#than the show look shitty AND dark

[esr10]

i think the lack of lightning on tv shows has to do with the expectancy of realism from viewers. using light — or rather lack thereof — to cover up for awkward choreography, not-so-perfect special effects, sfx makeup, etc. because we as viewers expect everyone to deliver hyper realistic results, even though the playing field is far from even. what we’re left with is dark shows :/

[demadogs]

There are things out there that our little minds will never comprehend.

DARK (2017-2020)

[lincolnlogsnfrogs]

y'all what if the Dark Harvest head pigeon was just evil ratatouille

like it grabs zim by the antennae and makes him do shit

[cuteniaarts]

Digitalised + coloured + redesigned version of my Suiren and Vaatu sketch from two days ago, as promised!!

Coming up with Suiren’s design was a very long process of trying and failing because after you’ve drawn 9+ different versions of one character, the creativity starts to run a little dry, but I’m actually really proud of this one, she looks absolutely adorable <3

(Also yeah I did mostly just scribble Vaatu’s pattern because who has the energy to draw the all out accurately. Not me, that’s who, I’m chronically tired. People who draw him on the regular have my utmost respect. He’s still a funky little guy though :D)

Bonus, Raava incessantly screaming inside Suiren (and being completely ignored because Suiren is tired of her) while all this is happening:

[bi-writes]

ghost is such a daddy, isn't he? ;) too bad he's such a dick. (18+)

but it's hard to find a donor. you've been single for practically your whole life, it's the whole reason you're looking to just get pregnant by yourself. you don't need a man--you can walk into a clinic and pick from their little flip book.

but none of them fit what you're looking for. too short, hairline too far back, you don't care for the look in their eyes or the occupation they chose or their descriptions of how much they like model trains and reading george orwell every christmas. they're john does in different colored suits, and they reek of entitlement and the need for perfection and lack the individuality that you crave.

not special, no--you're looking for an edge. and none of them have it.

you're glaring at your lieutenant from three hundred yards away when your eyes soften with realization. ghost is such a bastard to you; he snaps at you easily, uses his obvious stature to overpower you in the most inconvenient of situations, and he always turns his nose up at you for being even slightly less than perfection, just a smidge off your target or just below your personal record.

he demands more of everyone he commands, but you in particular he likes to pick on. you used to think it was because you were the only woman around, but that wasn't it. ghost isn't a misogynist, he's just a right asshole.

but a gorgeous one. not in the way he looks, per say, because his face isn't all that pretty. you've seen his face, glimpses of it, enough to put the puzzle together in your head. he wears mangled skin, torn apart at the seams and scarred to high hell, but ghost is more than just stitched together skin.

he's huge. large and so fucking well in charge. he takes up space, and he does it with intent. spreads his legs when he takes a seat, crosses his arms over his chest when he's standing idly by. his expressions aren't visible under the mask he wears, but it is very obvious when he isn't happy. his glare burns through the fabric, dark eyes narrowed intensely; it is impossible to not understand when ghost is less than amused by you.

he's so capable. you've seen him take apart his gun and put it back together many times. big fingers sliding over metal and fastening it back together with practiced ease. you've seen him haul over two hundred pounds of man over a railing, seen him set up his sniper rifle and shoot a target more than a thousand yards away. he's smart, and he knows what he's doing, and even in the face of uncertainty and chaos, he's oftentimes the voice of reason in the field, and it's sexy.

god, he's so fucking hot. especially when he's rolling up his sleeves, showing off one sleeve of shitty military tattoos and telling the private that's practically in tears what a fucking muppet he is for assembling his standard issue pistol without a fucking magazine loaded into it.

that's what you want.

someone resilient. capable of overcoming tragedy, of finding purpose even when there really isn't anything to live for. the drive of bettering yourself, of not fucking it up, of being able to breathe easy and get out of a corner even when the path ahead is just more of the unknown.

unable to die.

"ever thought of being a father, lieutenant?"

he laughs, bitterly, licking the pad of his thumb before rubbing at a spot on the scope of his rifle.

"fuckin' hate kids," he mutters. "loud. dirty." he grunts. "besides. bloodline dies with me. don't need anymore fuckin' rileys mucking up this place."

you bite your lip. it's not the worst reason you've ever heard. it's just too bad he's exactly the kind of baby daddy you're looking for.

"that's too bad, lieutenant," you purr, standing up. you pass by him, your hips swaying and brushing against his shoulder. it's enough of a touch that his gaze follows you as you leave, his eyes flickering to the curve of your ass as you leave. "you'd make such a good daddy."

the fuck?

it's hard to focus. you keep bending over in front of him; dropping papers, picking things up, leaning over desks just to make his face twitch under the mask. you're constantly in his line of sight, wearing the tightest fucking shirts he's ever seen. cleavage on display, definitely a violation of protocols that no one is enforcing, and it's making his head spin as you lick chocolate off your fingers and swipe it off the curve of your breast. he thinks you must be mad when you make eye contact with him and keep it as you slip two fingers into your mouth and suck.

the worst was when he was stuck in the back of a humvee with you. the back was packed, soldiers pressed together as they rode back to base. he was sweaty and exhausted, leaning his head back as the truck rattled along the dirt road. on a particularly rough bump, you bounced into his lap, ass pressed back against his pelvis. on instinct, one gloved hand caught you by the curve of your waist, and you hummed as you leaned back against him.

"sorry, lieutenant," you had cooed, in that soft, honeyed voice he hated. "am i hurting you?"

"fuck you, sergeant," he had snapped, but his growl was cut short when you arched your back a little, nestling your ass against the fucking hard rock in his pants.

"just happy to see me then?"

acckkk, a fucking fiend, you are. pressing up against him when you slip into line in front of him in the mess hall. asking him for help because your aim is off, just to look at him from over your shoulder and give him that smile. the absolute doe eyes you give him when he berates you for the hundredth time that day, just for you to mumble back, "oh...yes, of course, sir..."

ngghhh...and he's thinking about you. thinking about smoothing a hand down your back as he bends you over a desk. thinking about what it would be like if you climbed over him on his cot and sat your fat ass down onto his face. thinking about the sounds you'd make, the big, wet eyes you'd give him, how good you'd look in his bed and wearing his clothes and cumming on his cock--

"the fuck are y'doin' ta me?" he growls in your ear. you blink up at him, tilting your head back, leaning against his door.

"johnny said you were training, so i thought i'd wait for you. got something real important to talk to you about."

you smile at him innocently, ducking under his arm as you slink into his room. when he shuts the door, you spin around to face him again, giggling.

"there's something i want."

"out with it."

"something i need."

"fuckin' tolk then, yeah?"

"want a baby, lieutenant."

"yeah, right mad about tha', luv."

"want your baby."

he laughs, humorless, "be fuckin' honest."

but you are honest. you're honest when you smile wider, and you're honest when you turn around. you're honest when you bend over onto your forearms against the cot in his room, and you're honest when you shimmey your trousers just low enough, right under your ass, showing off the wet cunt you've had since watching his arms flex as he stacked boxes after breakfast.

he steps forward, leaning over, smoothing two big hands up your plush thighs before spreading your ass, watching your little hole pucker. he smirks, chuckling low.

"'f y'want t'be a riley so bad, don't need to 'ave m'baby, swee'eart," he murmurs, but the echo of his belt undoing clinks in the room anyways. you squirm a little when you hear the zipper of his pants.

