#nobody's required to read or respond to this

[everythingacotarbxm1012]

They're Mates - with Y/N Pt 1

Summary - Feyre meets Rhys's Inner Circle and witnesses the strength of the mating bond.

Warnings - abusive family mentioned.

Other Notes - 1k words; Please note that most of these lines/plot points are inspired or directly quoted from ACOMAF; I originally posted this where Reader was given the name 'Vee' but am putting this one out for anyone who might prefer y/n.

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || They’re Mates Universe Masterlist

✨💫

Feyre looked up to see the same two males from earlier standing in the doorway, grinning, and a new presence. A beautiful female with wings like the others. She wore a deep blue gown that reached the floor––her hair resting over both her shoulders. The two males wore black leather with a sword strapped against their backs. Feyre noted the power each of them seemed to hold.

The male who was a bit large than the other, spoke up with a light chuckle. “We don’t bite. Unless you ask us to Feyre.”

The female shot him a pointed look. “Last time I checked, nobody wanted to take you up on that offer, Cassian.” The male who stood between the female and Cassian let out a light, short, laugh before whispering something into the female’s ear making her eyes twinkle subtly. Feyre watched as Cassian gave his own pointed look.

“No secrets in front of our guest, Az,” Cassian said with a grin.

The light danced across their faces allowing Feyre to observe their physical features for a moment. Similar to Rhysand, all three were dark-haired. Both males had tanned skin and hazel eyes. Feyre couldn’t quite tell the eye color of the female standing next to Az, but she gave off an air of beauty and power.

Cassian grinned again, looking Rhys and Feyre up and down. “You made poor Feyre dress up, brother,” he said before winking in her direction. His features were rough like someone had molded him, from the earth.

The second male was more classically beautiful, though hard to read. He was certainly the one who would be a surprise in the dark, the hidden knife. Feyre noticed the light sparkle in his eyes anytime he looked at the female to his left. It piqued a curiosity in Feyre.

Rhys said, “Azriel––my spymaster,” indicating the one in the middle. He then indicated the female. “Y/N. An emissary for the Night Court.” A name, Feyre later learned, Az had adopted for the emissary after she declared she did not want the name her abusive family had given her.

She immediately offered her hand with a warm smile. “Welcome, Feyre.” She gently squeezed Feyre’s hand before she quickly let go and Feyre does her best to not seem eager as she stepped back to stand next to the High Lord of the night Court, again.

“You’re brothers?” Feyre asked. The two males before her looked similar. The kind of similar where people who come from the same place do, not familial similar.

“All bastards are brothers in some sense,” Rhys responded, sticking his hands in his pockets.

Before Feyre could ask Cassian said, “And I command Rhys’s armies.”

Feyre nodded, shifting on her feet slightly before her eyes glanced to see Azriel taking another glance in the emissary’s direction. She looked right back with a smile that showed a clear fondness for the spymaster. The moment went as quickly as it came when Az turned his gaze to Feyre. “Cassian also excels at pissing everyone off. Especially amongst our friends. So, as a friend of Rhysand, good luck.”

Feyre was giving more attention to not being recognized as the girl Under the Mountain. She wondered, for just a moment if they knew––maybe they didn’t. That was quickly  answered when Cassian nudged past the Night Court’s spymaster requiring Az to flare his wings to keep himself balanced. Feyre watched Y/N’s hand fall to Azriel’s lower back to assist. Feyre noticed the fleeting moment of eye contact between the spymaster and the emissary, but it quickly became a second thought as Cassian asked his question about how Feyre had made the bone ladder in the Middengard Wyrm’s lair, when as he put it, “you looked like your own bones could snap at any moment.”

Y/N shot Cassian another pointed gaze, but it turned into a grin after Feyre made a sarcastic comment of her own. The general laughed and Azriel’s eyebrow lifted with approval as the shadows swirled around him, tighter. Feyre’s need to understand the gift only furthered when the shadows swirled up and around Y/N’s wrist playfully, before weaving around the ends of her hair.

Her curiosity once again was pushed to the side when Feyre heard, thankfully, a familiar voice…Mor. “I hope Cassian’s howling means Feyre told him to shut his fat mouth.”

Y/N quickly whispered something into Az’s ear, his shadows lightened slightly from around him. Feyre’s curiosity about the nature of their relationship increasing.

“I don’t know why I forget you two are related,” Cassian told Mor, while glancing over at Rhys for just a moment. “You two and your clothing.” The High Lord rolled his eyes, but Feyre had her own focus on the emissary and the spymaster who were both standing in silence, stealing glances at each other.

“I wanted to impress Feyre. You could have tried to make an effort to comb your hair,” Mor responded.

Cassian braced his feet a little farther apart on the floor in a fighting stance Feyre recognized, perhaps too well. “Unlike some people, I have better things to do with my time than sit in front of the mirror for hours,” the general bit back.

“Yes,” Mor the said, tossing her hair over her shoulder, “since swaggering around––”

“We have company,” Azriel said in a soft warning, spreading his wings as he tried to herd everyone.

“Relax, Az,” Mor said as she dodged the spymaster’s outstretched wing. “We won’t fight. We promised Rhys.”

Feyre barely noticed Az stop in his tracks, letting out the smallest of huff and his shadows seem to become thicker. She then watched as Y/N took one of Az’s hands in her own, gently pressing her lips to the back of it. His shadows lightened around him. Apparently the question about their relationship reached Feyre’s face because Rhys leaned down slightly to say, “They’re mates. Azriel and Y/N. They’ve known each other a little over 500 years and been mates just under 500.”

Feyre considered that fact, thinking there was something delicately beautiful about nearly 500 years of commitment between the two. Now she just had a few thousand more questions about the court’s spymaster and emissary. Question she decided were for another time as Mor indicated the empty seat beside her. Feyre knew the image of Az whispering into his mate’s ear and the twinkle in her eye would be etched into the back of her mind forever.

[kaciebello]

Wrong address

Masterlist Delivery Express ✿ Summary: The reader sees an opportunity to run an untapped market in Hogwarts.  She just wishes people would put the proper address on it. Warnings: mention cigarettes, no use of y/n Authors note: English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes beforehand. I want to spread this into a one-shot series. Proofread by me and me only (Ｔ▽Ｔ) • Previously: Left on delivered • Next part: Too many voicemails word count: 1.1k

notes to deliver: 365

It wasn't hard to find the Slytherin boys, usually you could hear them from miles away. That is why sometimes when they want to keep their business private, they sneak into the room of requirements. Not only was it soundproof, but no one just stumbled upon it. Most importantly nobody knows they hang out there. Or so the thought.

The giant door slides open revealing a makeshift sunroom. Nobody should have been able to find them there, yet they are not surprised when they see a certain Hufflepuff girl with a yellow bow in her hair. She was fondling a note in her hand looking at it confused. She steps into the room as a door closes behind her, making her way to the number of sofas in the room. The room senses her presence, makes sure there is room for her, and even goes as far as giving her a cup of tea.

“ What you got there mail girl?” asks Draco before closing his eyes and soaking up the artificial sun. Maybe he won't get sunburned from this one. 

“ Note for one of you…” all attention was on her now. Curiosity reeks from the boys. They are not strangers to being delivered notes or letters from the girl. If anything, it became like a norm at this point. Not that they ever respond to any.

“Well dont keep us on the edge of our seats. For who?” Says Mattheo eager to open it and read it.

“That's the point. I don't know.” She says and sighs. Promptly burying her head in her hands. Eager glances are swapped for confused ones.

Various versions of ‘Why do you mean you don't know.’ leave the boys. She just looks at the note before speaking.

“ I usually have people write to who on the folded note. and you know, that system works! Sure, some people mix Fred and George but who wouldn't.” She pauses, thumbs of agreement. She fips the note. “ This one is addressed to ‘ the cute guy from Slytherin’.”

“Oh sunshine, isn't it obvious? Give me the note.” Theodor says reaching for it. Blasie stops him with a disgusted look. She knew this would happen.

“Like hell it's you, if anyone here is cute it’s me!” says Draco no longer behaving like a cat in a sun but one that is about to pull out its claws. One by one the boys got increasingly offended if they were not suggested by the others. The girl places the note in her lap and reaches for her tea. It was amusing to see her fight for the title of the cute boy in Slytherin. And some people say they are dangerous.  Tooning them out, she looks around the room to admire it. 

“Sunshine.” Says Lorenzo making her turn back to them and pay attention. 

“ Give us the note.” He says, his eyes were a tad bit crazy. She shakes her head and places the cup on a table. Sometimes her friends scared her, not for the reason many people thought. Looking closely at all of them. They all had the same look in their eyes. 

She gets up and swiftly moves to stand behind a sofa, making sure there is some barrier between her and them.

“Sunshine, give us the note,” he repeats extending his hand to her. She just takes a B-line to the door. A crashing sound behind her made her clutch to the note in her hand. A few steps before the door Mattheo appears and blocks her way. She knew better than to start backing up so she turned and made her way to the glass door that seemed to be leading outside. She however could never outrun 5 boys in their prime, no.

A decision was made right then and there. When she can feel Draco catching up to her, she ducks—Draco completely misses her and runs into the glass door. She however was already running to the fireplace. She was a few steps from it when Lorenzo jumped out of nowhere and tackled her on the floor. Making sure to turn them around so he sounded her fall. The note slips from her grip. The two groan on impact.

“Bro that was unnecessary.” She whines and rolls at her friend. Sitting her to him while he lies on the floor with a smile.

“Yeah, but I got the note…” He says and looks in the direction the note has fallen. His smile drops when he sees it. The note has landed in the fire just as the girl intended to. The sides curled and ashy, there was no saving it. A victorious cheer leaves the girl, while others groan in frustration.

Looking around the scene, some pillows were thrown on the ground. One chair was flipped over and was lying on its side. Draco was holding his nose as Blasie helped him up. Something told the girl his father won't be hearing about this one. Overall it looked like someone casted Bombarda in the middle of the room.

Turning to the friend next to her, making sure he's okay. He just waves his arm at her and jumps up. Before helping her up. In the meanwhile, the rest have sat down in their previous spots. Mattheo flicked his wand to clean the room up a bit. 

Silence sat among the friends. A new batch of tea was made, and they all tried to figure out what just happened. The only sound in the room was the fire cracking, the remains of the note still visible. It's Blaise who breaks the silence.

“Um, that was…” He swallows the rest of his thought, opting to just nod his head.

“Man, we should have read it together, just aloud.” Says Theodor, pulling out his cigarette and offering it to anyone willing to take one. Nods and hums of agreement were heard from the boys.

“You know, the girl that gave it to me was very cryptic.” She says sipping on her tea and swapping the smoke away occasionally. Their ears perked up but they were still licking their wounds to pay proper attention.

“ She said, and I quote. ‘ You know who’ and winked before running away.” She pauses to take a sip before continuing. “ I think she wanted me to give it to the one I thought was the cutest” Lost in her thoughts, her gaze remained on ashes. She did not even notice that the chatter stopped.

Silence from the boys. Until.

“Well, who do think it's the cutest?” She just sighs at the question. Here we go again.

notes to deliver: 364

Tag list: @daisiesformylove, @klimovatereza-blog , @lafrone , @enfppixie , @rafegfs , @frogtape , @lovelyygirl8

[quizzicalwriter]

omg your smuts w squ!rt!ng in them are just too good. can you please do one of them but with johnny cade x reader and with praise? thank you!

Interrupted Television

Pairing: Johnny Cade x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dallas talks, a lot. Johnny listens. One particular conversation peaked his interest and now your game show is interrupted.

Warnings: SMUT. MDNI. Fingering, oral, squirting - all that stuff.

A/N: Thank you for the requests! I’m glad you guys like my writing for Johnny!

Word Count: 1.7k

“Orcas.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you threaded your fingers through his hair, his head resting on your lap had kept you planted on your couch for the last hour and a half watching some rerun of a game show neither of you knew the name of. Yet somehow he was getting every damn question right, you’d known that he’d been reading ever since he left his parent's house, but with the information he knew you’d venture to say he’d been reading encyclopedias in his spare time.

And damn if he wasn’t right again, you gave him a celebratory pat on the back as the contestants all looked between each other in mysticism that they hadn’t been able to answer the question. He looked back to you, a triumphant grin on his face as you cradled his cheek, thumb brushing against his tanned cheekbone.

“Smart guy.” You whispered, earning you a throaty chuckle as he extended his hand up to brush your hair behind your ear, letting his touch linger against your cheek before dropping it back by his side. “I ain’t smart, I just read.”

You playfully rolled your eyes through a sigh, gently pushing his face back to the television. “That’s what bein’ smart is, Johnny.”

He only responded with a hum, seemingly sucked back into the show as they moved onto another category. In truth you hadn’t been paying attention for the last half hour, finding yourself enamored by the sight of him laying against your lap, his lips pursed in thought as he racked his mind for answers to questions he’d never be asked outside of a trivia show.

It wasn’t often you were both able to relax, if it wasn’t your odd work schedule then it was his - or someone requiring your attention, just like his friends required his. Whenever he could scrounge up the time, he’d be at your place for the weekend, stuck to you like glue until he had to leave for work. You’d made the venture to his place, but he wasn’t too fond of you staying there for too long, mainly because Dallas had walked in on you two enough to warrant him speaking to his long-time friend about privacy.

He’d pulled you out of your thoughts with a gentle tap to your knee, deep brown eyes staring up at you curiously. You’d still been half dazed, hand resuming its movements in his hair - only his hair wasn’t there anymore and you’d damn near blinded the poor guy by poking him right in the eye. You swore loudly, jerking your hand back at the same pace he took to sit up, laughing through a groan as he cupped his eye. You couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled from you as you scooted toward him on the couch, gently pulling his hand away to make sure he wasn’t hurt.

“Now that you’ve partially blinded me-“ He started, still laughing somewhat as he blinked rapidly, trying to negate the pain. “Can we try that?”

“Try what?” You asked, still stifling laughter of your own as you dropped your hands to your lap.

He looked up at you then, sighing for a moment at the realization that you’d been daydreaming the entire time he’d been talking, but you looked cute enough for him to not care.

“Well, Dally mentioned somethin’ he did with a girl. I know most of his stories seem like bullshit, but I wanted to try it with you.”

Dallas had an odd way of announcing every tirade he’d done with a woman to their group of friends, even when nobody asked for it - but they were guys, so they were all intrigued as soon as he started speaking. You chewed at your inner cheek, eyes narrowing for a moment as you thought over what Dallas could’ve possibly mentioned to Johnny for him to be intrigued enough to want to test it out on you.

“Sure, why not.” You mused with a shrug, giving him a small smile as you moved closer to him, knees bumping together. He returned the smile, hands moving to your hips where he quickly helped you into his lap. There was something about the act of being in his lap that instinctively had you aching around nothing, maybe it was the way his hips would rock up into you, or the way he’d grab at your hips hard enough to leave bruises - whatever it was you could already feel your heartbeat hammering in your chest.

“Just gonna-“ He murmured, words nearly inaudible as he unbuttoned your jeans, the heat of his hands causing you to shiver against his touch. You could hear him stifle a laugh as he brushed his fingers against your cunt through your underwear, rubbing delicate circles over your folds through the semi-wet fabric. Your eyes fluttered shut as you gave yourself over to the feeling, he took the moment to lean forward, connecting your lips in a needy kiss as he continued working you up.

“Johnny-“ You whined, not bothering to pull away from the kiss. “I- fuck, touch me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, moving his hand to slip underneath your underwear as he trailed kisses along your jaw and onto your throat before moving back to your lips.

His fingers smoothed against your cunt, slowly moving back and forth along your folds before pushing in. You whined against his lips, hips stuttering as he curled his fingers within you, pressing against a spot within you that had you clamping down around his fingers. You could feel him smile into the kiss as he pumped his fingers, his thumb brushing against your clit with each movement.

“You can move, baby.” He whispered, eyes flickering up to meet yours. You nodded, wetting your lips as you rocked your hips against his palm, the feeling of his fingers pressed against your g-spot making you nearly forget how to breathe. You could hear him softly laugh, hand moving from your hip to your back where he pressed you into his chest, allowing you to rest your head against his shoulder as he pumped his fingers in and out, ensuring they curled against that same spot with each movement.

You could feel that familiar sensation of your orgasm building in your lower stomach, cunt squeezing around his digits as you practically rode his fingers. He looked up to you then, smiling at the sight of your flushed-out expression, how your brows furrowed together, your parted lips. He knew he had you just where he wanted you, and within a second he had you flipped over onto your back against the couch. You’d hardly had a moment to process the sudden change in position before he had your pants and underwear removed, tossing them near the television before sinking between your legs.

“Johnny?” You asked through a laugh, all thoughts cut off the moment he placed an open-mouthed kiss on your cunt. Your thighs jerked, to which he quickly wrapped his arms around them, hands pressed against your lower stomach as he kissed and sucked along your cunt. You could feel him moan against your folds, the vibration from the noise causing your back to arch off the fabric of the couch.

He moved one of his arms, pulling away for a moment before pushing the same two fingers back into your cunt, pace relentless as he circled your clit with his tongue. You all but cried at the feeling, unable to formulate any words as sheer ecstasy raced through your veins. Your hips rocked against his face, and throughout it all his eyes stayed locked on your face, watching as your expression contorted into one of absolute pleasure.

