” 

He walks closer to me and leans over to get in my face, “It means that whatever magical experiment you tried this time back fired and hurt Elain.”

“What are you talking about?” I whisper back. My mind reels trying to remember if I left a magic trial unattended in the open, but I draw a blank. Unless… 

“She snuck into my cottage?” I question brows furrowing. There was only one trial I left at my house and that was my attempt of getting my wind to play instruments on its own, but wind is finicky and if interrupted incorrectly can cause a spiral of sharp and messy wind.

“Snuck? Wynn, you let everyone into your home all the time, there was no reason to lock your doors.” Cassian responded. I go hot with anger. 

“So just because I host all the time means my house is fair game? There are wards around it for a reason when I am not home. If that is your logic here then allow me to go into your guys home whenever I feel and do what I please.” I snap back.

“You’re being unreasonable Wynn.” Azriel says while rolling his eyes. “It was just Elain. She is harmless.” 

“I do not care who it was Azriel, it is my home. What did she need from me anyway? I just saw her this morning.” I ask him and he storms by me to go inside the house. Cassian and I follow him.

“Rhysand!” Azriel yells. Rhys walks out of the kitchen looking a little better than he did before. 

“Why are we yelling?” He asks.

“Wynn has caused more damage to this court.” Azriel says and I wince back. Rhys turns to look at me with an eyebrow raised. 

I raise my hands in defense.

“Wynn, was it another silly experiment?” Rhys asks. My heart tugs and I nod, and I feel as though I should defend myself. They’re not silly, they are fun.

“Did I do something to personally offend you Azriel?” I ask softly. 

“Yes! Since you’ve shown up to this court all you have done have been attached to the hip with Feyre, surprised she hasn’t told you that you are suffocating. You’re nothing more than an annoying weed.” He spat, “You buzz in and out loudly all the time, you cannot read a room to save your life, your experiments are juvenile and lack actual use, and whenever you shrink down to your pixie form is the only time you're tolerable because we can barely hear you.” He said like a weight has been lifted off his chest. 

I can only stare at him, shock and hurt cover my face. The glow of pink on my body fades down to a low humming blue, and suddenly I am back in that damn jar. 

The jar I am in is hot and stuffy. I do not remember how I got here but I do understand that this is cursed glass and I won’t be able to be let out unless the lid is opened by the one who placed the curse or is killed. 

The jar sits in the middle of a long dinner table as decor, with being alive I always have a glow to me. When I am neutral and healthy it's normally pinkish orange, right now it’s bluish purple relating to my mood and terror. It hasn’t changed in the past decade of being here.

Being small and trapped in a jar and treated as entertainment by those who are desperate to feel power again is something I would never wish upon anybody. They like to cover the oxygen holes on the top and force me to dance or create wind art. Which is borderline impossible with the lack of airflow in here anyway.

“Tell me pretty, what other colors can you turn?”

“Az-” Cassian whispered.

“Fuck you Azriel. You know why I don’t go into that size very often and you of all people should understand why.” I spit at him, and he for just a moment looks guilty. 

“What? You all say this behind her back anyway. Now that I tell her to her face it’s a problem?” He looks at his two brothers. And they both won’t look me in the eye.

“Is that true?” I choke out with silent tears running down my face. Rhys looks at me and takes a breath, “There could have been more tact to how we said this but to put it bluntly yes.”

My wispy iridescent wings pop out of my back. And I start walking backwards towards the door, “I will see myself out then.” 

“Wynn, wait please let's discuss this more maturely.” Rhys says. Azriel scoffs in the background. 

“If it wasn’t for her, Elain wouldn’t be hurt again.” I flinch again feeling sick to my stomach. 

“I am sorry.” I choke out. Cassian reaches for me and I step back curling into myself feeling betrayed by those I called family. 

“No, that was completely uncalled for.” A new voice responds. I turn around to say Nesta and Elain. I look over Elain and all I notice is a few wind burns on her arms. She gives me a soft smile and I look down with a frown.