"but i want it," you whine, and you slide your arms out in front of you, pressing back against him as you grip the thin sheets on his bed. "i want it!"

"shhhhh," he scolds, gripping his cock with a calloused hand and shoving it between your thighs. you moan as he wets his cock along your folds, grinding slow, getting himself nice and slick. "y'want m'baby, swee'eart? wanna 'ave my cubs? gonna be bears, love. they're gonna split y'open, got such a little cunt."

you cry out, pressing back against him.

"want it! i want it!"

ghost chuckles again, laying over you, his weight pinning you down as he laces his fingers with yours. he's so big, you can feel him heavy and throbbing between your thighs. you need it, even if it doesn't take, even if he just takes you apart right now, you need it.

"you'll make such a good mama though," he mutters, mostly to himself. "fuck...you'll get so bloody nice and fat. nnghh..." he lets go of one of your hands to smack his paw against one side of your ass, gripping it tight and jiggling it. "every part of ya. right for the taking, luvvie. oll f'me."

he reaches down between you, notching the head at your entrance before sinking in easy. you're so wet now, dripping between your thighs, and he grunts as his hips meet your ass quick.

"tits'll get so big..." he smacks his lips together before giving you a heavy thrust. "fuckin' hell...takin' y'out afta this...gonna make you a fuckin' riley today. how's tha' sound, aye?"

you gurgle a little, a line of drool dribbling down your chin. he leans over, pushing his mask up, and he licks your spit off your face, his breath hot as he starts to pick up the pace, fucking into you quick.

"want y'just like this, every day," he growls in your ear. "in m'bed...spread out for me..." he sucks on the edge of your ear, making you cry. "gonna 'ave y'for oll three meals, swee'eart--fuck--until we know it takes."

you smile, your cheek smushed into the bed and rubbing raw against the sheets as he fucks into you from behind. his big hands squeeze your own, holding onto you tight, and you push back against him, your orgasm coming unexpectedly as he babbles in your ear about your tight cunt, your pretty face, the perfect place for him to empty his cock. it makes your vision go white, but you don't feel satiated until he holds his hips against you from behind and curses as he spills inside.

so creamy, slick and soft, but he refuses to waste a single drop. he keeps his pelvis against you, wrapping a forearm around your waist and yanking you up until your back meets his chest. you giggle, dizzy and a little drunk, leaning your head back against him.

"knew you'd fuck me," you mumble, sticking your tongue out, not satisfied until he leans down and kisses you, sucking your tongue into his mouth and kissing you wet and sloppy. he laughs, his chest rumbling, and you put your hands over his, scratching along his skin as he licks into your mouth.

"tha' right, luv? why's that?"

you giggle. "because i always get what i want, simon."

next

[deadsetobsessions]

I just really like the trope of Danny getting summoned, alright?

——

After he shoved Pariah Dark in his coffin shaped locker what what Danny hoped to be for all of eternity, the half unfortunately inherited all of Pariah’s responsibilities.

“What was it again? With great powers comes great responsibilities?” Danny let his head hit the table with an audible thunk. He’s in his “office,” the ghost zone’s approximation of where he might be able to do work seriously. The house- the extension of his haunt- had added the room right next to his bedroom. Danny had to lift all of the paperwork from Pariah’s castle (that’s now also a part of what’s considered Danny’s but he doesn’t think about that) and move it to his main haunt.

He prayed to the universe at large to let him off. Danny hated doing homework- science not withstanding because at least he understood that- let alone an asshole’s centuries worth of work. Danny bemoaned the fact that he was elected the King. He didn’t even defeat Pariah all by himself, so why couldn’t the others do it?!

Like a wave of merciful fate, the beginning tugs of a summoning pulled at his core.

“Thank Ancients!”

Danny scrambled to grab a sticky note, unfortunately glowing green as things tended to in the Ghost Zone, and scribbled down that he’s been summoned and to not look for him until his vacation work was done.

With that note done, Danny decided to bring his A game to the summoning. Allowing his secondary form to wash over him, Danny quickly checked the mirror to make sure he was presentable. A bright glowing ice crown- not the crown of fire, because it was essentially useless without the ring and Danny wasn’t keen on being a king, let alone a near infinitely powerful one- settled across his brow showed his status. A cape, this form’s best feature, made of an expanse of galaxies, nebulae, and frost cling at the end was swept over his shoulders and pinned together with a cloak pin made of clusters of black holes.

A couple of additions to his normal hazmat suit and his trusty thermos at his side, Danny all but dove into the summoning magic with an excited whoop of glee.

As Danny got closer to the magic-made portal, he could hear the whispers of the living presences beyond it.

His summoners! Hopefully it’s not a cult again, even if he thought they were pretty funny trying to summon the king of the dead to kill more people. Not funny “haha,” funny weird.

How should he do this…? Scary? Funny? Oh! Or maybe he should ditch the crown!

Danny grinned, waving his hand to dispel the crown of ice. It was nice, but he was in a dungeon critter mood today.

“Oh, this is going to be gooood.”

Danny cracked his knuckles and put on the most dead-inside-and-outside expression he could manage, modeling it off of the Nasty Burger workers during closing shift. The halfa stepped through the portal.

——

“The ritual is completed! You will all face the might of Pariah Dark, the eternal king of the dead!” The villain of the week cackled as his cult cheered. Wonder Woman, scuffed and injured from the magical bolts these magic users had shot at her earlier, grimaced and raised her sword.

“We will defeat Pariah Dark,” she proclaimed. Her allies rallied at her proclamation and readied themselves for another fight. “This world will not bow to the likes of you!”

“We are all but mere ants before the king of the dead! Pariah Dark will bring forth the reckoning this shitty world deserves!”

“Actually, Pariah Dark’s kind of busy, so you’re gonna have to leave a message.”

Green Arrow’s arrow jerked towards the new voice. Batman paused, hand holding batarangs at the ready. He, out of all of them, knew better than to underestimate a young voice.

A gloved hand shoved through the green portal, using the edges like a door frame to heave itself through. A humanoid shape, with sharp ears all but crawled out of the Lazarus green portal. Batman wondered if this was what Jason saw when he came back to life.

"Lord Pariah Dark is busy?!"

The figure- a boyish not-human- heaved a sigh. "Do you people seriously think that the High King of the Infinite Realms isn't swamped with work?"

"And who are you supposed to be? His secretary?" Hal asked, Ring glowing and at the ready. Wonder Woman tensed and mentally struck Hal away from the list of people to consider for diplomatic missions.

"Me? I'm a glorified paper pusher." The being turned back to the cultists, his cape containing the universe swished behind him. "Did you have a message for Pariah Dark?"

"He was meant to rain down death and destruction!"

"Okay, first of all, I feel like you guys are missing a really important point." The being pointed at the cult leader. “It’s not called the King of the Dead for no reason, you know. Death comes for everyone eventually. Also, I have to do a seriously giant amount of paperwork every time one of you fruitloops gets the bright idea to cause an influx of deaths.”

Danny stomped across the circle, grabbed the collar of the cultist leader’s cloak and yanked him down. He shook him. “Do you people have any idea how annoying it is?! Huh?! Do you know how long the A-354 Form is?! Stop trying to get Pariah to kill people! I’m sick of the paperwork, dammit!”

"How- how did you get out of the circle?!"

The cultists and the heroes squared up, ready to fight the possible common enemy: Danny.