“I’m gonna-“ You mewled, hands grasping desperately at his hair as you ground against his face. He hummed, seemingly proud of himself as he jerked his fingers up into you, repeatedly hitting your g-spot as he flicked your clit with his tongue, intermittently sucking it as your thighs tensed under his hold.

With a broken cry of his name, you came undone, cunt spasming around his fingers. He refused to let up, hands moving to hold you steady as he continued swirling his tongue around your clit. A whine tore itself from your chest as you grabbed at the cushions of the couch, breath catching in your chest at the feeling of your cunt twitching from overstimulation.

He shifted against the couch, moving to push two fingers into you once more, continuing the near-brutal pace that’d made you cum in the first place. You would’ve screamed at the feeling if you’d been able to take in any sort of air, instead, you were left writhing underneath him as every breath came in as a short gasp. His free hand pushed down against your lower stomach, the newfound pressure causing another orgasm to build rapidly.

“Fu-uck!” You sobbed out, waterline pricking with tears from the relentless sensation of his tongue and fingers working against you. The near pitiful noises only spurred him on, a moan of his own leaving him, the vibration directly against your clit sending you over the edge. You felt yourself gush, juices coating the couch along with your inner thighs - and consequently, Johnny’s lower face.

You’d half expected him to be upset, but all he wore was an extremely proud grin as he looked up at you from between your legs, taking a moment to press kisses to your inner thighs before moving up to kiss you. You could taste yourself on his tongue as his hands smoothed up your sides, thumbs affectionately circling your ribs as he pressed kisses along your jaw.

“So good-“ He murmured against your dampened skin. “So proud.”

It took a moment for you to regain the ability to properly breathe, but once you had you smiled up at him, in a fair bit of shock yourself at both the fact that he’d wanted to do that and the fact that you’d done it at all.

“Was that what you wanted to try?” You asked through a breathless laugh, taking a moment to wipe your shirt against his mouth and jaw. He chuckled into the fabric, pushing it away gently.

“Figured Dally was bullshittin’, he wasn’t.”

A/N: Another Johnny work!! I hope you guys enjoyed this, I’m still tryin’ to get the hang of Johnny’s character and writing him - but I enjoy it nonetheless. As always, you can find all my works over on my AO3 account, “Unscriptural.” Thank you all for the magnitude of support you’ve shown my work, I appreciate it dearly!

[thelittleliars]

Surprise

Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader

Warnings: fighting, being drunk, mention of homophobia, mention of deceased parents, angst with a happy end

Words: 3.5k

Summary: You wanted to surprise your girlfriend but instead you were the one that got surprised.

A/N: Here it is: the Angst with a happy ending one shot as the majority of you voted for! Btw I did not proof read it so be aware.

Flying wasn't your thing; sitting for hours in a thing that is high in the air with nothing to do but to sleep, eat, watch or read something. And airplane was a capsule of boredom to you, that was why you'd never fly unless you had to. Unfortunately you had to fly for your job since it required you to fly overseas from time to time. This time you had a 15 hour flight back home, itching to not only to see your girlfriend Natasha but also to surprise her, your supposed flight was scheduled for only three days later and when you were given the go to fly back earlier you took the chance and told her nothing about it. You hadn't seen her in weeks so you were extra excited to see her again.

The uber stopped in front of your apartment complex, as you got your things out of the trunk you thanked them for the pleasant ride and wished them a good day. You were quick to arrive at your door, the apartment was one on the top floors, before unlocking it with the your key. The smile on your face vanished when you saw Natasha standing there with three people you had never met before. Your mood became a little sour as you didn't like that your surprise didn't go as you had planned. "Who are you?" You asked confused as nobody including your girlfriend made a move to introduce each other.

They stared at you with critical eyes, sizing you up and down as if you were a criminal or some other threat. The younger woman with blonde hair spoke up first. "Her family." Your heart stilled for a second thinking of meeting her family like this wasn't great but you dismissed everything quickly because you remembered that her family was dead. "No, that can't be. Her family died when she was young." You looked confused at Nat, then back at those strangers again. When nobody responded you got a bit anxious, Natasha wouldn't have lied about that right?

The man spoke up next, bringing you out of your head of spiraling thoughts. "Who are you?" But before you could answer that question happily, the other woman gave her thoughts to the situation. "She's most likely the roommate Natasha always talked about." Roommate. You whirled your head towards your red headed lover, looking baffled at her already guilty expression, pain appeared in your heart and you swore that nothing cut you as deep as the statement along with her silence and facial expression. You pursed your lips to hide how much she hurt you, it would be too embarrassing to throw a fit in front of her family. Natasha opened her mouth but before she got to speak you jumped in. "I just had a 15 hour flight and all I wanna do is take a shower and maybe a nap afterwards. I guess I see y'all later." You said to all of them before you fetched your suitcase and disappeared into the actual guest room that the two of you had for emergencies.

In the shower you sat down and let the water fall onto you. You overthought everything you thought you knew. It was obvious that it was her family, she lied about her parent dying. Why would she do that? And if she lied about that what else did she lie about? Evidently about your relationship. The roommate Natasha constantly talked about.. That statement hurt immensely. You couldn't understand why were a roommate, not even a very good friend no, just a fucking roommate. It made you angry, especially because you loved that woman deeply and it made you wonder if she actually loved you. You also deliberate about if you could ever forgive her about this betrayal.

After the long shower, your phone started ringing the second your t-shirt hit you body. It was strange for someone to call you at this hour but when you saw it was your friend Wanda you answered without a question. You couldn't get a hello out because she was talking fast. "Open your door, there's a surprise for you!" The excitement in her voice was refreshing after all the work talk you had done overseas for days. "Wands, I don't like surprises."

"I know and I'm sorry to do this to you but this one's really worth it. Please believe me and don't hang up!" You tried to put all the faith you had left in her and walked out of the guest room as held your phone against your ear. "I won't hang up don't worry." While you passed by the open kitchen-living room to get to the door, you felt the red head's and her family's intense eyes on you. You ignore them as you opened the door and there she stood, the great Wanda Maximoff with some tickets in her hands. She practically shoved them into your hands. Only then did you hang up the phone and looked at what the tickets were. Your eyes widen in shock before you threw yourself at Wanda, hugging her happily. Natasha jealously was seething so she decided to speak. "What is your ex doing here?"

You turned around smiling at her but not as bright as you had been a second before, you still waved the tickets with joy telling her what the tickets were for. "She got me tickets for a sold out Hayley Kiyoko show!!" Natasha knew how much that meant for you since you had never seen her live even though you had tickets for three concerts at one point. You hated it so much that your job always came in between the dates, making you sell your concert tickets of the singer that was your first crush and gay awakening. This whole situation gave Natasha another pang of jealousy, she should have been the one giving you the tickets, not your damn ex.

"The lesbian Jesus?" The blonde woman whose name you still don't know asked. You nodded and saw her face breaking into a proud expression. "Since when do you know that?" Natasha asked her sister in almost an insulting tone. "Kate Bishop, where else?" After Nat narrowed her eyes the blonde explained further with a shrug. "She told me that I need to widen my horizon in pop culture." At that you turned your attention back to Wanda, minding your own business while picking up your conversation again. "I- I'm.. thank you for the tickets Wands. I truly don't know how to thank you." She smiled at your overwhelmed but giddy state. "You could take me with you?" She joked as she also pointed to the tickets. You agreed to her idea incredibly fast, maybe a bit too fast considering that you had a girlfriend you usually asked and took with you to concerts. But in that split of a moment you didn't give a shit about asking her to go with you, going with your ex sounded way better. "It - it's tomorrow already. Wait, hold on. How'd you even know that I'd be back by then?"

"Oh yeah about that.. I might have talked with Josh." She smiled sheepishly. Josh was a mutual friend but also your co-worker. But you'd never have thought that Josh would talk about your (early) return. Especially since you told him you wanted to surprise everyone. "Are you lovebirds actually coming in or stay in the doorway all night?" Alexei teased you both, you didn't how how to feel about that. You were still together with his daughter and him teasing or shipping you with your ex was beyond something you thought you'd experience. The frown on Natasha face was something you didn't miss and you actually had to bite your tongue before saying something you'd regret. To your luck, because you knew biting your tongue wouldn't help for long, your lover pipped in. "They are ex-girlfriends and not lovebirds." She stated hard. Her father continued to reason with his daughter. "Doesn't have to mean anything Tasha bear. How often did your mother and I break up and got back together hmm?"

You ignored their conversation once again, turning to the red head that stood still in the doorway you told her to wait for you. "Let me switch pants and then we go get a drink somewhere yeah? That way we can catch up and they can continue having family time uninterrupted." Natasha wanted to interject, deny you going out with Wanda when she desperately wanted to explain herself but she feared that stopping you would dig her grave with you only deeper so she let you go. When you were about to leave, Yelena and Alexei teased you both a last time. You felt a bit bad for Natasha but it all were also a part of consequences of her actions. "Don't come home too late." Was the only thing she told you. You still heard Yelena's such a mom and Alexei's don't be a cockblocker Natasha through the door.

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

You were passed out in Wanda's arms as she carried you bridal style towards your apartment. It wasn't planned that you drank this much alcohol, but once you got a taste of it you just couldn't stop, it numbed your feelings and problems that you badly wanted to forget. Natasha was at the door quick, relieved when she saw you in Wanda's arms, she lead you both towards your bedroom watching how your ex put you on the bed gently.

"Thank you for bringing her home." She commented. The other woman only nodded before leaving fairly quickly, not wanting to be there in case you woke up which she knew was unlikely but didn't want it risk it anyways. Hungover you was something she did not want to witness ever again.

The next morning was rather midday by the time you woke up. You walked into the bathroom first, quickly peeing and splashing some water on your face before wandering to the kitchen, there you saw Natasha sitting at her kitchen counter with a coffee in one hand and her phone in the other hand. "Morning." You hummed grumpily, acknowledging her without actually talking to her. She huffed before she tried to talk to you again. "Y/N I-" Natasha started but you cut her off immediately. "I don't wanna talk."

"But I really-" Her next attempt to talk got quickly cut off by you again. "I SAID I DONT WANT TO TALK NATASHA!" You didn't yell, you simply rose your voice a bit to get your point across. She shut up afterwards. "Gosh just give me space before you ruin my day. I still have a concert to attend to." Your words and the situation cut her deep, it hurt to know this side of you - that she was the reason for bringing this out of you and inflicting (you) pain. She never wanted any of this.

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

After the incredible amazing concert you dragged Wanda into a bar to get some well deserved fries and drinks. It didn't last long until you spilled your relationship problems and some evil thoughts you had in your head. The cruelest one was to text Nat asking her if she'd give you permission to kiss another girl during Hayley's performance of Girls Like Girls. You'd never cheat but the itch to get back at her in some way for betraying you was big.

"I know you want to hurt Natasha back a bit because of what she did but is it really worth it? Wouldn't that just truly ruin your relationship?" Wanda was concerned about your state of mind and what you might would do. She knew how rash you were in doing something when you got hurt by someone close to you. "It's hardly a relationship if it's build on lies." You stated without any emotion in your voice and expression. This only showed her that her worries were valid. "Maybe she had a good reason for it." The red head tried so hard to see the positive but of course with your mood, nothing was getting to you.

"I can't think of a single good reason of why she'd lie about her parents passing. I also came up short when I thought of a reason of her hiding our relationship. Like I'd have understood if it were the same situation as it was in our relationship, when you were a baby gay with parents who oftentimes said homophobic remarks and you being afraid to come out. But her father and sister teased us lovebirds and it seemed very genuine, they weren't homophobic." At the mention of Wanda's past, she felt the need to voice her thoughts. "I still feel like they stopped with the remarks after catching Pietro watching gay porn." You gave her a tiny sad smile. "Well either way, at least you had the decency to tell your family that we were not only very good but also very close friends. I'm just a roommate to them."

"I'm sorry." She said it genuine, without any pity or whatsoever. You nodded but also sighed at her apology. "Not your fault Wanda. Don't apologize for something that's out of reach." It was quiet between the two of you for a long moment, eating and drinking to make it less awkward before you asked her if you could crash at her place. "Of course, you're always welcome." Later, right before you went to sleep, you texted your girlfriend that you'd stay at Wanda's for the night.

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

When you got home the next day, Natasha was nowhere to be found, it gave you enough time to ponder if you should simply break up with her and get all your things with you, it would have been a coward move on your part and you were already cowardly enough by staging away from her the night before. You quickly changed into a new set of clothes the grabbing your headphones and went into the kitchen, getting out ingredients from the cabinets to bake something, you still needed to distract yourself before facing Natasha.

The second she entered the apartment and heard movements she knew were only yours, she stopped dead in her tracks as she wasn't expecting you to the apartment yet. She thought that you were staying at Wanda's for a while longer but since you weren't she took the chance to finally talk to you and explain herself. You were startled by the tap on your shoulder, you hadn't heard her come back with the headphones on yours ears blasting angry rock-metal music. Pausing the music and taking the headphones from your ears, you turned around to face Natasha, she had messy hair with dark circles and bags underneath her eyes. It told you that she had a sleepless night.

"I don't want to talk." You told her simply because it irritated you that she disrupted your baking time. She groaned in frustration. "But I need to talk. Y/N I want to fix my mistakes, I want to fix us." She was desperate, you heard it in her voice, but that still didn't change your mind. "Maybe the magnitude of your mistakes are too big to fix." The words you said left her stunned. With the little courage she had left she asked you the important question. "Are you breaking up with me?"

"Not yet." It came out weak, nearly matching the weak tone of the question Natasha asked second before. A bit of relieve flooded her system but she was still tense m, fearing your answer to her next question. "What's holding you back?" You weren't sure if you wanted to let her know your reasons but you ended up opening anyways. "My gut and my trust in you."

The silence that followed was nearly deafening, the redheaded woman simply was at loss of words because it felt wrong for you to still have trust in her. "I haven't shattered your trust yet?"

"Hard to believe right? Despite all your lies I still trust you.. even if it's on a thin thread." There was another couple of minutes of silence before she finally could apologize without you cutting her off. "Then let me apologize because I really have to apologize for how the other day went down. I'm sorry for lying about my parents and that I lied to them about our relationship. I didn't mean to hurt you but I did and now I have to own it up." She started before moving to sit down on a chair. "It's true that my parents died at a young age. Who you saw was my foster family, we didn't always get along which resulted in me distancing myself from them for a decade. It wasn't until we were a year deep into a relationship that we started to have contact again."

"But why lie to them about us? Your father and sister seemed pretty open about homosexuals." You asked, still confused about certain things that needed to be cleared up.

"My plan was to ease them in telling how I'm not only queer but more so a lesbian. Last time I really knew them they were homophobic so I was surprised by their remarks. I hadn't met them in person for so long, I guess they changed a lot during that time." You took your hands in hers. It was a small gesture of you supporting her in quietness. "I'm sorry detka. I should have told you a long time ago about my foster family. And also that I told them you were my roommate."

"I just don't get it. Why tell them we're roommates and not friends?" It was the question that plagued your mind. She bit her lips then shaking her head and looking everywhere but at you. "It wouldn't have been believable. I always ruined all my friendships." You squeezed her hands in hope she'd look at you again and she did even if it was only for a few seconds. "Is there anything else you lied about?"

Her eyes rose to yours, this time you could see her bare soul laying out for you. She removed her hands from yours before answered honest. "Uhh.. my job?" It was barely a second that passed by before you shrieked out her full name. "Natalia Alianovna Romanova!" She squeezed her eyes shut as her name fell from your lips like you called her satan, then she fumbled with her hands until they found yours again. With an honest look in her eyes she apologizes again. "Y/N I'm really sorry okay."

"Sorry doesn't make it better! Natasha you do realize how fucked up this is right? Especially because we talk about work at dinner every other day. Gosh." You felt sick to your stomach when you thought back at the countless of conversations you had. "If-if you're not a secretary then what exactly do you do?"

"I'm actually a SHIELD agent." She leaned closer to you when she noticed your lack of response. When you did reply it made Natasha even more nervous, anxious even, she feared that you decide to break up with her right then and there. "A SHIELD agent?" You repeated calmly, a bit too calm for your girlfriend's liking, a calm person is always one to fear during a fight, they most likely are already done with everything. "A SHIELD agent." Natasha confirmed.

"Were you going to tell me?"

"At some point." You nodded then removed your hands from hers all while you were telling her you needed to go back to baking, you turned around finished your cupcakes. Natasha stood there awkwardly, not knowing what else to tell you or where to go. When the first batch of cupcakes were done you held one in between your fingers, you walked straight up to the redhead with no expression on your face, her heart pounded so wildly that it felt like she was going to die. "As much as I hate you right now, I'm still completely and utterly in love with you." You offered her the cupcake that she gladly accepted with a small smile. "I might be an idiot for even attempting to forgive you but I can honestly see us having a great and long future together."

"I want that. The long and great future with you, I mean." She looked down and smiled shyly

"Good. But it can only happen if you won't lie to me anymore Nat. I'd rather be hurt by the truth than comforted with a lie."

"Okay."

"Okay?" She nodded. "Good. Now come here and give me a kiss."