“Azriel, what is the actual problem here? Because I am fine. I went into her cottage because I forgot my tea recipe book there and completely forgot she was running an experiment.” Elain comes up to me softly and puts her hand on my shoulder. I lean into her warmth. Nesta stares at him with a cold hard glare. 

“He’s jealous.” She observes. Azriel looks shocked for just a moment before he stalks closer into Nesta’s face. To which signals me and Elain to step back and Cassian to intervene. 

“Enough.” Rhys says rubbing his temples again. “Azriel you were out of line with the way you approached this situation and Wynn maybe just be a little less, you.” 

All three girls flinch with the wording. 

“Have you lost your fucking mind Rhysand?” Nesta barks. “Wait until I tell Feyre.” 

By the time the two of them are arguing I shrink down to my pixie size and fly home to my cottage. I arrive at the front stoop back to normal size, and burst into tears against my front door barely making it inside before I collapse into a pile on the floor. 

In a panic I start shoving some of my emergency belongings in a satchel; clothes, my hygiene products, and my magic trials notebook. 

Frantically rushing around my small cottage I see a teacup Elain painted for me, with little orange and pink flowers all over it. I wrap it in one of my shirts and stuff it into my satchel.

By now the sun has completely set, and I take off my porch, my holographic wings sparkling in the moonlight and head towards some place I know will bring me some comfort. 

The Autumn Court. 

a/n: please enjoy! I have been thinking about this idea for a while! Leave comments, like, and share. if you have any questions plz let me know!

I do not own any of the characters that Sarah J Mass has created. but I do own miss Wynnie Lara :p

[spencerxalvez]

18+

spencer reid x reader microfic; 500 words; mild smut

She presses her head back into the pillow, tumbling into the mattress with force.

Beneath her hips, the lithe muscles of her inner thighs tremble with overexertion.

Above her, Spencer tugs his lip into his mouth with his teeth, hazel eyes leveled on her in total and intense concentration. It’s heated, the way he’s looking at her in the shaft of faint light that streams horizontally in from the window. His bare skin is so warm against hers as she takes quick and dizzy stock of herself: his strong shoulders holding him easily above her; the brush of his long fingers against her neck; his thigh between her legs and the desperate ache for friction that pulses steadily through her shaking muscle.

“Spencer,” she whines. She hears herself as if she’s somewhere else, and then his hand is on her head, his palm warm where it smoothes over her hair.

“You’re shaking,” he whispers, lowering himself over her just enough that he can drop his forehead to her collarbone, his curls brushing her neck and the underside of her jaw. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is, the low tone of his voice sending shockwaves through her from the point where his breath ghosts over her skin.

The movement of his body lowering over her brings his thigh to press against her; she shifts her hips unconsciously against the friction and tilts her head back into his hand, tensing beneath him. He breathes a laugh, gentle and soft and warm against her ear.

“Let me help,” he says. It’s no more than the shadow of the words, not even a murmur but something lower and softer, and then he’s pressing a kiss to her neck and then he’s gone.

It happens in flashes from there; she wraps her fingers in his hair and holds steady— not pulling, just anchoring— as Spencer presses open-mouthed, hot kisses to the inside of her thigh, working his lips over the skin there until he’s at the center of the muscle she had overworked before.

There, he sinks his teeth confidently into the tender flesh and doesn’t hesitate even when she cries out, throat exposed. He flattens his palm against the expanse of her hip, fingers curling gently into the angel of the bone on both sides, and holds her in place as he works his mouth relentlessly into the skin and soft vessels underneath; she would swear she could feel them bursting, buckling beneath the sharp bite and force of Spencer’s warm mouth until she’s flayed open and her skin is violet and mottled, all shades of lilac and flushed red with uneven watercolored edges.

Spencer pulls away. Puts his mouth elsewhere; sends her careening over an edge in a matter of minutes. Even when he’s finished; even when she’s fighting to catch her breath and he’s murmuring i love you in her ear; even when she drifts to sleep against him, sticky and sated:

The bruise stays.