Danny is having the best time of his half life. Screw kingly dignity, Danny’s gotta de-stress somehow! He had a whole bag of complaints!

"You wrote the circle wrong, idiots! Ancients, are you people even literate? What even are those scribbles?" Danny kept shaking the cultist. Wow, what an amazing stress ball!

“Uh- hey, he looks kind of sick…” The Flash said, trying to be a good hero and mediate before escalating. Danny snarled and Flash held up his hands, gulping in fear as Danny’s eyes narrowed at him. “Did I… do something?”

“You,” Danny hissed. “You mother- fruitloop! Stop screwing with the timeline, you giant red-! Do you know how annoying it is to readjust the death count every time one of you little merry red jesters takes a jaunt through time and space?! Do you even know how many complaints I had to field?! Oh, boy you’re all going to regret summoning me today, because I’ve had a long time to think about what I’d do to everyone who made me work overtime!”

Danny bared his teeth, eyes sparkling with mirth as he froze the cultists.

"We're not letting you take over the world," Hawk-Woman said, raising her mace that pulsed with electricity.

Danny snorted to hide his wince. "I'm not interested. Just let me punch him once. Just once." Danny pointed at the Flash.

"Honestly, I can't even blame you," Black Canary muttered, fists raised.

"Wha-! Canary! That's so rude! You traitor!"

"Shouldn't have put skittles in my shoes then. Those hurt, Flash."

"Enough." Everyone shut up at the sound of Batman's command. "What do you mean they wrote the circle wrong."

Danny, who was watching the byplay with interest, shrugged. "They wanted to summon the Ghost King, right? We've had a... change of leaders recently."

"Who is the leader now?"

Danny waggled a finger at Batman. "Nuh-uh. I'm gonna collect my over-time compensation, which is punching the Flash, and then we can negotiate for information."

"Flash."

"I don't want to get punched, Bats!"

"The alternative is that I let the current Ghost King have a go at you."

"Flash."

"Oh my god, just get punched, Barry!" Danny heard Green Lantern Hal Jordan whisper.

"Ugh, fine. No one video this."

Immediately, three phones go up to record the Flash getting decked by a teenage looking ghost. Danny floated closer and wound his fist back, letting loose some of the ghost strength he normally keeps restrained. "This is for my overtime and for Clockwork, you jerk."

The halfa slammed his fist straight into the Flash's face, knocking him clear into the air. Superman catches him but Danny no longer paid attention to the Flash, petty vengeance enacted.

"Honestly, I don't have a problem with you as a person. You're kind of cool. Break the timeline again in the next three months, though, and you're on my shit-list."

"What do you want in exchange for information?"

Danny hummed. "Depending on the level of information, and I reserve the right to not answer any questions. For the name of the current Ghost King..."

He did want that new gaming console. And Jazz could use some help with her rent.

"I want $5,000 and a plate of really good spaghetti."

"I have cash."

Danny nodded at the Dark Knight. "You just carry $5,000 in cash on you? Who does that?"

"I like to be prepared."

"And he's rich," Superman chimed in.

The Flash reappeared with a plate of spaghetti from an Italian place he teleported to. "Here you go. Fresh, and pleasedon'tscrewwithmyafterlife."

Danny shoveled the spaghetti into his mouth, jaw unhinging like a particularly disturbing snake right before he dumped the whole thing- plate and all- down his throat. "Thanks! The food didn't even try to kill me this time! You're good."

"Does your food try to kill you all of the time?!" The Flash- Barry, apparently- asked.

Danny nodded as he took the cash from Batman's gloved hands. "Totally. It sucks."

"Identity." Batman demanded.

"Oh, yeah. The current ghost king is me."

"...What."

"You have been swindled. Bamboozled. Outwitted and outsmarted," Danny snickered, shoving the bundle of cash in his chest. "But seriously, I'm the king. We got rid of Pariah a while ago."

The crown of ice materialized.

"You said you were a glorified paper pusher!" Hawk-Woman chortled.

"I am! I'm pushing so many papers across my desk, it's unending, I swear!"

Batman growled. "You tricked us."

Danny smirked, "You got tricked." Red Robin, in the corner, snorted quietly. "Anyways, if you've got more interesting things around here, I'll considering busying myself with that instead of sentencing you to an afterlife of paperwork."

The adults straightened, grimacing. "Beast Boy is green," Hal offered up.

"Hey!" Beast Boy shouted, offended at the easy way Hal offered him up. He turned to Danny. "But have you ever seen a green chinchilla? Super cute. Watch!"

"Woah!" Danny clapped. Yes, he'll hang out with them before dragging himself back.

[frogchiro]

I-I just can't stop thinking about Captain MacTavish and his stupidly large, uncut cock and full, low hanging breeder balls :((

He's just,, so much man you get me? He's large, and bulky, well developed muscles moving and flexing beneath a layer of fat, thick, slightly tanned skin and a thick layer of dark hair all over his chest, tummy and happy trail and he's fucking proud of it.

Captain MacTavish isn't afraid to strut and parade himself like a prized stallion, showing off in front of all the soldiers but especially in front of you, like that one time in some backwater safe house.

It was a real shit hole, barely holding together but it was better than nothing and poor little you had almost cried out of relief when you set the heavy backpack with your technical equipment down on the dusty floor, Captain MacTavish, Captain Price and Gaz following shortly after. Except there was one tiny problem; there was a very limited amount of warm water supply so either you shower all together or someone will get an ice cold bath, and with the raging snow storm outside, the rapidly declining temperature and only a shitty old fireplace to keep you 'warm' the answer was obvious.

While you were given the 'courtesy' of having a flimsy old curtain hung to protect your modesty, to be honest you kinda resigned from it since it was basically see-through anyway.

So now you were all naked, your poor soft body sore from all the running and carrying heavy equipment and to top it all off you were surrounded by equally naked, powerful men too :(( While Soap, Price and Gaz made a half-assed promise to not look, they obviously did just that; sneaking glances at your soft tits and broad hips, thick thighs all nice and bitable looking- but the worst of all was Captain MacTavish :((

He wasn't even trying to be subtle, he was shameless in fact. Soap was standing the closest to you and he made use of that position, flexing his burly body and turning you you could see his half-hard cock hanging between his powerful legs, balls hanging full and swollen form all the backed up sperm; fighting always made adrenaline and testosterone run hot through his veins and the close proximity and scent of a pretty young thing like you?? If Soap was a worse man he'd bend you over right there and then and stuff his fat cock inside your poor cunt, tip right against your cervix and all and maybe, just maybe his cock drooled a nice amount of precum while smirking like a wolf at your flustered squeak and the annoyed, jealous groans of the men around him :((

[bunbunlovestowrite]

Yandere!Tentacle Monster x Fem!Lighthouse keeper! Reader

Damn that title long

Cws: Tentacles are referred to as more than one, reader is a bit of a perv for wanting to bang monsters, consensual somnophilia, excessive cum, cumflation, penetration, the monster is buff ngl 💦, this is supposed to be freaky/kinky :p also reader is morally grey

SFW

You've always loved solitude. Even when you were a young girl in foster care.

Fog, mist, rain, thunder, dark clouds, all of those added to the feeling of being enclosed where no one else was.

You don't like sunny days. Not in an emo way but in a need for a calm, and the blistering sun couldn't bring you that.