"Can I eat my cupcake first?" She asked with a twinkle in her eyes. You shook your heard, told her 'no' before you grabbed her head and kissed her like there was no tomorrow.

[cuubism]

I've written something very silly. Dating apps, texting fic, crack, smut. desire messing with dream. onlyfans creator hob. trans dream. Enjoy.

--

U up?

The notification from an unfamiliar app stared up at Dream from his locked phone screen. He frowned, perplexed. Nobody texted him. Certainly not with such vernacular.

Dream opened the notification. It pulled up the messaging page of a dating app, one he himself had certainly not installed—

Desire. He grit his teeth. Unfortunately, they weren’t nearby to receive his ire.

Dream looked again at U up? on the message interface. He clicked on the profile of the man who’d sent it, a “Kyle” who would not have looked out of place shotgunning a beer at a rager. Of course, Desire had not only gone to great lengths to establish him on this insipid app, but had also spent time matching him with the exact opposite of his type, presumably to cause him never-ending grief and annoyance. As usual.

Dream should probably have just deleted the app. Instead he responded, For?

What he received in response, a few minutes later, was a poorly-lit photograph of Kyle’s penis. Dream pinched his nose between thumb and forefinger with a sigh. He should have known.

I have seen better, he replied, and closed out of the app.

He had been back at his writing for ten minutes or so when his phone buzzed again. He checked the notification.

Brad: you could be MY good boy, kitty cat 😽

Dream gagged, but opened the man’s profile out of perilous, morbid curiosity.

Brad, 28, Hedge Fund Manager, “Looking for something casual on the DL”, likes golf and cryptocurrency— oh, dear. Somehow, Dream doubted this Brad truly wanted Dream to become a part of his life. Nor did Dream want to be his ‘kitty cat’.

He was going to have words with Desire.

You strike me as a man who brings choking into the bedroom without knowing what a safe word is, he wrote. Am I accurate?

I can choke you if you want, baby 😜, wrote Brad. Which may as well have been a yes.

Dream did not think that Brad was the person he wanted that from. Not to mention that his utter lack of kink safety knowledge would probably land Dream in hospital, and there were more interesting ways for that to happen than mediocre sex in a finance associate’s penthouse.

I would prefer to keep my brain cells, he wrote, and closed the app.

Over the next few days, Dream fielded many strange, annoying, and obscene messages from people on this app. He certainly had not “swiped right” on anybody himself, so he could only assumed Desire had done so on his behalf and had now left him to suffer the consequences of “matching.” By all rights, he should have just deleted the app off his phone. But Dream rarely communicated with anyone, certainly not strangers, and there was something a little bit entertaining about seeing what kind of drivel was being thrown his way. Was this how people attempted to court over the internet? Or perhaps Desire had merely “matched” him with the dregs of humanity.

By the end of the week, Dream had received seven “dick pics”, four offers to share one or more of his body parts in exchange for cash, and a request to become a seventy-five year-old man’s “sugar baby.” He was uncertain precisely what that entailed, but he was fairly certain he would not like it.

He had also received a text from Desire that read, enjoying yourself? ;) to which he did not respond.

His meager entertainment expended, Dream was on the verge of finally deleting the app when he received a different message:

Hob: Do you think it’s possible to cheat death by force of will, or are you too busy craving its sweet release to consider it?

Dream frowned, perplexed by the specificity of the message. Finally it occurred to him to actually look at the profile Desire had made. He swiped over to said screen, and sighed in aggravation.

Desire had, at least, chosen flattering photos of him. He supposed if the goal was to have Dream sexually harassed over the internet, this would have been a requirement. The photos definitely suggested something other than “serious, committed relationship”, but they weren’t terrible, at least.

As for the text—well, Dream finally understood where some of the more unhinged messages he had received had come from. He read through the given prompts, and Desire’s answers to them:

Dating me is like: You found a stray cat and brought it home and fed it and you were going to take it to the animal shelter but now it won't leave. It’s pretty cute if a bit mangy but it won’t stop biting your hand and mewing pathetically. The sex is pretty good tho.

“Pretty good.” Desire had written all this and couldn’t even manage to make Dream sound like a satisfying hookup. Typical.

He read on:

I’ll fall for you if: You tell me I’m a good boy 😳

Things were falling into place in Dream’s mind now.

Hob’s strange message seemed to arise from the main part of Dream’s profile, where Desire had listed his “religion” as “worshipping l’appel du vide.” An interesting element for this “Hob” to focus on. Dream did not think it was typical for messages on these apps to open with a discussion of death.

He switched back over to the messaging page of the app, and replied: I consider death often. As to your query, it depends: are you thinking of death as an entity one could escape, or a force like gravity? Or perhaps a place one must go?

Hmm, Hob responded, good question. I think it’s like a state. But a state of nothingness. See, if I thought it was a *place*, might be willing to go, see something new and all. But what’s the point of nothingness?

Nothingness is its own satisfaction, wrote Dream. It seemed peaceful, to him. Quiet. The lack of need for satisfaction in the first place.

But you won’t be there, so you won’t get to experience it, said Hob.

Precisely.

Huh. The void really is calling to you. You don’t like experience, then?

Is that innuendo? Dream asked.

Could be. If it is, do I get to be part of the toxic codependent relationship that ends horribly for everyone?

Another reference to Desire’s profile choices. What Dream was apparently “looking for in a relationship.”

That depends on the quality of your experience, he wrote.

I’ve received good reviews, said Hob.

You’ve yet to call me “kitten,” so I suppose I must concur on that front, replied Dream.

You started that one, little stray cat, said Hob.

Technically Desire had started it, but Dream had to grudgingly admit that his profile did invite such comments.

Having a smashing time in your dm’s, then? Hob continued.

I have received several unsolicited pictures of genitalia, wrote Dream.

Oh yeah? said Hob. Anything good?

Random strangers’ genitals did not interest Dream. There was a reason he did not watch porn. Mediocre at best, Dream said.

There was a long pause, and Dream hastily added, Do not send me a picture of your dick as comparison.

My dick is already all over the internet, you don’t need to get it here 😛, said Hob.

Dream blinked several times at his phone screen, as if to clear away a fog before a message that might make more sense.

What, he wrote.

Before Hob could reply, it occurred to Dream that perhaps he should actually look at Hob’s own profile. He had gotten too caught up in the strange conversation to remember to do so.

He opened it and— froze.

Dream had already deduced that Desire had intentionally matched him with whoever they thought Dream would be least interested in. He could see why they had thought the same of Hob, primarily because he was very different from Dream. In the past, Dream had tended to have flings with people who were rather like him, in some respects. “Tortured artists,” Death would say.

This was not Hob. For one, unlike Dream’s pouty and morose profile photo, Hob was actually smiling in the first picture on his page. And what a smile.

He was handsome, too. At least, Dream thought so. Handsome in a homey, comfortable way, the type of handsome that suggested really good hugs, and coffee in the mornings, and someone to come home to. Dream scrolled through more photos, and caught the spark of mischief in his eyes that belied his easy nature. This best matched the way Hob spoke in his messages, he thought.

It was not so much that Hob was his usual type, and more that Desire had unintentionally uncovered a type Dream had not known he had. He swallowed hard. Scrolled back up to read the details of Hob’s bio, in search of answers to the strangeness of Hob’s response.

Ah. His profession was listed as “OnlyFans creator.” That would explain it. He supposed he could track down Hob’s profile on said app. Dream was historically not very interested in porn, however. But he was finding himself interested in Hob.

He moved back to the messaging page, and wrote, before Hob could question why Dream was confused about information that was clearly stated in his profile, Ah. I see. I’m afraid I don’t watch porn.

That a moral stance? Bcuz I get enough of that already, trust me.

Personal taste, said Dream.

Prefer to get it in person, eh? said Hob.

Yes.

You’d do numbers on OnlyFans just fyi, Hob wrote. If u ever wanted more cash. Or does Poetry & Malaise pay better than I thought?

Dream’s “career,” according to Desire.

He supposed Hob's comment was flattering, in a way. Is that your own bias, Hob? Or your considered opinion as a professional?

Both ;), said Hob.

If that is your situation, then why are you on this app, dare I ask? Most people I have encountered seem to just be interested in sex but I doubt you are suffering from a dearth of it.

What, porn stars can’t want to get married? :(

Dream could imagine his pout. It was surprisingly endearing.

THAT is why you are here?

Sure, be judgmental about it, mister “I want to get consumed.” Or was that about vore and I misread it as metaphorical?

Dream spluttered, though Hob was not physically present to see it. Indeed, Desire had written that Dream wanted “someone he could consume and be consumed by in turn,” which was surprisingly accurate considering its intention had been to mess with him.

It is not VORE, he wrote. Then followed it up with, I have frequently been accused of being intense, possessive, and overbearing.

Well then we have that in common, Hob replied. By the way, sex for work is not the same as sex with someone you really care about. Or would you feel emotionally fulfilled after fucking your colleagues?

I don’t have colleagues, said Dream.

Right, right. Poetry and malaise.

And have you achieved much emotionally fulfilling sex from this app?

No :(, said Hob.

You are too handsome for that to be the case, wrote Dream, and realized what he had said a moment after he’d hit send.

He panicked internally until Hob replied, And here I thought I was just annoying you 🥰.

I might be having a crisis over your photos myself, Hob added, but let’s not discuss it or I’ll embarrass myself.

We could discuss it in a different venue, Dream wrote, heart in his throat. I am interested also in hearing your plans to thwart death. Perhaps over drinks?

Thought you’d never ask :)

So they set a time.

--

Drinks turned quickly into tumbling into Hob’s flat turned quickly into Hob pushing Dream up against the door and kissing him senseless turned quickly into falling into Hob’s bed. Dream was feeling quite happy about his decision to go on a date with this weird, death-obsessed OnlyFans creator. He had been right about Hob giving good hugs, he had learned that when Hob had greeted him at the bar. He had also learned that Hob really knew how to use his tongue.

“Fuck, Dream,” Hob said, looking up at him, lips wet. He had his hands wrapped around Dream’s thighs and his face between Dream’s legs, and yes, Dream was feeling very satisfied with his decision, indeed. He might even have to send Desire a gift basket. “You taste so good.”

“Your mouth is ungodly,” said Dream, tipping his head back against the pillow with a groan as Hob continued teasing him with that mouth, swiping his tongue through Dream’s folds and sucking on his clit.

“Converted you to a new religion? You’re done with the void, then?”

Dream twisted his hands in Hob’s hair, holding on tight, thighs trembling, heartbeat racing in his throat. “Perhaps.”

“Is Dream your real name, by the way?” Hob asked, pushing one finger into Dream, and then quickly two, as Dream moaned and clenched down on him. “I kind of thought it was fake.”

“No,” said Dream, though it came out as another moan. “It is real.”

“Fascinating.” And he went back to torturing Dream with his mouth, fucking him deep on his fingers, until Dream was squirming and writhing under him, trying to get away from Hob’s relentlessness even as he wanted to throw himself into its fire. He felt hot, feverish, taut all over, Hob’s hands were so good, and his mouth—

“Hob,” he whined, “please.”

Hob paused, looked up at him, lips and nose wet with Dream’s fluids. Then grinned cheekily. “Yes, kitten?”

And why did something that had sounded so revolting coming from anonymous strangers only make Dream laugh when Hob said it? He laughed, a horrible, choking laugh, and Hob laughed too, incredulously. Dream could not remember ever laughing during sex, it had always been a torrid and serious affair. But Hob was so charming and handsome and Dream wanted to kiss him.

“Come,” he commanded, drawing Hob up towards him by his hair, and Hob went, and Dream brought their lips together. Hob’s mouth was slick and tasted of Dream. It was heady.

Dream wrapped a leg around his waist and pulled him closer until their bodies were pressed together, and Hob ground his cock between Dream’s legs, between his folds and against his clit. He didn’t try to actually fuck Dream, though, which Dream figured was Hob’s professional good sense considering they hadn’t discussed birth control or anything in that vein in their haste. He imagined what might have happened if he had instead gone home with Brad of the un-negotiated choking kink, and laughed despite himself.

“What are you laughing at?” asked Hob, lifting his head to look at him. He really was so appealing, with his dark eyes, hair falling long over his forehead, his voice that was much more honey-warm than Dream could have imagined over text.

“I was thinking of the catastrophe that would have resulted had I slept with one of the questionable individuals I’ve encountered on that app, and my good fortune in finding you instead.”

Hob smiled, and kissed him, a proper first date type kiss, sweet and kind. Then he said, dragging his hand through Dream’s hair, tugging on it, “Don’t think about anyone else.” He kissed Dream’s jaw, then down his neck, nipping at his skin.

Dream dug his nails into Hob’s back, into his strong shoulders as Hob ground against him. He wished Hob was fucking him. His cock felt so good even just moving between Dream’s legs, and the weight of his body over Dream’s was so grounding. Next time, maybe.

He shivered as Hob moved faster over him, claimed his mouth with a hard kiss. “Come on me,” Dream urged, pulling Hob in tighter again with his leg wrapped around his waist. He reached between them and got his hand around Hob, and Hob groaned.

“Dream—”

Dream pulled him off in time with Hob’s own thrusts, and soon felt Hob’s hips stuttering, his grip tightening in Dream’s hair. He came over Dream’s hand and stomach, breathing hard against Dream’s throat. But he didn’t pause very long to recover himself, instead slipping three fingers back into Dream, making Dream arch against him with a shout.

“Hob!”

Hob worked him mercilessly until Dream was clenching around him with a gasp, body shaking as his orgasm ramped back up and hit him, fast and hard. Hob grinned against his throat as Dream panted, then gently pulled his fingers free and raised his head to look Dream in the eye as he brought them to his mouth and sucked them clean of Dream’s spend. Fucking. Hell. And this man couldn’t find someone to marry him?

Hob kissed him again, and again it was sweet, and firm, like his hugs. Dream kissed him back, petting Hob’s hair. Pleased with the position he’d found himself in. Pleased with Hob.

“Good?” Hob asked, stroking a hand up and down his side.

“Very,” Dream sighed.

“Good,” said Hob. “For me, too.”

He kissed Dream’s cheek, and then went and got a soft wet cloth to clean them both up, and even brought Dream a glass of water. Truly Dream’s good fortune was unparalleled on this day.

Hob slipped back into bed beside him, and Dream laid on his side, head pillowed on his arm, gazing at him. Tucked an errant strand of Hob’s hair behind his ear. Ran his fingers over the stubble on Hob’s cheek. He really was quite handsome, especially mussed from sex, in the low bedroom light. Perhaps Dream was going to have to find his OnlyFans. Just so he could… take this home with him.

“You really are even prettier in person,” Hob murmured, studying him. “Although I don’t think the rest of your profile was really doing you justice.”

“That is because my sibling initially created it to annoy me,” Dream admitted. “However, I think I am the one who’s come out on top in the end.”

“That does explain some things,” Hob said with a chuckle. He took Dream’s hand and kissed his fingertips, met his eyes again. “I promise I won’t break your heart. If you stay.”

My BFF’s take on why you should date me, Desire’s profile fills had read: With luck you can be the next person to break his heart <3

Once again, it had not been entirely inaccurate. But perhaps it would be this time.

“I think I am inclined to,” he said quietly, and Hob smiled, that warm, endearing smile.

So Dream did stay that night, cuddled up in Hob’s arms. Feeling all warm inside, even when Hob had fallen asleep, and Dream was still awake, lying beside him. He often had a hard time sleeping, but he didn’t mind so much, right now. Hob was pleasant to cuddle up to, even if Dream couldn’t sleep. Hob was pleasant all around, in fact. Dream tended to fall fast and hard and he could already feel it hovering over him like a cresting wave. Fortunately, Hob didn’t seem inclined to be any more casual about him than Dream was feeling about him.

Dream thought he could get used to this.

With Hob’s arm still wrapped around his waist, Dream swiped his phone off the nightstand and opened his text thread with Desire, which still had enjoying yourself? ;) as the last message, as yet not responded to.

Having made Desire wait for several days already, Dream wrote, with a little smile, I think I am going to get married, and turned off his phone.

[jazzyoranges]

Afternoons - drabble

Jenna Ortega x gn!reader

Summary: you miss Jenna terribly

Words: 0.5k

A/n: technically part two of Mornings, but can be read as it’s own drabble. there’ll be a third part soon :)

Mornings | Afternoons | Nights

You miss hanging out with Jenna everyday.

Your weeks were always filled with cute little dates and fun little kisses. Ever since she’s had to move to the big apple for work, you’ve missed her touch for a solid 6 months.

Afternoons were the especially boring. Nobody to hang out with due to their work, so you’re stuck at home contemplating the meaning of life on the rug of your living room. You felt like the kid from Home Alone.

Everything felt dull without her. Any other day you’d kill for a resting day just watching movies with Jenna, but the weeks just felt empty without her.

Sure, you were busy with your own career as a musician, but Jenna’s absence has caused quite the halt in your song-writing abilities. There were a few ideas floating around in your head here and there, but nothing’s felt right about them.

Lyrics that lacked meaning, and songs that lacked lyrics. It was a cycle. Write, crumble it up, cry over missing your super cool and cute girlfriend (required), and repeat the process until you realize it’s maybe better to draft on a laptop than killing an entire forest of trees.