[ssweetleaf]

set phasers to stun.

summary: joel wants you to sit on his face— you think you’re far too heavy for something like that.

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

includes: SMUT 18+, face sitting/cunnilingus, dom!joel, i wrote this with an age gap in mind, but it isn’t really specified so make it up girlies, a bit of spanking, slight insecure!reader, pet names (honey, girlie, baby, babygirl, sunshine) a tad of a daddy kink (i’m sorry, it’s me, what do you expect?)

a/n: sorry i’ve been gone again, i’m back in my pedro pascal phase and this just came out of nowhere lol. let me know what you think. dividers credit goes to @saradika-graphics <33

“Quit your whinin’ and sit the fuck down.”

You were hovering over Joel’s face, thighs twitching and burning from their position, careful not to bump any part of yourself into him— too scared to fully sit yourself upon his face like he had so desperately asked for earlier in the day.

“Joel— m’too heavy,” you muttered, cheeks heating, shifting your weight from knee to knee and hands on the headboard, knuckles whitening from your firm grip.

He lifted a big palm against the cheek of your ass in a sharp, searing slap, quelling your whirring thoughts for just a moment, the burn of his hand print thick and heavy upon the globe of your ass.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” he growled, teeth clenched, eyes boring into yours from underneath you and you would’ve frowned at the sight of the protruding pudge of your belly when you looked down, but the constant smoothing of his callused hands against the soft rolls and swells of your body had you stifling it.

“Now listen here, honey,” he huffed, shifting his face to the side to press a few spongy kisses to the thickness of your thighs. “I ain’t gonna tell ya again.”

Joel was firm with his words, the low timbre shooting throughout your core and flooding your folds with a surge of arousal.

“Y’gonna take a seat, and y’gonna ride my fuckin’ face till I say you can stop, y’hear?”

“Joel, I—Ow!”

Another spank, on the other cheek this time, but just as hard, the print blooming in the shape of his calluses and the ring on his finger.

“Girlie.” The fond pet name was now a word of warning, almost daring you to disobey him. “Sit, now.”

You swallowed thickly, and with a shaky breath you lowered yourself down, easing onto his handsome face, the broad slope of his nose prominent against your slit, and you gasped at his deep inhale, breathing your scent deep into his lungs, almost savouring it before nudging your clit with the tip of his nose.

Your lashes fluttered, threatening to close once he mouthed a kiss to your pussy lips, teasingly sucking your folds into his eager mouth, careful to avoid your poor, puffy clit and keep you on edge.

“Look at this pretty cunt, hm?” he cooed, gruff and thick, muffled slightly from between your thighs and beneath your soft belly. “She’s been beggin’ for this, baby and you’ve been keeping her from me.”

His tongue peeked out from between his lips, swiping a long, fat stripe from your slick, fluttering hole, to the engorged jewel of your clit.

“Oh!” You whined, threading your fingers through his thick curls, tugging slightly once his lips enveloped your pearl, suckling it into his mouth, humming into your heat, the vibrations sending shockwaves throughout your cunt and you moaned out at the feeling. “Joel, fuck.”

He pulled back only slightly, brow raised and eyes dark and glistening— a big palm squeezed at the fat of your ass. A little warning.

“Language.” he clicked his tongue, turning to nuzzle into the thickness of your thigh, biting into it with dull molars and sharp canines, urging another wave of slick to surge your poor cunt.

“S-sorry!” You squeaked out, nails scratching against his scalp the way he liked as a little apology. “Keep going, please.”

You could feel his smirk against your flesh, tongue swiping at the marks he bit and sucked into the sensitive skin of your thighs.

“There she is,” he hummed, “now ya beggin’ for it, aren’t ya, baby? Knew you’d come around some time.”