Fast forward 20 something years and you struggle to stay at a job because of people. Rude customers, loud kids, lazy coworkers. Hell you got fired from your local grocer because you threw a cabbage at some entitled asshole.

And by some luck, you weren't in cuffs yet. Fate? Prolly lol

You were reading the newspaper one day and saw an ad for a lighthouse keeper. It must have been urgent if it was in the paper 4 times.

The people you met for the job were shady as hell. But they offered to pay good for you to just take care of the lighthouse completely alone for 6 months.

They put you on a boat and shipped your ass out to an island hours away from the mainland.

It had the lighthouse (duh), a cabin for you, a very small forest, and beaches covered in driftwood and seaweed.

It was foggy, cold, and wet with no sun peeking through the clouds.

Perfect.

The people who hired you were eager to get off the island. So immediately after showing you the basics they ran off.

The cabin was old and rustic, with a few holes in the roof that were covered by aged duct tape.

There was an outdoor shower and the place used gas lamps for light.

But you enjoyed it. The solitude.

Now let's skip to two months later.

You got the hang of keeping the light on and keeping it fixed. The stairs definitely worked you out though.

You spent 80% of your time using the small workshop to repair the cabin. It eventually looked slightly livable.

Everything was completely normal

Until that day on the beach.

You were outside your cabin showering.

The outdoor shower didn't exactly have curtains so you were exposed to the beach it faced.

The hot water kept you comfortable in the cold weather and you were relaxed...until you heard a growl.

You assumed it was an animal and looked around when you saw something light purple disappear into the ocean waves.

Coral you thought just coral

You went on with your week like nothing happened but you always felt watched.

It wasn't until one night during a storm you felt it.

A storm had hit the island hard, it was freezing and your shitty blankets did little.

You barely managed to fall asleep when something warm engulfed you, arms and slimy embraces.

You screamed in shock and fear but your unwelcome bedmate held you harder and wouldn't let you move.

It was only after you calmed down that it relaxed.

Light purple skin was what you noticed when looking down. With scales in areas that were slightly darker.

The tentacles were wrapped around your legs tightly, writhing in certain areas.

You got a better look when your holder put you on your back and sat above you.

A humanoid creature with light purple skin and what seemed to be a jellyfish head sat on its actual head. It had no nose and completely white eyes, not to mention a gentle smile.

It cooed at you, dragging it's hands up your stomach and sliding up your bra.

Slimy and warm, that was it's skin.

You normally would have thrashed and kicked, but maybe it was the pheromones the creature left out, or how one tentacle pressed right against your cunt through your damp shorts.

But you moaned when it touched you. A soft, unashamed moan.

The tentacle at your shorts practically tore them off, panties included, and it slid up and down your slit and flicked against your clit.

You watch as it's hand fondled your tits and pinched your nipples, its eyes slightly lidded.

You let your body roam down it's chest and saw it didn't have a cock. It was kinda like a ken doll. But the tentacles must have the same effect as one when you saw white precum drip from the larger tentacles tip.

More tentacles held your arms and legs open while the tentacle squirmed into you, thick and struggling.

There wasn't a part of you it didn't fill. Your stomach bulged slightly as it didn't wait and immediately moved in you, wiggling before pulling out and slamming back in.

The cabin was full of lewd wet noises and your cries, along with the creature chirps and coos while it pet your head that night.

NSFW

There wasn't a second it didn't have a tentacle on or in you.

Despite its main body being in the water there was a tentacle wrapped around your legs that you never found the start of.

It had an iron grip and wouldn't come off unless the creature itself was nearby.

When the tentacle wasn't dormant it would rub against your clit through your pants or would be in you, gently drawing orgasms after orgasms until you begged it to let you breathe.

The creature was never gone for more than a few hours. And when it came back it came with gifts.

Shells, pearls, fish, jewelry it made or rusty jewelery it found on the bottom of the ocean.

You noticed it liked it when you wore the jewelry during sex, mainly due to how much rougher it was.

Then there was the slight fear of getting knocked up.

Every single time you had sex you would try and tell it to pull out but it would just smile and pet your head before cumming in you for the third time that hour. And you loved it.

Sometimes, when you were especially needy, you'd put on more of a show when showering.

Even touching yourself when you knew it was watching. The creature loved it.

You'd see it stand in the water and would beckon you closer, to which you happily obliged.

You'd meet in the water and it would kiss you roughly before lifting your legs around its waist and kept you above the water as it fucked its tentacles deep into you. The water mixing with the (possible) gallons of cum that spilled from you

One of your favorite things was waking up to its coos and growls.

You'd be held tight by its tentacles while it found shoved it's tounge in your cunt, hitting deep spots with its flexible prongs.

Other times it would wake up to you using one of its tentacles, whining when you couldn't get it to stay stiff by itself. It would act asleep and slowly stiffens the tentacle so you could have your fun.

What a perv you are

But then again the sun's gonna blow up one day so :p

It seemed to have infinite stamina and an infinite libido.

It could be the most inconvenient time ever and all you need to do is give it a look before your suspended in the air by your hands while it curls a smaller tentacle around your clit and fucks you with its thick one.

The creature was possessive before you knew it was there, especially when people dropped off your supplies.

But now that your it's? A whole new genre of possessive.

On time you had to keep a straight face while talking to someone cause the mini tentacle was rubbed right against your g-spot while somehow rubbing your clit under your skirt.

It even started biting you hard enough to leave marks.

--

Requests are open :)

[councilofcastamere]

WINTER NIGHTS | CREGAN STARK X TARG!READER ꧂

a b r i d g e m e n t : With tensions rising, your elder half-sister Rhaenyra arranges for you to seek asylum in the freezing land of the North. And fortunately for you, Cregan is there to show you how Northmen operate.

TW: penetration, loss of virginity, breeding kink, mentions gender roles but in a sexy way, sexual tension, sibling jealousy, childhood neglect, mentions of death by birth, shitty character development

A/N: I know the girly portrayed is Visenya but her body is tea in this so maybe I do know best…

The second daughter. The oh-so passed over maiden. Not belonging to anything, nor belonging to nothing. Not the first, and not the last. An ever enduring memory to a passed over era. Nothing significant. Never anything significant.

That’s what you were. Insignificance. A beautiful insignificance, if you could see beauty in tragedy. Beauty in all the ways of life. All the little horrible things that make up a big, beautiful, picture. People shan’t look close, you’d assure yourself.

But you were you. Born to the everlasting way of royal life. To the peaceful Viserys, and his second wife, a woman whose name is not all that important. Another maiden from a noble house that perished to childbirth. Lost her life, giving life.

And as it did not to many maidens, the Gods did not grant you the chance to grow up with your mother. The blood that dripped down her thighs had covered you from head to toe as you came into existence, and she had naught of you in her arms before a deep and long slumber overcame her. The stranger had come for her, and he did not slow down on its way. He’d taken her as quick as she’d given you to the world. A quick exchange, you’d suppose.

Now and then you think about her. What she might have looked like, what she might have liked, what she might have been had she survived the wretched burden of your existence. You’d often wonder if infants who survived childbirth ever felt as deep a burden as she did. To have your very first breath of life tainted with the death of an innocent. Tainted with tragedy.

Growing up in King’s Landing hadn’t been all that as it sounded. You’d never really been that happy, as ungracious as it sounded.