Groaning with disappointment, you just wanted to hear Jenna’s voice again. Luckily your phone only rings for a few seconds before being picked up on the other end. You’d be deprived of your girlfriend no longer!

Jenna picks up, and she’s doing her nighttime skincare routine before giving you a virtual kiss over the phone

“I missed you so much, Jennnn~” You pout, and your girlfriend can only laugh

“We called like, yesterday, babe”

“I’m failing to see your point”

“I missed you a bunch, today. More than usual”

“You mean I’m not on your mind 24/7, Ortega?” Feigning anger, Jenna rolls her eyes

“I gotta have room for other things, love. Don’t worry, you take up all the extra space”

“Like cytoplasm!”

“What.”

“Cytoplasm. Holds all the organelles together” You say like it’s the most obvious thing ever

“Sure if it makes you feel better, you’re the cytoplasm that holds all my thoughts together” Jenna doesn’t miss how your eyes sparkle. She liked indulging in your interests

“Wow, that was poetic.” You sit in your chair, a little giddy at her compliment. Your girlfriend always knew how to do that

“Maybe you should start writing all my songs”

“Like that one guy from Coco? Absolutely not.”

“Awh, why not? We’d be so good!”

“I’ve seen the movie, babe. You kill me for my amazing songs and take all the credit”

“Please, that doesn’t sound like something I’d do”

“Mhm, if it helps you sleep better at night” Jenna rolls her eyes again, and you can’t help but laugh

“Anyways, I gotta sleep now. Night-night, love.” Jenna kisses you virtually again, and you swear there’s phantom kisses on your forehead

“Goodnight, babe. Love you”

“Love you more” Your girlfriend quickly responds before hanging up

Unbeknownst to her, you’d have the last laugh soon enough

[graciereadshannigram]

hey fam, welcome to the October round up of all my favorite fics i read this month!!

as a reminder: the ingredients for a five star rating typically (but not always!!) include some combination of a.) believable characterizations of both Hannibal and Will, b.) compelling plot and/or character arcs, and c.) high quality smut.

that being said, my judgment of the aforementioned ingredients is powered almost exclusively by vibes and as such, is incredibly subjective.

you can find past recs below:

February March April May June July August September

and if you have any recs of your own for me, PLEASE SHARE.

without further ado, let's go!

Mine to Touch by piginapoketuesday

Word Count: 14193 Summary: "You respond so well to hand feeding," Hannibal said, watching Will's hips squirm. "I'm considering binding you for every meal."Will's neck flushed with fear. Never being allowed to feed himself again. Learning to associate food with a swollen, untouched cock. Swallowing prettily and on command. His body betrayed him, and he moaned around the fork in his mouth.~Lots of constant stimulation, feeding kink, and orgasm denial. Also lots of love and care.

So I might have a handfeeding kink. Possibly. Who's to say?

A Game for Two by sourweather

Word Count: 7710 Summary: One Long Game. That's what their relationship has always been. And the game never seems to end, which suits them just fine.Some unhinged murder husband content for the soul

Pretty much anything from this author ends up getting a five star rating, and this one was no exception.

Focus and Curiosity by hesterbyrde

Word Count: 7029 Summary: If someone had told Will two months ago that he would wind up regularly sleeping with his psychiatrist, he would have laughed in their face. Not just once, but twice. First for the absurdity of the idea in general. Just the thought of someone carrying on a sexual relationship with their therapist was ridiculous. Never mind that it would also be wildly unethical and illegal. But then he would also laugh at the sheer thought of having a psychiatrist in the first place. He'd avoided them like the plague all his adult life, and largely succeeded save the required eval after he'd been stabbed in the line of duty back when he was a cop. Needless to say that hadn't gone well.But this arrangement with Hannibal Lecter was going very well, strangely enough. Hannibal seemed content to let Will steer the course of his therapy. When Will didn't feel like talking, Hannibal would keep the conversation superficial. Or they would talk about whatever case Will was currently working on for Jack. And when Will did feel like talking, he had to admit some of Hannibal's insights into the quandary of his personality were actually enlightening. And it didn't hurt that the sex was amazing.

THIS BETTER NOT AWAKEN ANYTHING IN ME. Deadass, this inspired me to upgrade my own nipple clamps, so. Do with that information what you will.

Quiet Asphodel by FKAHerSweetness

Word Count: 174475 Summary: Once upon a time, there was a great and just king. This king, long ago, adopted a son and groomed the young prince to hunt monsters that roamed the kingdom. One day, the prince comes upon a monster of wild proportions, both fierce and courteous. The prince vows to the monster: 'I will capture you, as my father bids me.' The monster makes his own vow to the prince: 'I will wed you, as my heart bids me.'

Holy fucking shit. Once again, a deeply uncomfortable and awesome read. Again, nobody is good in this fic. But with my whole chest, FUCK Jack Crawford.

Much Ado About Knotting by l3moncoffee

Word Count: 3352 Summary: “We have a warrant to search the premises!”“Surely you could have knocked,” Hannibal Lecter said, wrapping a protective arm around his Omega.—————————————————— The FBI & Baltimore City Homicide have their sights on the Lecters, a bonded Alpha-Omega pair suspected of torturing and cannibalizing their victims.A strike team is assembled to catch them red-handed, but they run into some unexpected knots along the way.

I need more of this. STAT.

Heart's Desire by Celinesits

Word Count: 34514 Summary: COMPLETEWhat if Hannibal Lecter was given a Love Potion that led him straight to Will Graham? Spending two weeks with your Heart’s Desire is a dream come true.Meanwhile, Will Graham is fulfilling his public duty by staying with Hannibal, but being smothered in affection forces Will to confront his increasingly confused feelings for Doctor Lecter. Thank you if you have supported this story- kudos and comments/bookmarks are so kind x ❤️Based on the characters created by Thomas Harris, and Hannibal TV show creator Bryan Fuller.

I loved how well this was executed, enough that I can forgive the very brief overlap with HP/FBWTFT. Also, very in character Hannibal.

double by YouAreMyDesign

Word Count: 3961 Summary: It took a long time before Will grew from actively fighting these gifts, to resigned acceptance, to eager anticipation. It's just one of those things that comes with dating Hannibal Lecter; gifts are a given. And Hannibal, he soon realized, loves seeing Will in things he's bought.

We see dom Will Graham and we black out.

Patience and Precision by hesterbyrde

Word Count: 6253 Summary: Will drove himself straight from the crime scene to Hannibal's house. He wasn't even halfway up the porch steps when the door cracked open to reveal Hannibal's chiseled face, his features all the sharper with lines of confusion and concern."Will, I wasn't expecting you. Is everything alright?" he asked, pulling the door open to allow Will inside.Will took in the sight for a moment, making a slow fuss of taking off his coat and brushing his shoes on the mat. Hannibal was not in a suit. Not even in casual wear. Rather he was wearing a pair of soft grey lounge pants and a cable knit red sweater. Will had the sudden urge to press his face into the fabric and see if the crimson yarn was as soft as it looked.

Nipple clamps are my kryptonite.

pick up your phone by abbymyg

Word Count: 1404 Summary: Alana calls Will at an inopportune time.

A reread!! I love this one so much.

Recognition by StratsWrote

Word Count: 3910 Summary: The video was simple, a man sat in a high-back chair with his legs spread and his hand between them. He had a magnificent cock, uncut, red, thick. Will loved that cock. He worshipped it in his mind. And watching it now, Will groaned in pleasure, sinking deeper into the bed with his own hand stroking himself.  Will has a certain porn actor he's a fan of. He's never seen his face, but he knows every breath and groan and whimper he makes. When he meets Dr. Lecter, a consultant on the Shrike case, Will doesn't find him particularly interesting until in the midst of saving a life, he hears the same sighs and hums he's pleasured himself to coming from the doctor next to him.

Oh ideal. This was so hot.

Housekeeping by FKAHerSweetness

Word Count: 96562 Summary: Marriage is a creature living separate from its components. Yet it requires attention, tolerance and care. Have you seen it? Could you recognize its deep wounds - and which one of you inflicted them? And are they ready to heal? What do you really know about this illusory animal?

Holy shit. When I say this fic got under my skin in the best way possible, I truly mean that. Will is terrible. Honestly, so is Chilton. Hannibal is also not great. This is a story about not great people, but like a car crash, I simply couldn't look away. I love erotic psychological horror and this was ticking all of the boxes for me.

The Accident by TigerPrawn

Word Count: 1369 Summary: Sharing a bed results in unexpected intimacy.

And there was only one bed!!! I love.

Moth to the Flame by hannibae

Word Count: 4324 Summary: Will breathes out a laugh, arching his back in surprise when Hannibal presses the dry pad of a finger over his hole. “Nah,” he lets out, shaky and unsure, “I’ve been high before, but I’ve never—God, everything you do is perfect, isn’t it? Are you bad at anything?” It all feels too nice, Hannibal’s body solid and perfect against his own, his hands squeezing and kneading his flesh, his hips working up against Will’s own. It’s exactly how it shouldn’t be with Hannibal.

stoned Hannigram is absolutely delightful, this was so fucking HOT.

The Strangest Thing by foggys_cupcake_girl

Word Count: 3562 Summary: Will Graham is used to coming home and seeing his husband doing odd things, but he's never come home to find him with his head in a bag of Cheetos, with his hand down the toilet, or lying bare-naked in the living room after a shower.Or, that one where Hannibal tries to do a nice thing and ends up in way, WAY over his head.

STONED HANNIGRAM IS ABSOLUTELY DELIGHTFUL.

Remember Me, I Ask by HigherMagic

Word Count: 10795 Summary: "Part of me was worried you were dead."It's not what he expected to hear, and Will's throat goes tight. The sheath of it is slicked with honey and afterburn, and his fingers flex on the arms of the chair. "You didn't used to let fear of consequences affect you," he replies."Until you."Settled into his life with Duncan, Will is ready to leave everything behind. Until Hannibal breaks out of prison. Will knows his time is limited.

This felt very in character, and was also hot as fuck.

Healthy Curiosity by orphan_account

Word Count: 1267 Summary: Restless, Abigail sneaks off to her fathers' bedroom in the middle of the night seeking comfort. She instead puts some of her curiosities to rest.

Fuck me, I do love voyeurism.

Teach Me a Lesson (Already Learned) by whenitstarted

Word Count: 3142 Summary: Will being married to Molly and cheating on her with Hannibal.

A reread that is still fabulous.

the leather runs smooth by drpeaceandlove

Word Count: 4960 Summary: "Are you... encouraging me to sleep with Molly?" Will kept his intent gaze trained upon Hannibal's face, finding that - even through his abilities to empathise with others - he could not discern anything wrong about Hannibal's current demeanour.A feline grin unfurled upon Hannibal's lips and he let out a faint exhalation of amusement, capturing Will's lips in yet another kiss."I am merely advising you, my dear." Hannibal insisted - something Will did not at all believe - and brought his hand back, much to Will's dismay. That disappointment was short-lived, however, when Hannibal began unbuckling the leather belt looped through Will's jeans. "Now, shall we begin our session?"----Or, Hannibal and Will are interrupted by a call during one of their therapy sessions.

Anything involving being railed while on a phone call is gonna make me INCREDIBLY happy.

All the Things that Make a Sound by sourweather

Word Count: 3330 Summary: Hannibal gets an unexpected call from Will while he's in prison. They don't speak, Will just wants Hannibal to listen.

Will calling Hannibal while Hanni's in prison to make him listen while Will fucks Molly? Amazing. Wish I could give this more than one star.

I Hope You'll Feed Me by DorianThey

Word Count: 3473 Summary: Trans!Will Graham hates getting his period, but Hannibal loves taking care of him while he’s bleeding. Especially when Will needs an endorphin boost…

This was hot. That's all.

Cuisine Euphonique by thecountessolivia

Word Count: 35321 Summary: Nightmares brought on by a gruesome case lead Will to some unorthodox therapy in the form of a YouTube cooking channel.[Completed]

So this was a reread and I'm still obsessed with it.

Instinct by solarteacup

Word Count: 5329 Summary: Hannibal took another sip of wine, then reached out with both hands to cup Will’s face. He moved slowly, intentionally. His fingers caressed from the point of Will’s chin through the coarse dark hair of his beard, fanning out to his cheeks. When his fingertips reached Will’s ears, he stopped, cradling Will’s jaw in his palms while his thumbs brushed against old scars. He smiled, eyes moving from Will’s reflective gaze down to his slightly parted lips. “Instinct is nothing more than lessons learned and skills acquired over millions of years of self-preservation. Genetic patterns built to keep us alive without thinking. Legs to run or kick, arms to climb or scratch…” “And mouths to bite?” Will spoke low, eyes darting across Hannibal’s, unsure where to settle his gaze. Hannibal hummed. “The mouth serves many, many purposes." ______________ aka Hannibal gives Will anatomy lessons on what he and his mouth were built for.

Oh dear. I fear this has awoken something in me.

it’s only a matter of time before we all burn by madeofbees

Word Count: 11963 Summary: help, please voice cracking 2:13am blinking the world on and off. The flashing he couldn’t trust the time a power outage a will outage he needed to check his phone couldn’t tolerate hannibal away from his ear  what do you need will heavy with sleep composed and solid propping will up keeping him from flying apart, shattering like a fragile teacupi need you to make it stop—will has a panic attack, hannibal fixes it

THIS WAS SO FUCKING GOOD AND SO FREAKIN' HOT.

you are the shower of light i devour by madeofbees

Word Count: 26255 Summary: Will has spent his life on suppressants, living as a beta, repressing as much of his sexuality as he can. It’s easier, raises fewer questions. But suppressants only work so well for so long, and chronic overuse only makes the eventual heat worse. Still, he rests easy knowing that he’s perceived as a beta, and therefore is safe.Until his psychiatrist casually mentions it’s been a while since his last heat, and does he require any assistance?Yes, actually. He does.—Almost exclusively smut, with a dash of trauma!angst, heavily seasoned with obliviously and incorrectly assumed one-sided feels.

I do adore a good chronic overuse of suppressants leads to an intense heat trope.

looked up at the sky and it was maroon by madeofbees

Word Count: 15852 Summary: Will accidentally sends Hannibal a dick pic and Hannibal loses his shit. That’s it that’s the story.eta: now with edits!

i LOVE Hannibal nearly setting his home on fire because of a dick pic from Will. absolutely amazing, 10/10.

Doctor Lecter’s Fabulously Buff Investigator by TheSilverQueen

Word Count: 5625 Summary: Online conferences due to the quarantine are how Doctor Lecter's colleagues learn that: 1) Doctor Lecter has a beautiful home; 2) Doctor Lecter is married; and 3) Doctor Lecter's husband is fabulously buff.

This was very silly and I loved it.

I Only Have Eyes For You by sourweather

Word Count: 3827 Summary: Will gets so, so bored at Hannibal's dinner parties. But they're dating, so he can't exactly say no. So one night, he decides to have some fun, and tries to make Hannibal jealous by flirting with one of the guests. It doesn't go how Will expected.

Another re-read, another one that's still incredible.

Caught in the Act by UndeadRobby

Word Count: 2829 Summary: A collection of oneshots where Hannibal and Will get caught in... compromising positions.

Amazing.

Will Graham's Unconventional Health Care Proxy by UndeadRobby

Word Count: 3383 Summary: "It appears our dear friend Will Graham was in an accident, and is currently unconscious at Johns Hopkins. They needed someone to consent to continued treatment on his behalf, now that they have completed the actively life-saving treatment.”Frederick blinks. “And… he listed you as his healthcare proxy? Not, oh, I don’t know, his wife? Jack Crawford? Alana Bloom? A dog?”

Hannibal being Will's healthcare proxy and rubbing it in everyone else's face is hysterical and I loved it.

Like a Room Without a Roof by halotolerant

Word Count: 52881 Summary: Will is an awkward, single Submissive who has to get a temporary partner so he can pass an Alignment Health Assessment for his job. Hannibal is a Dom agreeable to low-level ‘sessions’ in which no sex or feelings will get involved.None of that works out quite to plan.

This was such a fun take on a BDSM AU!!

Make the world go quiet - sensory deprivation by Incidentsofunknownorigins

Word Count: 6071 Summary: Back in America 4th of July weekend,Will is triggered by fireworks and past trauma, Hannibal finds a way to distract him.

Trauma response mitigated by sex? Say less. Also written by a friend!

Hummingbird by sourweather

Word Count: 5416 Summary: Will and Hannibal have been seeing each other for a few months. They're keeping things pretty casual, sneaking around behind closed doors. Until Will finds out he's pregnant with Hannibal's baby.

This was fluffy goodness.

Pupping Season. by TheDarkestMindWithin

Word Count: 2377 Summary: Will's ready for pups, Hannibal remains adamant he is not.

This is exactly what I want out of a non-con scenario, holy SHIT. This was also a reread.

Captive by sixtieshairdo

Word Count: 1436 Summary: “What would Franklyn do if he saw you like this?” He relishes the way he can feel Hannibal’s cock twitch inside him whenever he clenches around him just a little tighter. “What would Jack do if he saw you like this?” The thought that Jack would disapprove of his relationship with Hannibal only makes Will spread his thighs wider, fucking down onto Hannibal’s cock faster, mind-drunk on how he can hear the sounds of his ass cheeks clapping. He’s fully naked, the way Hannibal likes him to be, and Hannibal’s mostly dressed – except for his pants around his knees – the way Will likes him to be. He can’t imagine what his sweaty knees are doing to the leather under him, but he knows Hannibal wouldn’t hesitate to keep the desecrated furniture in his office as evidence of their sordid affairs.