Joel dove back into your cunt, lapping crudely at your hole, picking up silver strings of arousal on his tongue before lolling it over your peaked clit— smacking kisses to it, practically making out with your poor pussy whilst humming happily into your heat.

“Just needed some persuadin’, huh, sunshine?” he spoke into your pussy, voice muffled and barely legible through your hazy brain. “Just needed your ol’ man to eat this pretty pussy from down here, didn’t ya, babygirl?”

You cried out, nodding profusely at his filthy words and personification of your cunt, tears ebbing at your waterline and slowly easing over.

“Been havin’ so much trouble with my damn back— just layin’ here while you ride my face is so much better, sugar.”

Knowing your man wasn’t in pain, that his usual achy back and knees were quelled and sated by his current position, instead of the place he so often took between your legs with a hunched back and sore knees, had you relaxing somewhat.

‘Makin’ y’daddy a happy man, baby,” he groaned, fisting at the fat of your hips, leaving you tight and secure against his face. “fuckin’ dripping down my throat.”

You could feel the tightening in your belly, coiling throughout your insides, warming you up and leaving you panting, fisting at any part of him you could find.

“J-Joel,” you panted, chest heaving up and down, up and down, nails in his scalp, in his shoulder blades, even reaching behind you at his thighs. “so close.”

Your speech was clipped, lips stuttering and drool slipping from the corner of your mouth.

“Ah ah,” he shook his head, lips still suckling at your clit after every other word. “None of that, you ask for daddy’s permission— you know what to do.”

You whined again, long and drawn out, bucking your hips and huffing out— there was a warmth upon your cheeks that blossomed, creeping down your neck and teasing the tips of your ears, all shy now when asking your man to cum.

“Please, Joel,” you sighed out, thighs squeezing at his ears, clamping him tight underneath you. “can I cum? Pretty please?”

“Please, what?” He huffed, gruff and quick, tongue lolling and rolling over your spit-slick clit before thrusting the pink muscle into your quivering hole. “Ain’t got all day, hon.”

“Daddy— please, daddy! Need’a cum.”

“Atta girl, such nice manners— taught you good, baby girl. Cum f’me.”

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Accident Prone

Sylus x Y/N - drabble -772 WC

Masterlist

Warnings: fluff, based off a request, slight injury, very cute

Sylus watched as you cut up the fruit you insisted on having for a snack. It was a regular Saturday but you insisted on pampering your sleepy mob boss boyfriend. So he sat at the island and watched you hum while you sliced away. 

“Careful sweetie.” Sylus said as you got a little too close to your finger for his comfort.

“I’m a pro.” you said waving him off. This would have been true if you weren't the definition of clumsy. You turned with the plate of fruit in your hand, but your socks had it out for you today. You felt yourself starting to slip, you shoved the fruit to the counter before you slipped, knife in hand. You didn’t feel it immediately, you saw the blood first. Sylus rushed to your side, the small knife sticking out of your thigh.

You sat in silence as you felt tears starting to stream down your face. Sylus didn’t hesitate, slipping his arm under your legs to pick you up. He sat you on the counter before he used his evol, disappearing before you then reappearing with his first aid kit in hand. You called it “the mob kit” because it was basically a triage kit, holding way more than the basic supplies of a normal first aid kit. Thankfully you weren't wearing pants so he didn't have to cut anything off you. 

Sylus held your face in his hands, “Hey honey, I need you to look at me ok? Focus on me ok? Look at me…” he said before his evol ripped the knife from your leg.

You let out a sharp shriek, you felt it all now. You watched as blood trickled down your leg, spilling onto the floor and island countertop. 

“You did so good, baby so so good.” Sylus said, inspecting the cut. “Good news - no stitches. I’ll give you some poor man stitches instead.” 

You sniffled, trying to be tough in front of Sylus who had suffered far greater injuries. You nodded at him, giving him permission to do whatever he needed to do. 

Sylus cleaned your wound with iodine to avoid it stinging, he wanted to save you as much pain as possible. Once the wound had clotted enough to wrap he pinched the skin together slightly, sealing it with super glue. 