You had an older sister - Rhaenyra - who’d occasionally humoured you. You’d never seen much of her, really. Perhaps it was your own fault as well. For not actively seeking her out. For not being the younger sister one was supposed to be. Some people - as close to you as they may be - are just unattainable in your mind. Your kin aren’t your kin until you allow it.

You have better companions than her, you figured. You had your lady-in-waitings. Lady Vievenne of house Swann. Lady Laycie of house Oldflowers. Lady Claere of house Ambrose. Lady Evelyne of house Hightower, who was, by all accounts, a gift from your newest stepmother, Alicent of the house Hightower.

What you also had was younger siblings. Such as Aegon. Though he is naught but a skirt enthusiast, swimming along the sea of young maidens at his whim. But he cares not whether they are, does he?

And oh, do not get yourself started on the one-eyed prince and that smug little smile on his sharp-featured face. Nonetheless, he was gentle. Oh so gentle with his touch. And oh so sinister in the way that made you feel important enough to be in his good graces.

However, you chose to distance yourself from all parties involved as fate made it clear what it had in store. A great slap to the great Targaryen dynasty. A dark cloud looming over the already curse-clad clan.

For even you knew that the only thing that could tear down the House of the Dragon, was itself.

“Sister.” you greeted one late evening, having taken flight to Dragonstone on your she-dragon, Starfyre. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“…y/n.” the elder sister called out, a small smile on her lips. “I… am glad for your visit.”

“…I’m certain you are,” you say, trying with all your might to contain a frown.

You eyed her awkwardly as she wiped her sweaty hands off her dress, letting out a sigh as the elder royal wasn’t quite certain how to approach the topic.

“I… understand… things quite haven’t been… that active, in our kinship,” Rhaenyra speaks up, taking a step closer. “And for that, I apologise.”

You could only nod, a small smile gracing your lips at the heartwarming confession of absent love.

“I apologise, also.” you smiled, your hands finding each other behind your back. “I suppose I should have been the one to seek your company and counsel as well.”

“Good.” Rhaenyra smiled awkwardly, a silence engulfing the echo-ridden chambers. “The reason, as to why I called you, might be surprising.”

You froze slightly, heart pounding as the possibilities of implications travelled through your mind. The goosebumps on your arms grew more prominent as a cold breeze passed through.

“Oh?” you answered, cocking a brow. “And what might that be, sister?”

“I ask of you to travel to the North,” Rhaenyra admits, a tone of seriousness overshadowing the warm moment. “I have already sent a raven to Lord Cregan Stark, and he has agreed to host you. If it pleases you, of course.”

No answer came out of your lips, save for your a mere breath. You felt a pang in your heart, consuming your every emotion, making certain you cannot detect how you feel about the news.

A dragon in the north? What a jest. You’d do better in Dorne, surrounded by sun-kissed squires and stable boys than laddish lordlings and Northern butchers.

“And… why should I?” you asked, respect in your tone. “Pardon me, my sister, but why have you made this decision for me?”

“Tensions are rising, y/n. You know that as well as I do.” Rhaenyra sighs, her body language giving up on its tense posture. “And I am aware of your… complex feelings on it. But to the North you must. I’m sending Rhaena to the Va-”

“Yes, because Rhaena gets to be hosted by a relative of yours, in safety. Meanwhile you sent me off to some Northern stranger!”

“Y/n.” Rhaenyra warned, raising a brow. She took a step closer as you composed your words. “You are my sister, and I will have you safe in the North. The Northmen are honourable men, and in time you’ll know.”

✫彡

And so you were, clad in thick fur, lady Vivenne and lady Evelyne at both sides of yourself. Across from you sat three servants, and somewhere else sat your sworn shield.

“It will be splendid.” Evelyne beamed, properly adjusting her hair, tied up in a bun, similar to the ones the older maidens wear. “We shall meet every dusk, and speak about our day. In front of the fire.”

“Not if I can help it.” you sighed softly. “Apologies, my ladies, but I’ll let you two get at it. I’d love to explore the North in solitude.”

“Right…” Vivenne nodded, looking through the small peep holes as the carriage slowed down, just outside the gates of Winterfell. “We’ve arrived, I suppose. You’ll have to greet Lord Stark. If he’s anything we’ve heard of and more, I wish you luck.”

You only nodded, watching as your ladies exited the carriage, standing at the side of the door. Their faces are cast down, as if in mourning. Perhaps they’re mourning the life of luxury provided at King’s Landing.

You could not blame them for it, really. From growing up in their own house, to growing up in the Royal house, to trade it again to live to see the snowy winters of Winterfell.

You shook slightly, the cold air hitting your face in an instant as you slightly lifted your dress, taking a step out of the three provided for the carriage.

You looked ahead of you, eyes locking on the noblemen and women, standing straight and proud. The women bore clothes of low quality, so obviously sewn to fit any class. The men wore dark furs, contrasting to the blue clothing of the opposite sex.

And in the midst of it, stood Cregan Stark, accompanied by a mere little boy of just two years of age. Your eyes locked upon his stormy-grey ones, his face etched into a stern expression, eyes focused on yours.

You maintained the eye contact, taking each step closer to him.

“Princess Y/N.” Cregan greeted formally, taking your soft hand in his. “Welcome to Winterfell. I am Lord Cregan Stark.”

“Thank you, Lord Stark.” you smile, curtsying in a fashionable manner. Your eyes stood glued on his as his lips brushed against the palm of your hand. “I’m truly honoured to be here.”

“…I’m certain you are.” Cregan answered, eyeing you skeptically.

Hearing false compliments wasn’t out of the ordinary for the wolf of Winterfell. He knew well enough that you weren’t suited for the North. You were a Southern lady, used to the life of feasts, luxury, and sparkly dresses.

“Let us go inside, shall we?” you smiled charmingly, looking up at the tall castle with dread in your eyes.

“Aye, so we shall.” Cregan nodded, his broad shoulders most notable as he sauntered into the opened gates.

✫彡

The first night went unfamiliar to you, the harsh blows of the cold weather creating a prominent presence looming over the already melancholic times.

You sat in your chambers, sitting at the stony window sill as you watched Cregan from above.

The lord was overlooking young squires on the courtyard, engaged in conversation with the knight in charge of guiding the young to-be-knights.

All dressed in fur, shoulders looking as if they were padded. Cregan’s hair was tied up, with two front strands escaping and hanging loose. His grey-blue eyes stood glued at watching the young squire’s techniques, and you could only sigh as you got lost in his appearance.

Ever since stepping foot into the North of Westeros, you’d developed a strange sense of interest in the beauty of Northern men. How they all dressed so grimly, but intimidating. How they’re oh-so honourable and hard working. How they always seemed so clean shaven but rugged all at once.

And you could not help but wonder what it would be like had you wedded one of them.

Being completely honest, you’d never really been the sort of maiden to stay inside of her chambers, waiting for her husband to return from his duty, deprived of affection.

With any Southern lord, being a doting unappreciated wife would never cross your mind.

But with Northern men, however, you had the feeling your efforts wouldn’t go unnoticed.

Before you could continue your vulgarly confusing thoughts, you saw Cregan’s eyes shift to yours, finding your gaze.

You could only lean against the window, a hand on the stony side as you gazed back at him. Your hair was loose, and you were dressed in your creamy beige nightdress.

You held his gaze for a moment, until ultimately turning away, leaving the implications of that gaze to his imagination.