Fake relationship? Featuring a jealous Franklyn?? Catnip.

Hanni's Boy by Ishxallxgood

Word Count: 4648 Summary: Franklyn Froideveaux falls in love at first sight with none other than our friendly neighborhood empath. The only problem is, the object of his affections already has a partner. What is a man to do? Stalk the shit out of and emulate said partner of course. And it doesn't hurt that the man's partner just so happens to be Franklyn's very own psychiatrist Doctor Hannibal Lecter.Pure crack inspired by Jessie's Girl

This was so perfect, everything I wanted.

Savor You by Murder_Cupcake

Word Count: 585 Summary: Hannibal wants to pleasure Will, who's pregnant, heavy and embarrassed.

This was so so so hot.

in the truly gruesome do we trust by sidnihoudini

Word Count: 9473 Summary: Hannibal and Will have murder husbands mind palace sex, and Alana watches obsessively. A slow, sneaky grin slides its way across Will’s face as he looks up at Hannibal and teases, “You enjoy being watched.” “Does a lion eat its prey while it is still alive?” Hannibal asks rhetorically, an amused quirk to his lips. He drags his elbows against the silk sheets, letting himself rest his weight on them so he can comfortably brush his fingers through Will’s curls. After a pause, he drops his head, and presses his open mouth to Will’s. He pulls back a fraction, and breathes, “Yes.” Fully smiling now, sharp and uncontrolled, Will arches up against Hannibal’s body, and asks, “Does that make me the lion, or the prey?” “You are simply part of the pride,” Hannibal murmurs.

This. Was. So. Hot.

aaaand that's a wrap for October!! have fun babes!!

[project-sonadow]

Fate?

Summary: Sonic never cared about soulmates, but in a world where everyone had a red string of fate wrapped around their finger, Sonic decided to wear gloves.

Read the rest below!

To put it bluntly, Sonic had never cared about soulmates.

He wasn’t exactly unique in this mindset. In this modern day and era, it was only slightly progressive to spend your entire life without ever meeting your other half, let alone devoting your life to them. Radical ideas, such as platonic soulmates, familial soulmates, or even soulmates being bad if you ended up paired with the wrong person were common talking points in the general public and media. That red string of fate which had governed entire lives in the past no longer seemed critical to most people.

Sonic didn’t care about any of that either. In fact, until he started hanging around populated human areas more often, he didn’t realize there was so much controversy about it. He always lived how he wanted, paying barely any attention to the subject. 

-

Sonic’s friends all had very different opinions about soulmates.

Tails was kind of like him, in that he didn’t care about the red string encircling his pinkie and leading to a far-off point in the distance- or, at least, he pretended not to. Amy had been heartbroken that she and Sonic weren’t soulmates, before deciding to prove to Sonic and the world that true love couldn’t be predetermined by fate (her words, not his). Knuckles didn’t want to leave his duty for long enough to find his soulmate, and had admitted to Sonic once that he felt bad for whoever his soulmate was. Cream was excited to find her soulmate when she got older, but wasn’t under any illusion that it was a requirement for happiness in life, considering that her own mother was forever trailed by her own cut string, dragging limply on the ground, and seemed just fine despite that. Blaze and Silver both viewed it as a luxury that they couldn’t indulge in (ironic, because their shared red string of fate was apparently strong enough to cross through time and dimensions). Vector didn’t care about it at all, considering that he had his eyes set on Vanilla. Espio thought it would get in the way of his “duties as a ninja”, whatever that meant. Charmy just didn’t like the idea of relationships in general. Rouge hated the concept in general, Shadow refused to talk about it, and Omega said he would refuse to accept his soulmate unless they were willing to help him destroy Eggman. Big had a gentle kind of apathy towards his string. Whisper didn’t talk much about the subject to begin with, and considering that she wore blocker gloves 24/7 people didn’t ask her about it. 

Tangle…

Well, it seemed like she was trying very hard to convince herself that she didn’t care about the idea of never finding her soulmate. 

“I just don’t get why everyone thinks it’s such a big deal, y’know. Like it’s great if you do find your soulmate, and in a tiny village like mine half the soulmates are paired up before they’re teenagers, but it’s not like you need to do it! My moms aren’t soulmates and they’re doing just fine!”

Tangle’s moms were currently divorced and trying to rekindle their relationship, but Sonic decided not to bring that up.

“And then we have to throw a huge stupid party everytime someone comes back from vacation with their soulmate in tow, and I just. Ugh. We all make such a big deal out of getting to choose how to live our own lives, but we’re all born with this stupid string around our pinkies and told to go off and find the other end. It’s so annoying.”

This probably wasn’t what was actually bothering her, Sonic thought. It was probably the fact that one day her string had stopped moving by itself, only responding to Tangle’s own body, and currently led to a forest in the middle of nowhere with nobody at the other end. It was probably the fact that her soulmate had apparently been the type of person to try on a pair of blocker gloves one day and then never take them off.

Sonic thought about Whisper. About the blocker gloves she never took off, the way she started fiddling with them whenever Tangle was around. The way she looked so anxious whenever Tangle grabbed her by the hand and started running, like she was scared Tangle would pull the glove clean off. The way Tangle and Whisper looked at each other, in general.

Like always, he wondered if he should tell Tangle what he thought.

Like always, he decided against it.

“If you want a huge stupid party, I can always just throw you one, soulmate or no soulmate,” he said instead. “Hell, if you really want, we could pretend that we’re soulmates just to rub it in your town’s face.”

Tangle fake-gagged, and Sonic took fake-offense to that.

“Like you’re one to talk, Mr. Celebrity,” she said, and Sonic drew himself back a little, spines involuntarily bristling. “Whenever people talk about soulmates you just roll your eyes and say some shit about ‘living free’ and ‘going with the flow’. Do you really not want to find your soulmate? It would be easy for you.”

Sonic rolled his eyes, and then instantly realized what he had done when Tangle started laughing at him. He hastily cleared his throat. “Don’t know if there’s anyone who would be able to keep up with me.”

“I know at least three people who can go about as fast as you can,” Tangle said, punching his shoulder lightly. “C’mon, if you really didn’t care that much you wouldn’t wear those stupid blocker gloves all the time.”

Oh, so she had noticed. “Eh, I mostly wear these because I tend to get mobbed by crazy  fangirls if I don’t. If I make it obvious I’m not really available then most people won’t attempt to tell me that they’re totally different from the hundreds of other people who have been convinced we’re meant to be over the years.”

Tangle narrowed her eyes at that. “Crazy fangirls? Like Amy?”

“Crazier.”

“Wow, scary,” Tangle said, and then moved on to talking about how her own friends had set up a Sonic fanclub once, and the conversation moved on from there, and Sonic was glad he didn’t have to talk about it anymore. 

-

So yeah, Sonic wore blocker gloves, and yeah, it was so he wouldn’t be harassed about the subject whenever he showed his face in public, or when journalists ambushed him on the streets, or people edited photos of him to make it seem like he had a thin red line coming down from his pinkie and leading to some stranger in the photo. It was convenient. It was easy.

It was even mostly the truth.

Sonic knew a couple other people who wore blocker gloves- Blaze studiously kept hers on to keep up a vaguely professional air, even when her cheeks flamed fire-red every single time Silver so much as existed in her general vicinity, Espio had his on so the string couldn’t get in the way of his “duties as a ninja” (seriously, what the hell did that mean), Vector occasionally wore them on the job and had made half-hearted attempts to get a pair for Charmy, which kept on being mysteriously lost. Rouge and Shadow both wore a pair, presumably because of their super-secret spy jobs that Sonic wasn’t supposed to know about (glowing red strings which could phase through any solid object would probably make hiding difficult, he figured), and Omega had found a way to simply turn his string off, somehow, which was more impressive and terrifying than anything else Sonic had seen him do. 

The only person Sonic knew who steadfastly refused to wear blocker gloves was Vanilla, despite the troubles she sometimes saw because of them. She was a single mother whose string had been cut by an untimely death, and she didn’t care who knew it. She lived each day of her life with a bright, happy, genuine smile on her face.

She was, so far, one of the only people who had ever seen Sonic with his gloves off. The only other person besides Tails, actually, who built his gloves in the first place. And the only person who hadn’t said a word to him about the subject, just cleaned the cut he had gotten on his palm and told him to keep himself safe.

He was grateful to her for that.

Rouge was Vanilla’s polar opposite, in regards to the string. She not only hid her string, she made a show of hiding it, commissioning custom blocker gloves and shoving the subject right back in the face of any poor soul who dared to question her about it. She had a million and one excuses for why she didn’t want to find her soulmate, all of them tiptoeing around the truth and never once touching on the actual reason why. She bragged about being able to date anyone she wanted even without showing her string off. She complained about not wanting to be tied down. She whined about how annoying societal expectations were. She crowed about the amount of people who desperately wanted to be her soulmate.

Sonic saw through all of this as the extravagant bullshit that it was, but he really had no idea what the actual reason was. Didn’t really care either. It wasn’t like she brought the subject up an annoying amount either, she was far more likely to yammer on for hours about her one and only actual love (jewels) than she was to start talking about literally any other subject (and if he could put up with the jewel talk, then he could put up with anything). 

It was just that sometimes when they hung out, people would get the wrong idea about them. Sonic and one of his friends (a woman at that), both with blocker gloves, spending time together, alone? It was apparently unthinkable to some that they could just be friends. So they both made a big joke out of it, Rouge flaunting how untouchable she was and Sonic pretending to be heartbroken. It made for some hilarious think pieces about how Sonic was a bad role model, at the very least.

Still, he didn’t want to deal with all of that every time they hung out, which was why Rouge had dragged Shadow along with them this time, mentioning that he owed her for something.

So here they were, sequestered away in a tiny café, Rouge and Sonic talking about everything and nothing, while Shadow was also there, sipping delicately at his tea while Sonic chugged his large chocolate milkshake and Rouge got whipped cream from her hot chocolate all over her face. 

Good times.

For once, the general populace seemed content to ignore them, at least for now, so the conversation went wherever it wanted to, Sonic and Rouge loud and energetic, Shadow quiet and solemn (despite the fact that there was nothing to be solemn about).

At least, nothing until Rouge spilled hot chocolate all over her glove. 

“Ohgoddamnitshit,” Rouge said, all in one breath, dabbing at the stain on her very expensive glove with a napkin, a small frown on her face, before it turned into an outright scowl. “Oh come on-”

She shifted her wrist, and Sonic saw what had bothered her so much. Some of the liquid must have gotten into some of the actual electronics in the glove and messed with it, because Sonic could now see Rouge’s string. Rouge’s cut string.

Rouge groaned, and then shoved her hand under the table, her head in her other hand. “Not. A. Word.”

She said it lightly, like Sonic and Shadow had just seen her do something embarrassing instead of accidentally revealing that her supposed other half was dead and buried, but Sonic could hear the threat in her tone, and he wasn’t going to tell anyone about it anyway. He mimed sealing his lips shut, Shadow just gave her a terse nod, and before either of them could do anything Rouge had thrown some cash onto the table and ran out the front door, presumably to go home, get a new pair of blocker gloves, and hide her face from them for at least a couple months.

Sonic put his chocolate shake down on the table. He had a feeling it wouldn’t taste anywhere near as good as it did a second ago.

“I know Rouge already said as much, but if you tell anyone else about that, you’ll regret it,” Shadow said, the threat in his far less concealed than Rouge’s had been.

“I won’t, jeez,” Sonic said. “I’m not an asshole. And I don’t care about soulmates either.”

Shadow just raised an eyebrow at him, and Sonic glared back half-heartedly. “Those gloves serve a purpose, Sonic.”

“I only wear these because I’m a celebrity for some reason, and people think that makes it okay to pry into every detail of my life.”

“‘For some reason’,” Shadow said, mostly to himself, sounding incredulous. “That can’t seriously be the only reason you wear them.”

Well, it wasn’t, but he wasn’t about to tell Shadow that. Especially when he had no idea what the other hedgehog thought about soulmates beyond just a general unwillingness to speak about the topic. He was born over 50 years ago and raised by a bunch of uptight scientists in literal outer space, so Sonic was curious if he had any different opinions from the general crowd he hung out with.

Shadow didn’t seem willing to share, so Sonic decided to push the issue. Just a bit. “Why do you wear blocker gloves?”

Shadow’s lips curled in a vaguely unpleasant way. “I don’t want to find my soulmate. That’s all.”

Well, that was an unsurprising and boring answer. “Okay, but what would you do if you met your soulmate and fell head-over-heels in love with them? Or if you’ve already met your soulmate, but didn’t know because of the gloves?”

“I wouldn’t fall in love with anyone. And I’m not even slightly concerned about the second possibility. There is nobody in my life who I would want to become my life partner.”

Sonic pouted at him, and something in his chest hurt, just a bit. “Nobody? Not even little old me?”

Shadow’s expression flickered, before it hardened again. “I hope, for your sake, that what you just said was a joke. I’m an immortal being, Sonic. My string will end up cut, at some point or another.”

“Hmm. Good point,” Sonic said. “Well, unless your soulmate is Omega, I guess.”

Shadow choked on his drink, and Sonic couldn’t help but grin like a maniac even as Shadow glared at him (it was less scary than normal, with tea dripping out of his mouth and into his chest fluff. He looked adorable. Sonic tried not to think about the fact that he thought Shadow was adorable). 

Sonic decided against talking about it anymore for his own health (Shadow had proved he was more than willing to suplex Sonic through a table if he annoyed him too much), so instead he just waited for Shadow to finish his tea before handing him some gold rings to pay for the half-drunken milkshake. Shadow glared at the rings like they offended him. “They don’t accept those as payment in human establishments.”

“My mistake,” Sonic said cheekily. “Guess I’m dining and dashing. The next date will be my treat.”

And then he dashed before Shadow could actually suplex him through the table.

-

Sonic didn’t leave the city when he left the café, instead opting to nap on the nearest rooftop before night fell. Whenever he visited the big cities he always made sure to stay off the streets themselves. With so many people all locked into one tiny area, the red strings, thin and frail as they were, became far too many, all at once, hundreds and thousands and millions of them all crisscrossing their way across every visible surface, choking his view and making it impossible to run unless he wanted to be half-blind. So he stuck to the rooftops, and waited for night so he could at least get a good view for his trouble.

At night, the streets of every city lit up, suffused with a red glow, invisible during the day but radiant when the sun went down. The strings varied in size, thickness, length, how strong they were, how much they were moving, but every single one of them, collectively, bound people together in the most literal way possible. If you had a soulmate, it was impossible to get rid of your string. It would remain there until the day you died, so most people still said it was better to try and use it, to find happiness with your other half.

Sonic didn’t put much stock in that idea. Or in the idea of other halves existing in the first place. Some of his friends called him an idealist for thinking so, but he had always believed that people were complete by themselves, and that finding someone else made them something more than just themselves. 

Shadow would probably call him an idealist for that, too. Even if he had a sneaking suspicion it was something close to what the other hedgehog thought.

Or maybe Shadow would just call him stupid. 

High on his chosen perch, Sonic surveyed the glove on his right hand. Tails had made it for him. It was mostly pure white, just like his old gloves, but with a thin ring of silver at the bottom which made its purpose obvious. It looked professionally made. To everyone except him and Tails, it even looked like it worked. 

When he removed it, his hands were bare, free from any string. He never had one in the past, and would probably never have one in the future. Sonic had learned a long time ago how people reacted when they realized he didn’t have a soulmate, and decided he hated it even back then. The gloves were a convenience, a way for him to avoid explaining himself, a preventative measure to stop everyone from looking at him like he was broken. 

Because Sonic wasn’t broken. He only needed himself, so even if fate said he was doomed to be alone he was perfectly fine with that.

Sonic thought back to Shadow, in the café. 

Well, there was a reason he had never put much stock in fate, either.

[pretty-weird-ideas]

IWTV Twitter and the so-called "Fake Black Fans" Invasion

Something that I've been seeing a lot after it gained traction on Max is white fans condescendingly talking down to Black fans, some of whom have been in this fandom longer than they have, and acting as if they don't know what they are talking about because of their critique including a concept or subtext they wish to ignore. I want to repeat that this doesn't happen in the same amounts to white fans who make analyses or memes, it seems to uniquely be Black fans speaking AAVE or with Black pfps (visibly black bc of this) being bombed in the comments for having valid opinions.

I reached about the fifth tweet of white women going onto posts of Black people (particularly older women on Black Twitter) talking about IWTV and saying "You don't know what you're talking about, read the source material/finish the show" or entirely saying that "You don't understand fandom culture". Prompting those Black people to respond curtly that they, in fact, have read the source material, finished the show long before they have, and have been a fandom elder since before they even rolled into town. I witnessed someone doing BABY talk to a 30-year-old Black woman who was talking about episode 5, with "Well you see, it's not my fault you can't read". And when the woman professed anger back, she was the one blocked.