“That’s poor man's stitches? Glue?” you asked, slightly shocked.

“Sure is. You know how many of my scars are from these kinds of stitches?” he said with a chuckle. 

He blew softly on the glue to help it dry, tapping it lightly to make sure it was dry and would hold. Once he was satisfied, Sylus started wrapping gauze around your leg, pinning it in place so you could walk around and not have it ride down or irritate your skin. 

“There we go, my brave little klutz. I really have to keep an eye on you, you’re so accident prone.” he laughed, setting his hand down on the countertop. Well, what he thought was the countertop. His hand made contact with the plate of food, sliding out from under him. The fruit scattered over the counter and the floor but Sylus caught himself before he could get hurt.

“What were you saying about me being accident prone?” you said, stifling a laugh. “I worked hard to make that fruit plate, now look.” You could see the slightest dusting of pink on Sylus’ cheeks. 

Sylus rolled his eyes as he picked up a slice of peach from the counter, biting off half before offering the other half to you. You smiled, taking it between your teeth, giving his finger a quick nip while you did so. You could see a flame stoke in him. You looked at him with innocent eyes, pretending like you weren’t trying to tease him. 

“Think we can manage a way to get to the bedroom without having another accident?” Sylus asked, taking your hands and helping you off the counter. 

“I guess we’ll find out.” you said, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. 

He smiled as he watched you walk towards your shared bedroom, a small limp in your step. You felt Sylus’ evol wrap around you, carrying you to the bed. He leaned over you, pulling the fluffy comforter over you. “Stay here.” he said before disappearing once again. He reappeared once more after a moment, handing you a pain killer. 

You swallowed it with some water. “Thank you baby.” you smiled, pulling him down by the collar of his shirt to kiss him. 

Sylus smiled into the kiss, deepening it as he tilted your chin up.

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

Naboo's Note:

Hello all! Hope ya'll like this one, its based off a request from a while back. I'll be writing a few fics tonight since I'm working an overnight. Love ya'll XOXOXOXOXOX

[aozui]

BRAZIL BOUND . . ! ( a.k.a. the bbverse ) a collection of semi-connected standalones, a universe where hinata has to choose between you, or his dreams.

REPLY TO THIS POST TO BE ADDED TO THE GEN TAGLIST ⋆ SEND A REQUEST, OR TAKE A LOOK AT MY MASTERLIST

s/o @gothamtwinks for being an absolute godsend and letting me use their art in the banner, post layout ib the talented @ chuluoyi

FLUFF entries ⎯⎯ ✩ last updated: tba

OO1: toothpaste kisses

format: drabble 🌞 his favorite mornings are the ones spent with you. (wc: tba)

OO2: aloe you

format: drabble 🌞 “going to brazil means you need to learn to put sunscreen on properly.” “why should I learn when you can do it for me?” (wc: tba)

OO3: sharp teeth

format: short form fic 🌞 he’s having trouble packing, will you come over and help him? he cut his hand too, will you please, maybe, kiss it better? (wc: tba)

ANGST ( + hurt/comfort ) entries ⎯⎯ ✩ last updated: tba

OO1: homecoming

format: long form fic 🌞 he’s back, but not for good. *hurt/mostly comfort (wc: tba)

OO2: what’s it gonna be?

format: drabble 🌞 it’s time to make the choice. *hurt no comfort (wc: tba)

TEXT SMAU entries ⎯⎯ ✩ last updated: tba

OO1: can I drink expired milk?

no written part 🌞 hinata texts you his grocery lists, treats you like his personal search engine, and you start to think he has some hidden motives. alternatively: he misses you, so he finds ways to talk.

SPINOFF entries ⎯⎯ ✩ (in the making)

“oh, you’re a tourist too?” you didn’t expect to find a fellow foreigner so soon, but zero complaints. brazil isn’t easy to navigate on your own. “let’s help each other.”