✫彡

By the third day, you’d been reading in the old library belonging to House Stark. You’d sat on a plush seat, the dusty book on your lap as your gentle fingers flipped through the pages.

But you weren’t alone.

Cregan Stark sat near you, his knees in almost touching proximity to yours.

“Aye, the North is cold, but it’s honest.” he tells you, gently shutting his own book. “The snow doesn’t lie about its intention. No courtly games like they play in the South.”

“Oh, please.” you smiled, shutting your book as well. your body shifted so it was facing his, resting your head on one hand. “The courtly games are what makes it so fun.”

“Now, riddle me this.” You smiled, noting his full attention on you. His body language exuded calmness, and you felt secure in the knowledge that his comfort lies with you. “How do you not like courtly games? Personally, it makes my life all the more amusing.”

“I suppose it’s all jesting for you, princess.” Cregan said, his eyes resting on yours. “Amusement or not, I’d rather know where I stand…”

“With you, however…” His eyes trailed down to your bare shoulder, the white nightdress you’re wearing very much a sight of sore eyes. “I think I know.”

“Oh, do you?” you teased, cocking a brow. “And how so, pray tell?”

“Well…” he grunted, shifting in his seat to tighten the proximity around you two. “You’d do well not to cross any Northern man. They don’t take well to… courtly games.”

You only smiled at that, your upper body instinctively leaning in, albeit torturously slow.

“And, uh, suppose I… marry a Northern lord.” you teased quite coquettishly, a hand moving to rest on the thick fur coating his body. “What am I in for.”

You watched as his smirk only widened, gently taking the hand that rested on his fur, and taking it in his.

“Marry a Northern lord like me, and have your nights warmed under the thick fur of blankets.” he says, his thumb rubbing against your knuckles. “Northern loyalty runs deep, princess. That’s what you’d be in for.”

You nodded slowly, and you could not help but notice those coloured eyes of his descending onto your perky breasts.

Great, this was all going well so far. “I’d imagine… do you think he’d gift me a pup? I’ve always wanted a tiny pet, to keep.”

“Yeah?” The lord licked his lips, a hand resting on your waist. “You think you’d handle a wolf properly?”

“Well, I would.” you smiled, nodding in agreement. “I’m a dragon… and dragons do not surrender that easily.”

You smiled, shifting in your seat again as Cregan amusedly indulged you in your silly thoughts. “Just imagine it, my lord. I’d be holding that pup every night trying to get it to warm to me.”

Your hand slowly, but surely, trickled down to his clothed thigh, trying to maintain a sense of quiet intimacy.

“You’ll have your work cut out for you, then.” his voice lowered, bordering on husky. “Wolves aren’t so easily tamed, not even by someone with…”

He paused for a moment, a hand gently taking the one you placed on his thigh.

“…your charms.”

You’d have a cheeky comeback on the tip of your tongue, had it not been for Cregan’s lips descending upon yours, clashing together like Blackwoods and Brackens.

You let out a soft breath as you eased into the kiss, feeling his large hands grip your waists as if his life depended on it.

Your hands moved from his shoulders, to his neck, and then to his armoured chest. The armour he carried felt cold to your hands, yet it made it all the more sinful.

“Did you have this in mind?” you murmured against his lips, tongue circling his as you so sloppily attempted to kiss him. “Seducing me?”

The silence engulfed you two for a moment, only being overshadowed by the sound of soft breaths.

“You have it wrong, princess.” he breathed, firmly planting you upon his lap, your back pressing against his chest. “Do you take me for a halfwit?”

You smiled, looking over your shoulder as you attempted to chase his lips with yours again.

“No, but I certainly did not take you for a man so easily seduced.” you teased, guiding his hands to your clothed breasts. “You don’t seem the type to give in that easily.”

“Because it’s untrue.” he spoke up, lips brushing to against your neck. “But do you honestly think nothing would be done about the way you saunter around, looking as you do?”

His hands slowly tugged against your nightdress, pressing a hard kiss to your achy jaw before pulling away.

“Lay yourself down on the carpet.” he commanded, hands shifting to peel off his fur coat, along with his armour and tunic.

All you could do was nod and watch on as his armour went discarded on the floor, the metal material cranking against the stone ground.

His bare chest was now visible, the defining abs illuminated by the glowing fire. His hair messed up when he threw his tunic over his head.

“Cregan, I-"

And in one moment, you felt his large body overshadow yours, clashing lips again. Cregan lifted his body as to not crush you, hands on either side of your head.

You only permitted yourself to breathe unevenly, stead of moan. Your hands found his shoulders, desiring to pull him closer than possible.

“Ever since you’ve arrived you’d been nothing but trouble.” Cregan murmured, lips finding your throat. “Sauntering around with your ladies, endlessly teasing me.”

Your legs only shifted to wrap around his waist, back slowly arching at the kisses.

He took notice, and let one of his hands pin you down, lips descending towards your perky breasts.

“Gods, you’re wrong for this.” he grunted, swirling his tongue around the nipple. “For provoking me, as you did yesterday, and the day before that.”

“For thinking you have the authority to do this to a lord.” he breathed, your small breast fitting into his large palm.

“For…” he continued, kissing down your stomach, before ultimately glancing back at you “…thinking you’d get away with this.”

“I did not think I’d get away with this.” you tease, watching as he moves face-to-face again. “Which is why I did it.”

Your hands find his muscled arms, squeezing it gently. “I want to know how Northern men do it.”

You’d think you were jesting, but were you truly?

You’d have opened your mouth to say anything else, looking up at him, if it weren’t for the Northern lord himself roughly flipping you to your stomach.

“You wish to know, my princess?” he murmurs, unlatching his breeches. “You’d have your first time be with a Northman?”

You nodded, cheek resting on the carpet fabric without surrender. “Yes. Gods yes.”

He hiked your skirt around your waist, your plump ass visible to his peering eyes.

“You’ll be ruined for other men, aye.” He grunted, his hand wrapping around his rock hard cock.

“That’s good, because I desire no one save you.” you smiled, allowing him to lift your hips up and arch your back.

“Yeah?” he smirked, the tip of his cock rubbing against your damp hole. “You’ll have me make you my wife?”

You nodded, impatiently moving your hips. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

“You’d be a good wife, wouldn’t you?” he grunted once again, head finally pushing into your unloosened clit. “No Southern games, no poignant looks of yours.”

“You like that about me.” you painfully breathed, feeling the uncomfortable ache of his cock in your newly penetrated cunt.

His head descended, placing gentle kisses upon your shoulders. “A maiden. Perhaps you aren’t as well-equipped to handle a wolf as you said you were.”

“I am.” you protested, pushing your hips back. “Move your hips. I wish to prove myself.”

He only speeded up his thrusts, and as you allowed the moans to fill your lips, his hands found a way to push your head down.

“You’d carry my pups?” he asked, thrusting into you aggressively, pumping his cock in and out. “Wait on my cock every night?”

You only moaned incredulously, asscheeks clapping along with every snap of his hips.

“Yes.” you breathed, gasp and claps filling the room. “Fuck, put a babe inside of me. I want your children.”

“We’ll have to wed sooner, before the babe gets born in wedlock.” he grunted, hands gripping your hips, pushing you back onto his thick length. “But that’s what you wanted all along, was it?”

You gripped the fabric of the carpet, cheeks burning as it rubbed against the irritating carpet.

“For a thick cock such as this.” he teased, tugging at your hair.