I witnessed this backhanded shit FIVE TIMES over the course of this week. With different white women doing the job of whitesplaining fandom culture and Anne Rice to random Black fans who already know unprompted with a level of passive aggressiveness and annoyance that only comes with doing it repeatedly. I must assure you (white people who are doing this) nobody asked, you can put down your task and stop pretending like you are doing something Sisyphean. You are not legally required to explain and describe IWTV poorly while getting into screaming matches with far more educated Black fans on Twitter and Tumblr.

People are acting as if there's a rising population of Black fans who are "Fake Fans" and must be stopped, lest they start up the freaky discourse. OOHHH NOOOO! Whatever are we to do then???? And therefore it is completely normal and a civic duty to blast Black fans in the comments of everything that they say about the show or the books.

I've been seeing people unironically football tackle reaction posts of the show with paragraphs worth of text that is inflammatory and backhanded. This is even more apparent when the poster is visibly black or uses AAVE. The association is that Black people who use AAVE or memes obviously are uneducated, lack media literacy, and cannot consume content the way that "White" fans do.

It is an attempt to tone police Black fans away from creating new topics of discussion or creating/expanding the fandom space with the growing watcher-base. It always has to happen in their chosen language, on their time, in the places they can reach us and yell some more. They are very discomforted when Black fans have pockets in fandom where they can't be outnumbered and they do in fact control discourse in a way that isn't productive to respectability. (As much as I am a big fan of big words and rambling, that is somewhat what is expected in this fandom as a Black person to be considered "respectable" and I'm not willing to ignore or shy away from that).

This is also hand in hand with my previous thoughts about fans' dog-whistling about media becoming accessible/mainstream and how "Others" will ruin it and outnumber them. I noticed that in the IWTV fandom, it seems like white fans believe that the "Others" is just Black Twitter in general. Not just "Twitter" but specifically Black people who don't fit into their narrow respectability politics.

I hate to tell you all this, but Black fandom culture is still fandom culture, and Black people do in fact read and write. I should not be seeing a pattern of random white fans going into the comments of Black people who mention IWTV and automatically assuming that they have no clue what they're talking about.

Like clockwork, exactly as when the show came out, racist white book fans started up the discourse of "The Black people are going to ruin fandom with their racism discourse and spit on Anne Rice!" and then when that time passed, the show reaches Max, and here they go barking again.... We really need to get a muzzle.

[lynchs-finch]

Mixing Business With Pleasure

An N$FW Ross Lynch x gn!Reader Fic

Summary: Living together has done wonders for you and Ross's relationship, in large part thanks to having access to each other's bodies any time you want. Recently, though, Ross has been brushing you aside in favor of interviews and business meetings. Like any good partner, though, you choose not to get mad at him. Instead, you're getting even. Word Count: 4,086 Rating: Mature (Oral Sex, Fingering) A/N: If I had a nickel for every time a picture of Ross in his underwear inspired me to write an x Reader smut, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot and it's weird that it's only happened twice.

✎✎✎

You were going to suck Ross’s dick in the middle of a business meeting and you were going to enjoy every second of it. He’d be embarrassed, sure, and you’d most likely cost him a brand deal, but Ross had it more than coming to him after the way he had been treating you the past few months.

For the majority of your time living together, you and Ross have been content to get down and dirty anywhere in your house that could fit the both of you. There just never seemed to be a reason to turn down Ross offering to let you explore his chiseled body, nor did he seem to find a reason to turn down pleasuring yours.

This more than okay arrangement between the two of you was recently disrupted when the wider world decided to bring Ross back into the public eye. Even though he was yours first, the unyielding capitalist machine required that his time be eaten up by interviews, promos, and talks about brand sponsorships before you knew it. So now the sexy, usually half naked man who only wants you even though everybody and their mother wants him doesn’t have fuck you ‘cause some stupid unpaid intern named Marcus or Karen or Reese was interviewing him for a newspaper nobody reads because it’s not the 1960s anymore.

Needless to say, Ross’s new schedule bugged you a bit.

You’d brought it up to him over and over again, but his response was the same each time. There was always “too much to do right then,” and he promised that he’d “make it up to you later.” You would then point out the fact he never did, and he wouldn’t say anything- just make those sad puppy eyes like not touching you was the hardest thing he’d ever been forced to do. So, with sadness in your heart and heat in your pants, you’d make a joke about giving him head in the middle of a zoom call to lighten the mood, the both of you under the impression that you’d never do something like that.

After that day’s iteration of the conversation, though, you had an epiphany- why shouldn’t you suck him off in front of a bunch of rich, stuck-up Disney executives? Maybe it’d finally draw his attention away from the people stuffing his pockets each day and back to the person who should be sucking what was underneath them every night. Plus, if time was the issue, there was really nothing for him to do but multi-task, right?

So, at 3:58 PM, you sat yourself down on a beanbag in Ross’s studio and waited for him to walk in. Sure enough, there he was a minute later in his delightfully odd business attire.

“Hey,” His stressed and vaguely dissociated pre-meeting face gave way to a smile and wave once he noticed you, “You hanging around for the meeting?”

Before responding, you made a show of shamelessly checking him out. His button-down shirt and blazer looked nice, and his tie was alright, but what you were really looking at were his pants–or lack thereof.  Ross’s philosophy of never wearing pants unless strictly necessary applied even to high-stakes meetings with Disney, which made your plan much easier.

“Yeah,” You laughed as he looked down at himself, faking shock at the fact he wasn’t wearing pantss, “I’ll stay quiet, don’t worry.”

Ross gave you a thumbs up as he walked over to his desk. There was no treat quite like watching him walk away, especially since he’d started buying his underwear two sizes too small. The pair he was wearing today, some red-and-black striped Hollister briefs, would’ve hugged his figure even if they were his size, but the added tightness meant you could see the outline of everything.

Ross hopped into his desk chair, logging into his laptop and joining the zoom meeting. He slipped on his rosegold over-ear headphones, humming the opening notes of Rumors as he plugged them in. Biding your time, you watched him open the meeting and plotted your route in.

He was sitting how he always did—leaned back in his chair with his legs spread wide—more than enough room for you to kneel between. His tall desk left you at little risk of bumping your head and the carpeted flooring combined with his noise-canceling headphones meant he wouldn’t be able to hear you coming. Really, all there was to it was pulling his underwear down and sucking him off fast enough that he got hard before he came to his senses and sent you away. In your time with him, you’d learned that it’d take a forklift to pull him out of you once he was into it, even if it meant Little Mister Disney and his subordinates seeing his orgasm face and bare lower half live in living color

After about ten minutes had passed, and Ross’s conversation had gone from boring introductory small talk to boring business discussion, you quietly slid off the beanbag and began crawling on all fours. Though you knew first hand that Ross’s headphones were powerful enough to block out any noise you may have made, there was still a certain kind of thrill in trying to sneak across the floor. Like you were an expert spy or thief, except the “package” you were after was far too thick and heavy to ever dream of stealing. Simply running your fingers (and younge) over it was all you could hope to achieve and all you could ever want.

In no time, you had gotten yourself into position without being noticed and now rested on your knees, eye-to-eye with Ross’s cock. It was covered by his underwear, but it’s prominent head, thick trunk, and balls were all clearly outlined. You looked away from it and up at him for a moment, almost laughing aloud to yourself at how completely unaware he was. Fully in business mode, equipped with a tight brow, slight frown, and absolutely zero awareness of what was about to happen next.

Keeping your eyes on his face, you gripped the waistband of his underwear with both of your hands at his hips and yanked them down as far as you could. You watched his eyes all but pop out of his head and heard the fabric of his underwear rip as his legs jumped up out of surprise.

“What the f-” Ross shouted, almost cursing at the top of his lungs. Undeterred by your boyfriends surprise, you dove your head in between his legs, pulling his (now torn) underwear the rest of the way off. You lapped his soft dick up into your mouth, feeling it begin to harden as your ran your tongue over the tip a few times.

“Mr. Lynch, is everything alright?” You heard somebody ask.

“Yeah, just…” Ross’s voice shook as you firmly ran your tongue up the underside of his shaft. You could tell he was suppressing a moan as he continued, “Just my cat.”

Your lips curled into a smile—or, as much of one as they could with a dick in your mouth. You didn’t have a cat, but you did have him right where you wanted him. There was no way he was gonna push you off of him now that he was hard, and he wouldn’t just ditch the negotiations, either.

Ross proved you right instantly, going right back into business talk as slowly bobbed your head back and forth on his cock. You went easy on him for the moment, moving slowly, keeping your tongue only slightly involved, and not having more than half of his 8-inches in your mouth at once. Him thinking this was a treat for him would only add to the pleasure of humiliating him.

A few minutes passed, and Ross was laughing and chatting as if you weren’t there. You took this opportunity to pick up the pace, occasionally stopping to run your tongue over the head of his dick, slurping up a little bit of precum and letting the saliva drooling out of your mouth take its place. Above you, his voice again began to take on a shaky quality, and he even let a moan slip out which he tried (and failed) to cover with a cough.

Just as Ross fixed his lips to apologize for his sudden “cough,” you took a deep breath, opened your throat, and dove mouth-first into Ross’s crotch, taking all of Ross’s cock into your mouth as quickly as you could. The experience was familiar to you—the coarse underside of his cock running against your tongue until the tip slammed into your with your soft palate. Then, you went down even harder, feeling its girth press against the walls of your throat until his balls were against your chin, your nose was deep in his bush, and all 8-inches of Ross were squeezed into your mouth.

The chair shook as Ross pounded an armrest with his fist, letting out a strangled groan—as if whatever curse he was about to shout had lodged itself in his throat the same way his cock was lodged in yours. He looked up to the sky, shakily exhaling as his thighs tensed against your cheeks.

With a unstable voice and exasperated affect, Ross apologized for his outburst and continued speaking. You contracted your throat around his dick periodically as he did, shivering each time his voice wavered thanks to you. 

Finally, you had to succumb to your human limitations and come up for air, though strands of saliva kept your mouth connected to him. The lush, earthy scent of Ross’s soap filled your nose for a moment as you inhaled, but there was no time to enjoy it. You were back on his cock in no time, with even more air in your lungs and vigor in your heart.

Feeling himself inside your throat again, Ross’s thighs brushed against your cheeks and ears as they began jittering feverishly, shaking his chair left and right as his legs shook seemingly against his will. You pushed your head further into his crotch and wrapped your arms around his thighs so he wouldn’t shake you off, but as your hands touched his lower inner thighs, an unexpected, shuddering moan leapt out of Ross.

“Mr. Lynch, are you certain you’re alright?” A different man on the Zoom asked, “Your face looks rather… flushed.”

You paused for a moment, curious about his reaction to being touched there. As you pulled back from his dick, you couldn’t help but wonder…

“Fi-fi-fine! I’m good, I’m good.” Ross stammered out, recomposing himself in your moment of stillness, “Let’s just keep talking business, yeah? What were you saying before about, uh, Search Engine—Oh my god!”

Ross shouted as you licked down his shaft, simultaneously rubbing and squeezing his thick thighs. His legs jolted up involuntarily, but your grip held him down as you circled both of his balls in a figure eight with your tongue before running your tongue wildly over the area between his balls and hole.

Fitting for his large size, you had to wrangle Ross like a bull as you went in on his underside. He gulped and grunted as you licked and lapped the area’s sweat and saliva. Even though Ross had just showered, down there had already begun to smell and taste like man in the delicious way only Ross’s body seemed to be. Becoming just the slightest bit greedy, you pressed your tongue into him hard, licking up to the skin between his balls.

This time, your grip wasn’t enough to hold Ross down. Almost instantly, his legs shot straight out, kicking the desk legs and propelling his rolling chair back. Several pens and pencils clattered against the floor, followed by the bang with which the keyboard fell and the clinking of various keys buncing away away.

Now, Ross was in the center of the room, rock hard with his entire lower half exposed. His knees had hiked up and he’d rolled back a bit, giving you (and every executive) a full view of his glistening cock, big balls, and tight hole. You expected him to immediately reach to cover himself, but after he remained dazed from your tongue’s magic for more than a moment, you advanced on him with your proverbial trump card in hand.

Your hands and knees thumping against the ground amid the cacophony of confused and objectioning shouts from the executives, you gathered up as much saliva as you could in your mouth. Once in range, you stuck your pointer and index fingers into your mouth, twisting them around until they were dripping wet, and yanked them out only to shove them into Ross’s hole before he could even register you were there.

Ross’s whole body shook, and he let out a long, drawn out moan as you slightly curved the tips of your fingers. With no mercy, you again stuffed his cock into your throat, causing him to cry out.

“God—Fuck!” All decorum had left Ross’s body once you entered it, leaving his pleasure-seeking lizard brain as the sole pilot of his actions. He reached one of his arms down between his shaking legs to grip your hair, forcing your head back and forth on his cock at leisure. Each time you adjusted your fingers, his grip briefly tightened and a low grunt radiated from his body.

Finally, though you were elated to be fucking Ross again, you had to remind him who was boss. You pulled your two fingers out of him, redistributing the little saliva on them onto your ring and pinky fingers. Indelicately and haphazardly, you shoved all four fingers back into Ross’s now-loosened hole.

With an piercing, high-pitched whine, Ross’s back instantly curled into an arch, his feet slamming into the ground shortly after. For a moment, you thought you had given him too much to handle—that he was about to come to his senses and chew you out for what you were doing. 

Thankfully, Ross was too much of a slut for that

Once his planted feet gave him the leverage, Ross thrusted off of your finger and into your throat with vigor. The head of Ross’s cock slamming into the back of your throat still caused to gag and recoil a bit, but you were no amateur. You continued to let him face-fuck you as you finger-fucked him with intensity.

At first you tried to get back into the grove you had under the desk, but Ross’s movements while being fingered were far too erratic. He kept thrusting back and forth mindlessly, so his dick was never where you expected it to be in your mouth. Eventually, you tried pulling back to lick the underside of his cock, but it just ended up slapping you on the cheek in a way that was surprisingly arousing, even if it stung a little.

Seeing as conventional dick-sucking tactics weren’t working, you loosely grabbed his dick in your freehand, looking up at him as he continued frantically jerking his cock up into your hand and ass back down onto your fingers. His eyes were shut with his mouth slightly agape, allowing grunts and whines to slip out along with the occasional expletive. It took all your mental strength not to stand up and start pulling at his hair and shirt, both ruffled in a way that was sexually agitating beyond belief. 

You dug your fingers deeper into Ross’s hole until your knuckles were against his ass cheeks. Ross shook and whimpered, forgoing thrusting into your hand entirely and pressing his ass down on your fingers with all his might. Gently, you curled your fingers and adjusted the position of your hands, listening to his grunts and waiting for-

“Holy—uff—shit!” Ross’s back arched and his forearms bulged as your fingers grazed his prostate. 

Spurred on by this reaction, you continued pleasuring Ross with the fingers one hand and jerking him off with the other. His big reaction to the initial contact simmered down into rubbing his ass back and forth on your fingers, groaning and letting out quivering pleads for you to keep going.

His dick was stiff and throbbing, threatening to blow as precum drizzled down the sides and onto your hand. You slowed down the pace in an attempt to delay the inevitable, taking a full second to pull your grip from the base of his cock to the tip, and another one pulling it back down.

Try as you might’ve, though, Ross was too close to the edge to put off his orgasm much longer. After only a few strokes, Ross’s shouts reverberated off of the walls of his studio.

“I’m– Fuck! I’m g-gonna– Fu-u-ck!”

Taking this as the cue to show your final tr, you simultaneously let go of Ross’s cock, lifted yourself up to position your mouth over it, and abruptly shoved your fingers into him so hard your knuckles wound up in his hole.

Just as you’d hoped, Ross’s hips sprung forward from the sudden pain and pleasure, driving his dick most of the way down your open and ready throat. Once his hips had extended as far forward as they could, you reached forward and gripped the seat of the chair. Then, with all your might, you pulled it toward you and pushed your head down, again deepthroating him and forcing him back into his seat.

After a moment, a cacophony of dull slapping sounds and frantic moans erupted above you. You looked up to find Ross flailing his body around, as if he were going to explode if he didn’t externalize the ecstasy of being deep in your throat that very second. His torso twisted and jerked, his legs bounced up and down independently of one another, and his fists clenched and unclenched as they alternate between punching and slapping the arms of the chair. Not to mention his hips, trying desperately to thrust even a millimeter deeper in your mouth.

Of course, his reaction only served encourage you, and you wondered what else you could do to make him squirm before he came. Just as you were getting ready to stick your thumb in him too, Ross’s chair creaked loudly. Before you could realize the sound came from a sudden shifting of weight, your head was suddenly squeezed tight from all sides, pulled in further onto Ross’s cock (if that was even possible.)  You threw your hands up to your head, trying and figure out what was happening as you tried to suppress your panic and growing urge breathe, and the meaty smack that accompanied the thick, trunk-like objects your palms collided with clued you in immediately.

In his pleasure-driven frenzy, Ross had tilted his entire lower body upwards and wrapped both his legs around your head in a desperate attempt to bury his cock even deeper in your throat. He squeezed his legs in several times, grunting in exasperation as he failed to will himself more dick to put inside you. The sound of fist-meeting-chair filled your ears again, followed by him using his arms to push himself off the chair and up into you.