OO1: baby steps | oneshot

format: short form fic ☁️ surfing hasn’t always been your forte, but shoyo thinks you’re a fast learner. “I can teach you.” (wc: tba)

OO2: walk the plank | oneshot

format: semi long fic (?) ☁️ hinata is a messy drunk, and you’re the only person he calls. (wc: tba)

OO3: bail | oneshot

format: long form fic ☁️ sho finds himself tangled in a series of misunderstandings. you make a trip to the police station to help him out. (wc: tba)

MOODBOARD + PLAYLIST (soon!)

a/n: I don’t know when I’ll update this, but please don’t expect anything consistent till the next semester break <3

[jayparked]

teaser: relief switch | jaeyun | m

release date: TBD pairing: switch sim jaeyun x switch female reader genre: smut au: established relationship rating: explicit/18+, minors dni estimated word count: 7k+ // current word count: 4.2k sexual warnings: oral (male receiving), fingering, dirty talk, head pusher jake, unprotective sex, non penetrative and penetrative sex, whiny jake, begging, swearing, slight size kink???, thigh riding, hair pulling, lots of praise (praise kink???), spanking, naked dry humping???, pet names (useful girl, sweet boy, good boy/girl,sweetheart, babe, baby etc), marking, edging, overstimulation, forced orgasm, more tbd ♡ a/n: a special thank you to my best friend @sungbeams for all the encouragement and reading over this even with it being unfinished. this one is dedicated to you ♡

“How would you like me to take it out on you?” you question with a lowered voice, tilting your head down slightly to flick your eyes more up at him, batting your eye lashes in a way you know he can’t resist. 

His thumb stops moving just below your bottom lip where his eyes also rest. “Well, depends on the type of day you had. Do you need to let out your anger? Pretend I’m your boss and raise your voice, say some absurd things? Or do you need to feel useful?” The more he talks, the lower his tone and volume go, his voice growing softer while his speech slows. To make it worse, at the end of his sentence he releases your lips from his gaze, his deep brown eyes flicking up ever so slightly to meet your own. And you instantly become putty in his hands. 

“Useful,” you mutter, averting your gaze to the side to avoid the smirk you know is displayed on his handsome face.

“Oh, I can put you to use, love. Knees. Now.” Jake commands with a snap of his finger before pointing it down at the ground and using his other hand to give your bottom lip a quick swipe with his thumb. 

“Right here? What about the bedro-“

“I thought,” he cuts you off, removing his hand from your face to slowly start undoing his belt, “you wanted,” the belt’s on the floor, his hands now unbuttoning his slacks, “to be,” his eyes are locked on yours, “useful,” he growls.

Placing a hand on the back of your head, he leans you forward, giving you a swift tender kiss on the forehead before pushing your head down. 

You fall to your knees quickly, your hands sliding down his torso until they rest at his hips where his slacks are barely hanging on by his growing bulge which you’re now eye level with. 

Between clenched teeth and a sharp inhale of his breath, Jake commands, “Don’t make me have to ask you twice.”

Your hands move without any further hesitation to push his slacks and underwear down from his hips, his hardened member bouncing at the release of the constraints. How is he already this hard? Jake’s weeping cock is already fully stiff and alert, begging for contact. 

Looking straight up at your man, wanting to hold his gaze, you stick your tongue out and give him a long lick from the base of his member to just below the bulbous part of his tip. Jake’s head falls back against the door, his eyes fluttering to the back of his head as one of his hands reaches for your hair. He strokes it gently at first before giving a warning tug. 

“Please,” he whines softly with an airy gasp, eyes still closed, “not today. Don’t tease me today, Y/n.”

a/n: ♡ pls like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! ♡ masterlist all rights reserved jayparked 09/20/24 do not copy, repost, or translate want to be added to my tag list? click here

[thefearedashantis]

Touch Grass

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Summary: Reader makes Remus stand barefoot in grass to help his chronic pain

Warning: its pretty short

"Is this really necessary?"