“Yes.” you moaned pathetically, cheeks flushed as you felt a knot forming into your stomach.

Your lips parted, your eyes rolling above-ways.

“Yes, yes!” you moaned loudly, feeling his hands grope your breasts. “Fuck, you’re moving fast.”

“Never fast enough.” he murmurs, member sliding against your wet slit.

He could feel your tight walls clenching around him, milking his cock for all it is worth. His grip on you tightened as he thrust down to meet your upward motion.

And with one sharp thrusts, you felt the knot loosen and the cream dripping out your twitching clit.

Yet, he didn’t stop, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he rode you through your orgasm.

The feeling of your walls clenching around his cock was enough to send him reeling as well, burying himself deep inside of you.

Hot spurts of cum dripping out of your hole, you completely got yourself spent, closing your eyes and deciding you could just fall asleep on this carpet.

“No sleeping in the library.” he scolded lightly, putting on his fur coat, covering his naked physique. “Come here.”

You exhaustedly crawled over to him again, and snuck yourself into his coat, the clothing covering both of your naked bodies.

“I’m taking you to your chambers.” he sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “And for the next time, do not attempt to get so exhausted. I went easy on you this time.”

[delusionalmultilingual]

Bakugou cries in front of you, and you only.

In the first few months of your relationship he keeps up a hard and cold barrier, of course getting his usual hot-headed self when someone even slightly irritates him, but you calm him down eventually.

It's not like he has no emotions other than anger, he just had difficulty showing them, even if he really really wants to, he can't.

So when he's hurt one of his friends greatly, he slams the door of his bedroom, laying on his back, on his bed. He even locked the door for good measures, but you had a key anyway. It's not like he couldn't keep you out anyway.

It's when his eyes start to water and he can feel a lump stuck in his throat, it's when he messages you. He normally doesn't use punctuation in his texts, but it's when he's upset he does.

'Come here.'

That's all he messages, even if you haven't messaged him back, he knows you've seen it, or you've heard it from someone that he's slammed his door.

In his past he used to cry a lot too, but only at home and when his mum or dad was with him. His mum would comfort him the best she could, after all she did care about him. Even if he was a bit of a jerk to her sometimes.

She would wrap him in her arms and squeeze him tightly, pecking his forehead softly, running a hand through his hair. Her words would be a lot softer than her usual yelling behaviour.

When he burnt his hands from using his quirk too much she would scold him before comforting him, tending to his wounds before sending him off so she can get back to whatever she was doing before.

"Katsuki?" Your voice sounds out into his pitch black room, the hallway light shining underneath the small crack of the door. Knocking quietly, and trying the knob, it didn't move at all.

The doorknob clicks and you can only just see inside of his room, pushing the door open gently, Katsuki was already sitting back down on his bed, looking away from you. The door clicks closed when you push it back. Leaving the room in darkness again.

All you can hear is the small sniffling coming from him, your steps quickly shift to the foot of his bed. Crawling towards him and giving him a hug, bringing his head to your chest and whispering to him.

"What's the matter, what's got you so upset babe?" Your soft words make him settle into your skin instantly, a small patch on your shirt becoming wet with his tears.

His voice was still harsh as he spoke, but his tears and upset state made his speech croaky when he spoke. "I fucked up babe... M' a shit friend."

"Don't talk down to yourself."

Your words were still soft as you lifted his face and squeezed his cheeks, looking into his tear-stained gaze. He hides his face in your neck and lays down on his back. Bringing you with him and you huff a strained groan, rubbing his hair and breathing in his scent.

His body shudders against yours and your heart aches for him, he squeezes you tighter before letting you lay down next to him, wiping his tears and looking up at his ceiling. Still avoiding eye contact with you.

Sitting up and tying your hair back into a low bun. Your legs cross and you stare at him in silence for a good minute or two.

"I said something about Shitty Hair's past. When he told me. I‐" His voice cuts off as he breathes down the lump in his throat. "I told him it was stupid to think like that."

You stay silent, not wanting to say anything that might anger or upset him more, all you did was nod to his words.

His eyes well up again, before rubbing his eyes with his hands and sobbing again, his hands and arms covering his face so you couldn't see him like that. He hated it when you saw him cry anyway, knowing you didn't mind but the embarrassment in the near future got to him.

Sliding next to his head, you run a hand through his hair and stay quiet. He was quiet, which was unusual of him. But this was a different circumstance, on that you have seen before but never really shown.

You knew your words would comfort him but wouldn't help with the situation, so you sit there and let him cry it out.

Even if he would end up sorting it out he probably wouldn't apologise, or at least give a shit apology. He would go back to you and fall asleep in your arms, asking if he fucked up anymore, to which you would reply that time would tell.

God he hated when you did that.

This was completely based off an image I saw on pinterest, its not the best work I've done but I do have more planned in the future (・ε・｀ )

Now officially edited and proofread

Should I make this a story?

[meltingmidas]

Coachella Rut

Paring: Idol!Hongjoong x Non Idol!Reader

CW: DomJoong/SubReader, Joongie is aggressive :))), pinv, unprotected sex (don’t do this plz this is not sexy!), creampie, mentions of marks and bruises, degradation, pls lmk if i missed anything!

WC: 920

Midas's Notes: So I literally started this right after watching the Coachella stream.. holy shit. Joong really did something to me and idk if I’ll ever be the same. Is there possibly a Mingi one in the works? Maybe. Uhhh this is NOT edited cause I’m too tired and this is just raw horniness so please enjoy (and excuse) this messy fic! PS also didn’t have a fuckin clue what to name it so enjoy the random title <3

🔞 Below 🔞

“Fuck Joong, slow doowwwn- ugh please!” You whimpered as he roughly pounded into your abused pussy, your legs over his shoulders, his arms beside your head. He’s been at it for nearly 2 hours now, rejecting your every single orgasm, giving you no time to rest. Your neck is littered in bruises, cheeks red from his previous slaps, eyeliner dragged down to your jaw. He’s always like this after a concert; but for some reason Coachella has him in a rut.

He’s aggressive, raw, and borderline psychotic. A wild smile plastered on his face, the shitty red dye running down his face over his eyes and around his cheeks, down to his chin and neck. He locks eyes with you as he brings his hand up to roughly hold your jaw, your cheeks uncomfortably squishing together. “You are fucking mine, got it? Your heart, your soul, your thoughts, your pretty pussy, everything. You belong to me. Yeah?”He whispers out, inches away from your face, he’s movements never faulting. You nod, and mewl out a small “Yes sir” before he gives the corner of your lips a small kiss and returning to the side of your head, giving light nips to your neck. Hongjoong looks straight out of a horror movie; and it’s fucking sexy.

You’re dragged out of your thoughts by a particular hard thrust, kissing your velvety sweet spot inside you, making you sing his name like it was a prayer. “You look so fucking good underneath me. All fucked up on my cock, yeah? You can’t get enough of me, can you?” He grunts out, his voice course from the previous show he put on. You nod eagerly, your nails scratching at his shoulders, bound to leave your mark all over him. “Yeaah that’s right slut. Tell me how good I am.” You moan loudly at his request, surely others would hear (not that you cared), starting to attempt to form a sentence. “Cock feels to-fuck feels too good Joong. Need you to fuck me harder. Please!”.