The poor, poor chair squeaked and buckled as all 170-pounds of Ross landed back onto it. Still, in spite of its cries, a carnally unsatisfied Ross pushed himself again. And again. And again. Until Ross’s greed finally caught up with him. He’d pushed himself too far this time, and instead of his plump, saliva-drenched ass cheeks landing safely on the chair, they brushed against its edge and sent it careening backwards as all 170-pounds of Ross plus your head went plummeting toward the ground.

You weren’t quite certain if the chair slamming into the wall came before or after Ross’s tailbone thudded against the ground, but you were certain that the sound following both of them, that of the sustained wail Ross let out, eclipsed them both in volume and length. It rebounded off of the walls in his office, seeming only to amplify in volume over time. He was putting so much into his shout, you swore you could feel his vocal chords vibrating in his legs.

For a moment it seemed like Ross was seriously hurt, but as his cry tapered off into a gasp and his thighs tensed against your jaw and cheeks, you realized his noise wasn’t that of pain, but of an imminent orgasm. This further proved to be the case when Ross’s cock, still lodged in your throat began to twitch, threating a milky explosion any second.

Ross’s voice filled the room again. A high, breathy whisper of your name that rapidly deepened into a guttural grunt. The firm, immobilizing grip of his thighs devolved into a trembling, pleading suggestion of where to keep your head. His stiff, trembling cock expanding into a force threatening to open your throat from the inside out. All as he toppled over the edge into his orgasm.

The first rope of cum hit the back of your throat like a bullet. What felt like a whole pint of semen dripped down your esophagus as Ross gasped and trembled above you. He tried squeezing his legs around your head again, but found himself unable to settle his trembling legs. Instead, he reached down and gripped your hair with both of his hands, ensuring you wouldn’t get off his cock until he was ready as his dick prepared to shoot off more rounds of cum.

Two… Three… Four… The subsequent shots came at a similar speed, together coating part of your throat with Ross’s thick semen. His cock was too far down your throat to taste the sweet, tanginess of his semen. Silently, you prayed that you might get a taste when Ross pulled out, though that seemed a long ways away.

Five… Six… Seven… The next few ropes of cum fell short of reaching the back of your throat, and instead fell straight down your esophagus. The sensation was not unlike swallowing water down the wrong pipe, except you had to suppress your urge to cough as to not waste any of your dwindling supply of air.

Eight… Nine… Ten… By now, Ross’s cum wasn’t “shooting” so much as dribbling off his cock and down your throat. Still, even as his balls were emptied and his moans gave way to slight whimpers and heavy breathing, Ross’s cock kept twitching like it was trying to shoot out more cum and his hand kept you firmly in place.

It wasn’t until a fully his cock was finally still that Ross let you go. Not a millisecond later, you pulled back and settled on all fours, gasping for breath and swallowing Ross’s cum down fully. Like you hoped for, hints of Ross’s cum grazed your tongue on the way up. You couldn’t help smiling a content, saliva-coated smile.

After taking a moment to recuperate, you shifted onto your knees and looked over Ross, taken fully out of commision. He was laid out on his back, his body unmoving and pinkened from exertion. His stare was blank and mouth ajar, drooling just a little. Were it not for the rise and fall of his chest as he took breath after labored breath, you’d fear you sucked the soul straight out of his body through his cock.

His cock. The not-so-little monster was still fully hardened and pointing skyward, as if it were begging for just a little more action from you even as the man it was attached to was worn out and developing gnarly bruise on his lower back. Your spit still coated it thoroughly, dripping both down his shaft and straight off his tip onto the floor. You almost got lost in watching it, but reminded yourself that you were here to teach Ross a lesson, not just give a killer blowjob.

You crawled over his body, leaning in close to his ear. He seemed not to notice you at first, but jolted into awarness when you started to whisper.

“From now on, I hope you’ll think twice before ditching me for some stupid interview,” You told him, preparing to stand up, “‘Cause when I get blown off, I always make sure to return the favor.” If Ross responded in any way, you didn’t stick around to hear it. He need time to think about his actions and how to do better in the future. And, frankly, you needed to get off somehow, and he certainly wasn’t in any condition to do it.

✎✎✎

If the desire for A Lot More Ross resonates with you, please feel free to stick around.

[everythingacotarbxm1012]

They're Mates

Summary - Feyre meets Rhys's Inner Circle and witnesses the strength of the mating bond.

Warnings - abusive family mentioned

Other Notes - 1k words; Please note that most of these lines/plot points are inspired or directly quoted from ACOMAF; I gave reader the name 'Vee' because I know y/n can be obnoxious and i also think it adds to the Az x Reader story.

Part Two

✨💫

Feyre looked up to see the same two males from earlier standing in the doorway, grinning, and a new presence. A beautiful female with wings like the others. She wore a deep blue gown that reached the floor––her hair resting over both her shoulders. The two males wore black leather with a sword strapped against their backs. Feyre noted the power each of them seemed to hold.

The male who was a bit large than the other, spoke up with a light chuckle. “We don’t bite. Unless you ask to us to Feyre.”

The female shot him a pointed look. “Last time I checked, nobody wanted to take you up on that offer, Cassian.” The male who stood between the female and Cassian let out a light, short, laugh before whispering something into the female’s ear making her eyes twinkle subtly. Feyre watched as Cassian gave his own pointed look.

“No secrets in front of our guest, Az,” Cassian said with a grin.

The light danced across their faces allowing Feyre to observe their physical features for a moment. Similar to Rhysand, all three were dark-haired. Both males had tanned skin and hazel eyes. Feyre couldn’t quite tell the eye color of the female standing next to Az, but she gave off an heir of beauty and power.

Cassian grinned again, looking Rhys and Feyre up and down. “You made poor Feyre dress up, brother,” he said before winking in her direction. His features were rough like someone had molded him, from the earth.

The second male was more classically beautiful, though hard to read. He was certainly the one who would be a surprise in the dark, the hidden knife. Feyre noticed the light sparkle in his anytime he looked at the female to his left. It piqued a curiosity in Feyre.

Rhys said, “Azriel––my spymaster,” indicating the one in the middle. He then indicated the female. “Vee. An emissary for the Night Court.” A name, Feyre later learned, Az had adopted for the emissary after she declared she did not want the name her abusive family had given her.

She immediately offered her hand with a warm smile. “Welcome, Feyre.” She gently squeezed Feyre’s before she quickly let go and Feyre does her best to not seem eager as she stepped back to stand next to the High Lord of the night Court, again.

“You’re brothers?” Feyre asked. The two males before her looked similar. The kind of similar where people who come from the same place do, not familial similar.

“All bastards are brothers in some sense,” Rhys responded, sticking his hands in his pockets.

Before Feyre could ask Cassian said, “And I command Rhys’s armies.”

Feyre nodded, shifting on her feet slightly before her eyes glanced to see Azriel taking another glance in the emissary’s direction. She looked right back with a smile that showed a clear fondness for the spymaster. The moment went as quickly as it came when Az turned his gaze to Feyre. “Cassian also excels at pissing everyone off. Especially amongst our friends. So, as a friend of Rhysand, good luck.”

Feyre was giving more attention to not being recognized as the girl Under the Mountain. She wondered, for just a moment if they knew––maybe they didn’t. That was quickly  answered when Cassian nudged past the Night Court’s spymaster requiring Az to flare his wings to keep himself balanced. Feyre watched Vee’s hand fall to Azriel’s lower back to assist. Feyre noticed the fleeting moment of eye contact between the spymaster and the emissary, but it quickly became a second thought as Cassian asked his question about how Feyre had made the bone ladder in the Middengard Wyrm’s lair, when as he put it, “you looked like your own bones could snap at any moment.”

Vee shot Cassian another pointed gaze, but it turned into a grin after Feyre made a sarcastic comment of her own. The general laughed and Azriel’s eyebrow lifted with approval as the shadows swirled around him, tighter. Feyre’s need to understand the gift only furthered when the shadows swirled up and around Vee’ wrist playfully, before weaving around the ends of her hair.

Her curiosity once again was pushed to the side when Feyre heard, thankfully, a familiar voice…Mor. “I hope Cassian’s howling means Feyre told him to shut his fat mouth.”

Vee quickly whispered something into Az’s ear, his shadows lightened slightly from around him. Feyre’s curiosity about the nature of their relationship increasing.

“I don’t know why I forget you two are related,” Cassian told Mor, while glancing over at Rhys for just a moment. “You two and your clothing.” The High Lord rolled his eyes, but Feyre had her own focus on the emissary and the spymaster who were both standing in silence, stealing glances at each other.

“I wanted to impress Feyre. You could have tried to make an effort to comb your hair,” Mor responded.

Cassian braced his feet a little farther apart on the floor in a fighting stance Feyre recognized, perhaps too well. “Unlike some people, I have better things to do with my time than sit in front of the mirror for hours,” the general bit back.

“Yes,” Mor said, tossing her hair over her shoulder, “since swaggering around––”

“We have company,” Azriel said in a soft warning, spreading his wings as he tried to herd everyone.

“Relax, Az,” Mor said as she dodged the spymaster’s outstretched wing. “We won’t fight. We promised Rhys.”

Feyre barely noticed Az stop in his tracks, letting out the smallest of huff and his shadows seem to become thicker. She then watched as Vee took one of Az’s hands in her own, gently pressing her lips to the back of it. His shadows lightened around him. Apparently the question about their relationship reached Feyre’s face because Rhys leaned down slightly to say, “They’re mates. Azriel and Vee. They’ve known each other a little over 500 years and been mates just under 500.”

Feyre considered that fact, thinking there was something delicately beautiful about nearly 500 years of commitment between the two. Now she just had a few thousand more questions about the court’s spymaster and emissary. Question she decided were for another time as Mor indicated the empty seat beside her. Feyre knew the image of Az whispering into his mate’s ear and the twinkle in her eye would be etched into the back of her mind forever.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

HIII GOOOOD TO SEE YOU <333

hades, shiva and poseidon (separate pls) with their a wife that is deaf, so they have to learn sign language and even insist on others learning it so she can be comfortable around others. it would be cute if shivas wives also coddled on reader and had fun with her👉👈

-To (Love) you weren’t any different than anybody else around them, you were able to communicate, you could cuddle, and you loved with your whole heart- that’s all that mattered to him, and he wouldn’t let anyone disrespect you.

-It had been a journey for the two of you, when you first found each other and he saw you making motions with your hands and how you wouldn’t respond when he came up to you from behind, but once he learned about you, he was all in.

-You were a beautiful and intelligent person, but funny and you could be mischievous at times- in his eyes you were perfect in every way.

-He learned sign language so he could communicate with you and took to it naturally, and he encouraged others to learn it as well, so you wouldn’t be excluded from things, like you have been in the past.

-(Love) never made you feel like a freak or someone who was unable to do things, you were still Y/N- a capable deity in your own right, you didn’t need to hear to do your job right, which is something many of the other gods couldn’t say- as many of even the most powerful gods couldn’t do their jobs right.

-(Love) coddled you early on in your relationship together, thinking you were fragile, someone who needed protecting, but you were anything but and he learned to ease back off you, he trusted you- he knew that you could handle yourself.

-It also helped that you did know how to read lips, so you could have conversations with him, but with him communicating your way, via sign language, always warmed your heart, because he did that, just for you.

-Hades- Is respectful to you and always knows how to make you smile, he knows exactly what to say to make you feel so warm and had found learning sign language to be not only challenging, but invigorating- it was fun! He especially loved your lessons where you would sit on his lap, helping him sign that way, so he could learn with you in a more intimate way. Even though he knows sign language now, Hades can be a gremlin at times, telling you to sit on his lap to show him new signs that he didn’t know. You thought it was cute that he was asking you this, as you knew that he knew, but he was just being shy about it.

-Shiva- Can have very in-depth conversations with you since he has twice the hands of a normal god, which is something you learned from him, watching both sets of his hands signing at the same time, which was impressive. Your co-wives learned alongside your shared husband when you first started dating the four of them, and they all found it invigorating to learn a language that didn’t require talking or listening, despite you being able to read lips. Your co-wives were all doting on you, showering you with cuddles and praise, showering you with love, and Shiva was quite protective of you just as he was with his other wives, but he does his best to not coddle you- you’re deaf not helpless.

-Poseidon- Is very protective of you in the sense that he demands respect for you, just as it’s given to him- you are his wife and you are to be treated as such and anything less is seen as disrespect to him, and nobody sane would ever disrespect Poseidon. He treated learning sign language like it was his duty to do so, especially now as your husband, you are to be informed and included on anything that goes on in his kingdom and has made servants and guards learn sign language so you can always feel included. Poseidon adores everything about you, except when you got up to mischief with Zeus- he didn’t want to deal with two pains in the ass, but at least he was willing to forgive you, with just punishing you with kisses. Zeus wasn’t so lucky.

[jellalism]

Wriothesley x GN!Reader fic: To soften the pain

You're in a depressive episode. Wriothesley comforts you.

Word count: 645

Genre: Comfort

Content warnings: Depression; mention of a meal.

Notes: Reader is gender neutral.

Read below or on AO3.

“Wriothesley?” You step through the large doors and move towards the stairs leading to his office. 

“Hi dear,” he responds before you’re even within his field of vision. When you’re high enough up the staircase, you look over the Duke’s desk. Wriothesley is sitting behind it, handling some papers, not looking up.

There’s a surprisingly large amount of paperwork that comes with running the Fortress. You once asked whether the amount of bureaucracy in the Fortress of Meropide couldn’t be reduced. After all, it’s an autonomous entity and is not required to follow the regulations of the Palais Ordalie. Wriothesley had laughed and explained that, even though it’s formally autonomous, the Fortress still collaborates with the Palais, and so must deliver the documents that it requires. Its bureaucracy is inescapable. You often find him in the position he is now, hunched over files.

He doesn’t look up as you enter the office. “What brings you here? Have something to ask, or did you just miss me?” His tone is light and teasing.

You’re not sure how to answer that. You did miss him, but it would be wrong to reduce the reason for your visit to just that.

At your silence, he finally gazes up at you and looks at your face. His expression grows serious and he stands up, walks to you, and places his strong hands on both your shoulders. “What’s wrong? You look exhausted.”

“I am.” You want to speak at a normal volume, but all your throat produces is a whisper. “I feel like shit.”

At those words, Wriothesley pulls you close. For a few moments, he doesn’t say anything; he just lets you soak in his warmth. He feels safe. “I’ll clear out the rest of my day for you. I want to be with you tonight.” He kisses the top of your head.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to go that far…”

“I want this too, you know. You’re not the only one who’s been missing their partner.” He holds you a little tighter. “Haah… I know it’s been only a few days, but I really wanted to hold you again like this.”

You smile slightly — something you haven’t done in a few days. “I missed you,” you mumble. Your voice is muffled as your face is buried in his chest.

“I missed you too, love.” His voice is soft and calming. With one hand, he plays with your hair. “Do you want to tell me what makes you feel so bad?”

You disentangle yourself a little bit from him so it’s easier to breathe and speak. “Not sure,” you mutter. “Sometimes, the depression just hits, you know? Well, maybe you don’t know. I hope you don’t know.”

“I don’t know, but I can imagine.” He still holds you in his embrace. “Is there anything I can do to make it easier? Anything, from a hug to the more practical things.” You’ve talked about depression with Wriothesley before, and he knows it makes it harder to take good care of yourself.

“Maybe… If it’s not too much trouble… You can help me clean the dishes?” It feels silly to ask for something stupid like this. What kind of pathetic loser needs help doing something so basic?

Instead of answering, Wriothesley lifts your chin and presses a kiss to your lips. “I see you talking yourself down. But nobody gets to insult my lovely partner. Not even you.” He sounds stern, but his smile is a teasing one. “I’ll help you clean the dishes and anything else you need. Later tonight. For now… How about we get something to eat above ground? I think you could use a good meal.”

You nod. He stands up, dragging you along with it. “Alright then. It’s a date night now. I promise you you’ll feel better by the end of the day.”

[strniohoeee]

Vile

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N is a mean girl who hates a soft boy! She wants her men mean and rough. When Chris doesn’t take this well things start to change….this is for my best friend who literally held me at gun point to write this long ass story😅

Warnings⚠️: This is juicy juicy SMUT. I’m talking hair pulling, smacking, spit, manhandling, knife kink. Chris is mean as fuck and a douchey asshole. So read at your own risk just know she’s juicy

Song for the imagine: One of The Girls- The Weeknd, JENNIE, Lily-Rose Depo

⚠️This is an 18+ story, so minors do not interact, or do??⚠️

Chris was such an annoying little clingy boy. We were friends for some time now, and we were literally the definition of black cat and golden retriever energy. I was always a bitch and cold, I mean I had my soft spots but ehhh. And he was so childish and giddy all the time.

I’m not sure how we became friends, or how we actually liked each other, but we did. I had actually really liked Chris, but something about him acting too childish for me kept me away.

Most of the time we hung out it required me to literally watch him like he was a child. He acted like such a little baby, and one part of me wanted to coddle him, and the other part of me wanted to smack him to reality.