You step into the grass with a frown “didn’t you say you were having a flare-up?”

“Killer”

“Then yes, it’s necessary.”

You and Remus have only been living in this house for a few months. It fell on the more expensive side of what you could afford, but you'd both agreed to cut back on a few luxuries until you developed a suitable spending cushion.

You'd chosen it because it was the only spot you'd viewed that really had your sole requirement. A yard. Even if only a measly few feet of it.

You thrived off being outside. A few minutes of sunlight and fresh air a day were enough to breeze you through a rough week. Sometimes, you would even retreat out here for hours at a time to just stare at the sky and listen to music. Falling asleep on more than one occasion.

All you had to do now was convince your indoorsy boyfriend just how beneficial the investment could be for him as well.

It's a beautiful day.

A perfectly clear blue sky. The neighbourhood in a lull as afternoon sweeps in. Signs of life drift over your high fence, allowing you to imagine what you couldn't physically see. Muffled chatter from a television, someone watching old reruns. The smell of freshly baked pastries, an oven timer chiming. The squeals and giggles of a child echoed by the rowdy grumble of a dog. That in particular was a sound you heard quite often these days. The people that lived directly beside you had a young son who relished in terrorizing their new Golden.

A gentle touch presses into your hip, startling you.

You turn to face Remus and almost break out into tears at the sight of him, already feeling guilty for forcing him off the couch.

He looks so frail for such an otherwise tall, imposing boy. Dark hair sticks to his damp forehead, sweater haphazardly thrown over his drooping shoulders. His skin is washed, cracked lips melded together in a grimace, and eyes glassy where they stare at you. Heavy lidded. He sways on bare feet. Fingers bunch into the fabric of your shirt and pull taught. You stumble a step at his grip.

Reaching out, your arms circle his waist “Here, lean on me." He's slumping forward before you've even finished offering. His face settles into the space between your neck and shoulder. He inhales deeply, suppressing a groan only for your benefit. With a sharp intake of air, he rubs his nose into your skin, allowing the next bellow of pain to slip free. The grisly sound of his teeth grinding makes your heart clench.

You're such a horrible person.

"Only for a few minutes Rem," you promise, sliding your hand into his hair to massage his scalp. He's putting much more weight on you than he usually allows. You have to lock your knees to steady you both.

“I'm burning” Remus complains.

You squint up at the sun. There's no cloud cover to protect you from its battering rays. "Sunlight is good for you." He'd been shut away in the house all week, with the curtains closed.

"Not if I end up with skin cancer."

You remind him of the sunscreen you'd so lovingly slathered on him prior to your journey outside. The citrusy aroma of it lingers on him. "The spf was pretty high."

This doesn't seem to appease him. Warm breath billows across the front of your face as Remus shifts to your other shoulder, hiding himself from direct contact. He does feel pretty warm. Overheating wouldn't do his exhausted body any good.

Tapping him twice, you try to dislodge your intertwined limbs. "I'll get you a hat." Some water as well. He could rest on the porch steps until you get back. You wait a beat for Remus to let go, and when he doesn't, tap him again.

"I'm fine like this," he mumbles, kissing the hollow of your throat lightly

You ask if he's sure but receive no response.

The two of you stand in the centre of your yard in comfortable silence for the next few minutes. Occasionally, Remus will groan and rearrange himself, to which you can provide little comfort other than a firm rub on the back. You don't want to disturb him, so you keep busy by wiggling your toes in the grass. It rained last night, the soil still damp. The cool ground feels good.

After a while, Remus eases some of his weight. Leaning up, he bumps your foreheads together. Cheek to Cheek, he rests his lips against your ear, sending a pleasant jolt down your spine. He whispers, "So what's the science behind this?"

"Well, it's called grounding." As soon as you say it, you feel stupid.

Remus has dealt with chronic pain for as long as you've known him. Has tried every remedy there was. Who were you to think you'd found all the answers from one of your silly little deep dives.

Your palms start to get clammy. How could you explain to him that you were forcing him into discomfort to satisfy your own curiosities.

"Go on, don't get shy now." Remus can feel the sudden tension in your posture. Pressing in closer, he virtually fuses your bodies together.

"Imagine your body is like a phone," you start. "You have to recharge it regularly for it to work properly. Grounding is like plugging your phone, yourself, in. When you do it, you connect your body to the electrical energy of the Earth. Simple things like walking barefoot on grass or leaning against a tree or deep breaths of fresh air can rejuvenate you." And just to sound like you have some sort of good reasoning you tack on "Its supposed to be anti-inflammatory." At least that's what every nature healing blog you'd read claimed.

Remus remains quiet as if he's waiting for you to say more. Your nerves fizzle with embarrassment.

"Is it working?" You wonder aloud, more to yourself than anything.

Remus tips the two of you side to side with a long hum. Nimble fingers play at the edge of your top, gliding upwards to push at the pluff of your tummy. "I'm not sure, but you’re soft."

You struggle to contain a giggle when they slide even higher. Up and up until they brush along the underside of your chest.

Yanking his hands down, you nip at his chin. "A few more minutes, and then we’ll go inside." Maybe you'd even reward him for not laughing outright at your idea.

My back hurts - XoXo Jermaine

divider: @plutism

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐔𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐑𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧- 𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠

This photo is such a good example of how tailoring your fashion style to compliment your rising sign just helps you GLOW with your natural features.

Disclaimer: This is my own opinion as an astrologer and I am slightly biased because this man is my bias (one of them) and he has my heart hook, line and sinker.

Hongjoong is a Scorpio stellium with a Capricorn Rising so Mars and Saturn are his two most influential rulers and come on- can't you tell?

He looks amazing in everything he wears (even the mushroom bowl cut) BUT the biggest reason why my favourite hair colour on Hongjoong is his natural brunette is because Saturn represents minimalism, 'clean', 'efficiency' etc.

Hongjoong already has a gorgeous bone structure, he's got a sharp jawline and cheekbones, beautiful teeth and a long vertical line- it's why he appears taller than he actually is.

But his features are fine and dainty, he has a lithe build which is common for people with Capricorn Rising- they don't tend to have a lot of curvature unlike their sister sign Cancer.

So when he has bright hair or light-coloured hair, it can diminish his natural features whereas his natural dark hair sharpens them.

A common phrase with a Capricorn Rising is 'less is more'.

This velvet suit he wore is another great example and one of my faves, he is a Gemini Moon so he does like a little bit of colour but it is still dark enough and cool-toned for it to compliment his features.

Cool/neutral/monochromatic tones look the best on him which also matches his Capricorn Rising.

Hongjoong is not a DILF, he is a 100% pure sugar daddy at heart.

And what photos of Hongjoong you see where the 'he's such a daddy' comments are most active?

When he's wearing these tailored monochromatic outfits that are minimal (ish), classic and timeless and combined with his natural hair colour- bring out his natural beauty and elegance.

That 'Here's $1,000 in your account because you've been such a sweet angel lately' sugar daddy/leader energy we all love about him (and makes me want to crawl for him) is the most evident when he caters to the Capricorn/Saturnian influence in his natal chart.

And a quick shout out to this fancall when he wore this navy blue jumper and he had his dark hair parted with minimal makeup and he looks like a walking EDWARD CULLEN here.

One of my favourite looks purely for the fantasy alone.

I love this fancall because this fancall was when he revealed that the Atiny's appearance and style was 'his type' and said he found them physically attractive- which just helped me affirm that his type is just 'grunge/goth/emo/alt with a feminine twist'.

It also helped affirm my theory that whilst Hongjoong adores all Atiny's, he does give a lil extra 'boyfriend treatment' to the Atiny's who bias him- which is definitely unlike his Scorpio stellium at all (said sarcastically).