“I can tell you why she ghosted you” I told Chris

“And why is that?” He said rolling his eyes

“Because you’re such a little pussy. You get pussy whipped and you’ve never even met the girl” I told him

“Not fucking true at all” he said sounding offended

“No, it's very true. You’re a munch, and girls don’t like that. Ease off. You’re doing too much” I told him

“Excuse the fuck out of me! Miss perfect. How many guys actually want you around. You’re so meh and dark and MEAN” he said

“Guys like mean girls…..I’ll have you know I get any guy I want” I told him

“Yeah right! I couldn’t be with a girl who’s mean” he said back

“Yeah because you’re too nice, and you’re like a baby. Tighten the fuck up” I responded back to him

“Could you not be mean to me” he said

“Uhhh let me think?? No” I said rolling my eyes at him

“Chris, I'm telling you. Stop being a little softy and you’ll see every girl will fall to their knees for you” I told him

“Would you fall to your knees for me?” He asked with a puppy dog face

“Not until you get mean…..i like my men just as mean, and you doing this puppy dog face is putting you at the bottom of my roster” I said giving him a weird face

“Not a single nice thing out your mouth” he said scoffing and rolling his eyes

“Oh! You see that the scoffing and the eye roll? Yeah, keep doing that. A bad attitude looks good on you” I told him nodding my head

“Ouu are you flirting with me?” He asked smirking

“Most definitely am not” I said laughing in his face

His face drops and he clenched his jaw

“Ohh Chris that was hot as fuck, keep doing it” I told him running my tongue along my teeth

“You think so?” He said getting happy again

“See now I was flirting with you, and that shit went right over your dome” I told him

“Uhhh whatever” he said giving up

I worked at a bar/lounge that Chris and his brothers always frequented. I’m sure it was for me because this is not their scene at all. I found it amusing, but Chris just wasn’t my type

I hadn’t seen the triplets in a good month. Their fame skyrocketed and they were on tour the last I saw on instagram. Man I kind of missed my munch I was getting bored with these guys.

I was working a boring night shift on a Tuesday when nobody would be in. We were so slow I think I washed the shot glasses 25 times….actually might be 26

The front door opened and Chris and his brothers walked in. Immediately my face lit up

“Hey guys” I said

“Y/N heyyyyy” Nick said walking over to sit at the bar

“Yoo” Matt said sitting next to him, and then Chris sat next to Matt

“Hey Chris” I said

He just nodded his head at me….whos this fucking cool guy? I asked myself

“How have you guys been?” I asked them

“We’ve been good, just got back from tour actually” Matt said

“Oh nice how was that? Insufferable I imagine with all the teenage girls screaming” I said

“I missed your negativity! Actually it was really fun” Nick said

“How many tits did you sign Chris? Oh wait your whole fanbase is like 16, and you’re too pussy to do it for the girls that are actually of age” I told him

“Fuck outta here” he said giving me a dirty look

“Oh someone’s a little feisty” I said looking at Matt and Nick

“Yeah he’s been a total dick lately. He’s really fucking pissing us off” Nick said rolling his eyes

“Shut the fuck up” Chris said rolling his eyes

I’m not sure who this new Chris is, but it was really fucking hot.

“Let me take you on a date” Chris randomly blurted out

“Fuck no….have you lost your mind” I told him laughing at him

“Why you gotta do me like that. I’m tryna be nice and ask you out” he said rolling his eyes

“I told you I like my men mean….not posers pretending to be mean” I said back

“Want me to smack you around and call you bitch then? Before you agree to go out with me” he asked scoffing

“Mmm that does sound enticing” I said winking at him

The triplets had left about an hour after hanging around, and I had to finish my boring shift. I was closing solo tonight since it wasn’t busy, and everyone cleaned their area, so I only had a small portion to clean

It was 2AM, and I walked over to the door switching the open sign to closed

I walked back to my area and was wiping down the bar and the tables that were mine. When all of a sudden I heard someone come in….I thought I locked the door??

“I’m sorry we’re closed” I yelled out since my back was turned

“You left the door open….rookie mistake” I heard someone say, I knew that voice

“Chris what the fuck” I said turning around

“Not happy to see me?” He asked frowning

“No…waiting around like some creep” I told him cleaning my last table

“Ohhh you wound me” he said

“Chris you’re so fucking corny please stop” I said shaking my head

“Just give me a chance please I really like you” he said

“You’re acting like a freaky obsessed teenager, NO” I told him

“I can be mean” he said back to me

“Yeah sure you can” I said laughing at him

“I can be mean, and I can fuck you like a dirty slut you annoying bitch” he said walking closer to me

“The fuck did you just say?” I asked shocked, and pleasantly surprised

“You heard me…” he said smugly

“I can make you take back all those things you said about me. When I fuck you like A DIRTY SLUT YOU ANNOYING BITCH” he said raising his voice at the last part

“I doubt you can fuck me good” I said feeding into him

“Oh I’ll have you fucking weeping and limp” he said laughing

“Come on then rude boy, I can take you” I said

Chris stormed over to me and slammed me into the edge of the bar table (fuck that will leave a mark tomorrow). He smashed his lips against mine in a disgusting and sloppy kiss, but it was so fucking hot my knees buckled a bit

“You’re getting nothing but my dick tonight, and I’m going to give it to you how I want, and you’re gonna take it, GOT IT” he said gripping onto my chin harshly

“Yes” I said

We started to make out and he was groping my body harshly with want and need

He pulled away and looked me over while licking his lips

His hand came up to my throat and he started to choke me

“You’re gonna be mine” he spat at me like venom on his tongue

He removed my shirt and my bra. Immediately grabbing my boobs massaging them while looking at my face

“Fuck Chris” I said biting my lip

He grabbed the back of my head and leaned my head down. I was looking at his palm

“Spit” he demanded

“What the fuck no” I told him

He smacked me, “I said spit” and he pushed my head a little harder

So I spat on his palm

“Good fucking girl” he let go of my head kind of pushing me back and brought his palm up to my nipple massaging the spit in

“Ohh fuck” I said throwing my head back

“Yeah what a fucking slut” he said massaging my other breast

“Stop fucking talking and do something” I said which he didn’t like because he spun me around and pushed me against the counter again

“You need to learn to be nice” he said, pulling my hair causing my head to go back. I winced in pain and pleasure

He pulled my skirt down and had me step out of it

“Red lace thong. You’re a mean bitch and a slut” he laughed

“Fuck you” I said

“OH! So vulgar” he said pulling my hair again

“How do you feel about a knife” he asked me massaging my ass with his right hand

“Chris what the fuck are you on” I said trying to look over my shoulder but he didn’t let me

“If I brought a knife up to your pussy would I make you shudder?” He asked in my ear

“You wouldn’t….you're a pussy” I said laughing

The next thing I heard was the sound of a pocket knife opening. This sick fuck, he really had a knife

“I would choose my next words wisely” he said

“Or what” I said rudely

Chris placed the blade on my ass slowly grazing it. This sent a chill down my spine

“I don’t know….you tell me” he said back

“Chris I’m not fucking around don’t be stupid” I told him

Slowly I felt the blade travel further until he slid it under my underwear, and cut the side of it, and then slid it to the other side, and cut the other side letting my now destroyed underwear fall to the floor

He then swiftly turned me around

“Speechless are we?” He said with a smile on his face

He took the knife and slowly ran it up from my stomach to the valley of my breast

“Am I scaring you?” He asked with a fake pout

“No you’re turning me on” I said looking into his eyes

He then pulled my head back allowing my neck to be exposed, and he lightly slid the knife against my neck

“Mmmm how about now” he said taunting me

“Maybe a little bit. The knifes at my fucking throat” I said getting scared

“Good” he said then placed the knife on the counter, and grabbed me harshly throwing me against a table

He flipped me around so my chest was against the table and my ass was up

“Now I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t even know your name” he said smacking my ass

“Fuck” I said wincing in pain

Chris kicked my legs apart, and started to unzip his pants. Taking his hard dick out. He walked around to where my head was

“Be a good girl and spit on my cock” he said smacking me lightly

I opened my mouth and spit on his cock. He then used that to jerk himself off. Slowly walking back behind me

He was teasing my entrance at such an agonizingly slow pace

“CHRIS PLEASE” I said already fucked out

“Shut the fuck up” he warned

And slowly he slid into me bottoming out in one go

“Mmmm this pussy was made for me” he said groaning

Within a few second Chris was pounding into me like a feral fucking animal. His hips connecting to my ass in loud smacks

“Fuck Chris you feel so good” I moaned out gripping the table

He was pounding into me relentlessly like I was some fucking ragdoll. His dick was touching all the right places

“Give me your hands” he said, but I ignored him

He grabbed my hair and pulled me up

“I said. GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING HANDS” he said throwing me forward

“IM SORRY IM SORRY” I said giving him my hands

He grabbed them together and started pounding into me even harder. How was this humanly possible

“Oh my god Chris” I said moaning and drooling everywhere

He lifted my leg up so my knee was on the table as he thrusted into me

“Such a good fucking slut for me” he said laughing as he smacked my ass with his right hand

“You gonna let me take you on a date now?” He asked

“Yes Chris yes! Whatever you want” I said moaning as tears fell from my eyes from the pleasure

“Good! Letting me fuck you like a dumb slut, and then letting me be your man” he said thrusting into me hard

“Fuck I’m gonna cum” I screeched out

“Yeah cum on my cock” he said as he pounded into me

“Fuck fuck fuck” I said and I came all over his cock. I was shaking and moaning out incoherent words as my legs were about to give out

“Let me cum on your tits” he said as he pulled out of me and roughly turned me over

He jerked himself over before moaning out my name as his lower abdomen constricted and he he came all over my tits

He came down from his high, picking his pants up and catching his breath

“Now how’s that for signing tits” he said lightly smacking me in my face

“Touché” I said rolling my eyes at him

“Let me clean you up, so I can take you home” he said

Chris had cleaned me up, and helped me clean the bar up again before I fully closed, and he decided to take me home

“So about that date?” He said when we pulled up to my house

“Yeah?” I asked him getting ready to get out

“Are you down?”he asked

“Of course! Pick me up tomorrow at 6” I said before kissing him on the lips, and walking to my house.

The End

I hope yall like this one! I haven’t done a Chris smut in a minute. Can’t wait to finish these imagines! I love writing 🤭❤️❤️

-J💅🏽

[ikinremu]

KINKTOBER DAY 2: Remus Lupin x Marking

My Girl

Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

! Smut Warning !

Without seeming overly brash - you had quite the fondness for when Remus would become possessive, despite him not crossing into that realm very often. It was rather strange, there just seemed to be something so enthralling about it - so enthralling that - okay, yes, - perhaps you sought it out, similarly to today.

You couldn't help but utilise your knowledge of his irks in a beneficial manner, nobody was getting hurt - quite the opposite really - so of course you'd acted upon those desires today.

A little flirtatious insinuation with another peer was harmless, and it'd gone just how you'd anticipated: leaving you trapped in your dorm with just your, rather agitated, boyfriend.

Clothed back pressed to the cold, rough surfaced bricks behind you, your stomach could only fizzle with this building heat.

"Listen, Remus.." You began, attempting to compress a victorious grin, and as you reached for his hand, yours were suddenly pinned above your head.

A harsh friction emerged, withholding a sudden collision between his lips your neck. Hot, airy breath swarmed beneath your jaw, gentle nibbles planted to your lower-lobe. With a sharp inhale, you lost all desire to complete your sentence, deeming it incredibly irrelevant as you revelled in the passion of these inflictions.

"Mine, you got that?" Remus whispered, a slight gravel lacing his voice. His callous thumb dug into the curve of your jaw, other hand using very little effort to uphold yours.

You offered a rather subtle nod, head tilted ever so slightly back as you further melted under your boyfriends touch. Roughly sucking at your fragile skin, his possessive intent was now wholly unmasked.

Deep, tawny eyes flitting up to meet yours, Remus slowly - skilfully - trailed his soft, balmy mouth down to your clavicle.

Accompanied by a gruff - though wavering - groan, he shifted his grasp upon your jaw to the low, elasticated neckline of your shirt, swiftly pulling the material to a rest beneath your bra.

"Gonna mark you up all pretty for me.." He uttered, capturing the smooth, thick flesh of your upper chest between his lips. "Show everyone you're my girl, yeah?"

Unbeknownst to it it or not, Remus was certainly fuelling your arousal, pushing it beyond what you'd originally foreseen.

Demonstrating the force required for his desired effect, he sucked with greater ferocity, your body immensely conflicted by the combination of both heat and shivers.

Further subjecting you to his control, he contrived an exceptionally tight squeeze to your wrists, keeping them so firmly pinned above your head. 

Dumbfounded, you remained largely quiet - more so in a verbal sense than in general audibility. Your stomach couldn't resist its fluttering as Remus' mouth darted between such careless inflictions, scattering, hot, darkening marks across your chest - neck not at all short of them either; it seemed he was completely lacking the intention of concealment.

You could so easily see the blatancy of what he'd left, and oddly enough, you were anything but phased.

With a collection of hushed, sultry whispers of  'My fuckin girl', and the drive of some additional, point-proving blemishes, Remus raised his head once more. Atoning the intimacy, he so tenderly brought his forehead to a gentle, weightless connection to yours, finally granting you the soft, kind collision of his lips pressing against your own.

"Good enough reminder?"

Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed! Please feel free to use the asks feature on my page for requests of oneshots/drabbles/blurbs etc.. would be greatly appreciated, though I will be responding to them after kinktober since i’m doing the full month! <3

[beansprean]

Accidentally made the extraordinarily terrible Empress Theresa required reading for this comic lmao (don't read it tho). Definitely a big meal for our boy.

My Familiar’s Ghost part 27

Masterpost

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Wide shot of the music room, Colin Robinson sitting in the foreground with Nadja standing in front of him. He is wearing a beige party hat and clapping gleefully as Nadja, also wearing a beige party hat and scowling in confusion, reads aloud from a book titled “Empress Teresa”. The cover is a clumsy painting of a woman with long black hair in a military uniform. Nadja reads, “I was the princess of the Surr-llivan clan of F-Framing-ham, Mass… Massen-choots-test? Because besides being cute I was a whiz in school and had a good disposition. All the relatives expected great things of me. Nobody could have dreamed of what I would do a few years later, and nobody would have believed it if they’d been told.” In the background, Laszlo, also wearing a beige party hat, is playing the Hamsterdance on his harpsichord and looking back at Colin with a smile. 1b. Close up of Laszlo at the harpsichord as Nadja shrieks from offscreen, “Laszlo what the shit is this?!” Laszlo calls back, smiling, “Try to make it through the first chapter, my darling! We did promise the boy a re-do party.” Ghost Guillermo phases into the room from an adjacent wall, tugging on his fingers nervously as he smiles at the scene. He is not wearing a beige party hat because he can’t, but the ribbons of wraith energy behind him are smooth and subdued. 1c. Reverse shot over Guillermo’s shoulder as Laszlo turns to him and offers a nod of acknowledgement, as close to a thank you as Laszlo can give. Guillermo nods back with a smile. In the background, Nadja pulls the book close to her face and continues reading, “Churchill, Hitler, and Lincoln will be footnotes in dusty history books a thousand years from now, and nobody remembers Charles Martel who saved Chri-“ She pauses and gags on the name, trying again with a different inflection. “Chhheeerrryyy…” Colin, sitting in an armchair across from her, says “Pace yourself, Nadja.” There is a jumbo tub of Legos in his lap and he is dropping prices purposefully on the floor. Nadja doll is slumped comfortably in the adjacent loveseat, wearing an identical dress to Nadja’s along with a beige party hat and grinning slyly up at her counterpart.

2a. Bust of Guillermo as he watches the scene, hands tucked behind his back and smiling with affection and satisfaction. Offscreen, Nadja snaps, “Colin Robinson, this is the most terrible book I have ever read!” Colin replies happily, “Yes, it is.” 2b. Repeat. Guillermo’s eyes flick over to the side in surprise as he notices something across the room. Offscreen, Colin continues, “Start that paragraph over, I missed it.” Nadja shrieks in frustration. 2c. Waist up shot of Nandor as he enters the room through the open curtain, fingers fiddling together and beige party hat strapped to his head. He looks up in surprise, meeting Guillermo’s gaze. Offscreen, Nadja exclaims “I am skipping the Jebus-man parts!” Colin replies facetiously, “Don’t worry. Theresa never talks about religion.” 2d. Reverse shot of Guillermo again, smiling hesitantly as he lifts his hand in a cautious wave. Offscreen, Nadja asks, “My broad bear, how is this pronounced?” Laszlo responds “‘Prime Minister’, my love. It is synonymous with ‘load of horseshit’.” Nadja crows, “Ooh, that I like!” 2e. Reverse shot of Nandor, perking up with a small smile and curling his fingers up and down in a shy little wave. 2f. Repeat. Nandor frowns at himself and looks away, hand lowering awkwardly. 2g. Reverse shot from behind Nandor’s hip as he walks further into the room. Colin calls from offscreen, “Nandor! Take your shoes off before you come through!” Nandor snaps back, “I will do no such thing, Colin Robinson, I see the evil bricks you have scattered about!” Colin whines, “C’mon, I’m just a little birthday boy! It’s my birthday!” In the background, Guillermo watches Nandor pass with a nervous, longing gaze, hands twisting together anxiously. The scraps of black energy behind him multiply and swirl around, looking more like a cloak than ever before. /end ID