He chuckles deeply, heavy into your ear, soft grunts and pants leaving his lips. “You feel so fucking good, you were made for me, whore.” You scream out his name as he starts fucking you faster; harder than he’s ever gone before. You whine and whimper, begging for your release, “Please Joong- pleasepleaseplease fill me up sir, I need it so bad. Need your cum inside me so bad.” Hongjoong moans loudly in your ear, his breath fanning against the shell. He lifts up to look at you, the fully sits up, your lower half now slightly lifted up off the bed thanks to your legs still over his shoulders. He gives you a wild smirk, eyes dark and full of love and lust. His hands find the plush spot of your hips, nails digging his shape into it. You whine, tears spilling out as you keep your babbling pleas for his seed. “Fuck- such a good girl, asking so politely for my cum.” One hand moves from your hips and finds your clit, your eyes shoot open and a drawn out moan leaves your lips, a new spark shoots up your spine and your release edging closer and closer.

He grunts, his thrust growing sloppier and harder, you can feel him twitch inside you as he gets closer. “Gonna make you mine sweetheart. All mine- fuck.” He peers down at you, a smile and his signature laugh, “Cum for me, doll.” That was all you needed as you find yourself twitching, hips bucking up into his, you feel your walls convulsing around his, feeling your sweet slick run down to your ass. He moans, voice scratching as a string of “shit” leaves him, as you feel hot ropes of cum fill you up. You whine, feeling so full of him and his milky cum. “So so good. Fuck you’re mine. Mine all mine..” he whispers out, more to himself, as he pushes his final spurts of cum inside you.

You look at him through your wet lashes, admiring the scene of his sweat drenching him, basking in his post sex glow. He catches your eyes, a soft smile leaving his lips as he leans down to meet yours. Hongjoong gives you a soft, gentle kiss, completely different to the ones you received earlier. “I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t do too much did I?” He asks, slowly pulling out of you, a mix of both your cum oozing outside of your puffy pussy. You shake your head, “No, not at all Joongie. But holy shit, I don’t think I can get up after all… that.” You laugh, and you hear him quietly joins you. “Here.” You look over to find him handing you a glass of water (that he already prepped beforehand, what a gentleman), and a towel in his hand beside you. You gladly take it, shaking as you hastily take a sip. You feel him gently lift one of your legs, softly patting and wiping you off. “I’ll start you a bath, and we can take one together. Or would you rather eat first? Which sounds good?” He quietly asks you, throwing the towel to a dirty clothes hamper and grabs your hand to give it a kiss. You giggle, “Bath, then food, please.” He nods, slowly rubbing your knuckles in his hands. “Sounds good sweetheart.” He gets up to start your bath, you sit up, sipping your water and wondering if you should get chicken or a burger.

[dearest-nell]

morning person

s. harrington x reader, 2.8k

summary: a snapshot into the morning routine of steve harrington, now that the two of you have moved in together includes: established steve x reader, domestic fluff, steve is a busybody. warnings: literally none except i am still incapable of proofreading properly

a/n: honestly if anyone has any requests i would love to hear them, or just want to chat about this show that has ruined my life, because i'm spiralling into obsession over here.

People who complain about mornings have obviously never spent one waking up beside Steve Harrington, this you’re sure of. Because if they had, then they would know there was nothing in the world so deliciously saccharine than that drowsy, softened look on his face as he blinks the sleep away from mingling eyelashes, his lips curving upwards into a dreamy sort of smile. This isn’t even the first time he has awoken this morning. 

Steve Harrington is a morning person – an early riser, a dawn greeter, a restless child on christmas day. His body clock is set as the sun begins to kiss the horizon, his eyes blinking open into a dark, cool bedroom. New. This bedroom is new. He is still getting used to it, this apartment, a dingy one bedroom located just a few blocks from the rougher side of town. It’s a far cry from the mansion he used to live in, small and outdated and a little worse for wear, if he were to say so himself, but it’s home. It’s home because it’s his, and it’s home because it’s yours. You rent it together, bills strung haphazardly from paychecks of jobs you’d both rather live without. Steve doesn’t mind that he still works at the video store, not when it lights up the lamp on his bedside, or cooks the pasta on your shitty gas top that flickers every so often. He needs to call the service guy, now that he thinks about it, but it’s too early to matter. 

He can feel the heat of your body pressed in beside him, curled in on yourself, face buried into the pillow now folding creases into your skin, shoulders rising and falling in a steady rhythm. You have never been a morning person, he learned rather early on. You’re delirious, and grumpy, and still so beautiful despite the glare in your eyes when he used to wake you, and now, he knows to let you sleep. His impatience to rouse you, to kiss you and touch you is an urge he’s learned to swallow, so he pauses for a moment simply to stare, to smile to himself at the way you mumble in your dreams. 

He has the time, he thinks, considering it’s still dark out, and his shift at the store is not due for half a morning away, so he lets himself linger, tucked into the warmth of bedsheets as he works up the courage to leave it. He knows he needs to, that he’ll feel better if he does, that the routine always pays off even if it means parting from you. The air will be chilly outside, but he needs the cold to clear his head. His morning run is his time, after all. It gives him the solitude to consider, to plan, to unwind. 

He slips from the bed, careful footsteps walking a still unfamiliar path through the bedroom, boxes stacked against a near wall still unpacked from the move. His sneakers are in the wardrobe, well placed for a quick pick up, though he hasn’t accounted for his discarded shirt rippled right in his path. He trips, stumbling slightly, cursing himself as the thud that resounds as heavy feet meet the floorboards. He turns with a cringe, hearing you stir, though you do not rise as you wriggle deeper into yellow linens, disappearing beneath the comforter. 

He’s quick to dress, not wanting to risk another incident and the wrath of your disturbed sleep, slipping out into the living room to tie his shoes, still half asleep and blinking blearily. Despite its flaws, he likes this apartment more than he thought possible. There’s a passthrough between the kitchen and the living room that lets him talk to you as he cooks, you hanging over the bench to smile at him, pressing kisses into his shoulder when he dares to come too close. There’s a strange nook that sits in the wall by the door, one that now holds your keys and bumble bee umbrella, though neither of you are too sure why it was built in the first place. There’s a flat expanse outside the bathroom window that you want to build a flower box into, though Steve is yet to determine how, since neither of you are particularly good at D.I.Y. He loves this second hand couch Eddie found on the curb, loves the strange, abstract art piece Will designed for you both as a housewarming, loves the ceramic clown that Robin stole from an overpriced giftshop to hide in one of your moving boxes, now settled in the bookshelf beside an array of half read novels between you. 

He’s building a life here with you, and Steve is trying his best to remind himself of it every chance he get. There will be Christmases spent in these walls, games night drinks spilled on this carpet, and so many I love you kisses pressed to smiling cheeks beside that front door – he hardly knows how to contain the excitement for it all, even as he ties his laces. 

The morning is colder than he expected, but Steve has never been one to check the weather even now, even after he caught a cold from a raining run one morning, taking himself straight to work rather than home to you to shower. He figure’s he’ll wing it, deal with the consequences as they come, and enjoy the way you dote on him as he whines and groans in his flu like delirium days later. Cold, but not raining, he knows he’ll be fine this time. 

He’s been planning out this new jogging route as he goes, still learning the maps and turns of each new lane. He’d never been to this part of town much before the move, but he’s starting to acclimate one run at a time. It’s not too far from Hawkins, after all. It still feels like a familiar place, but it’s closer to the community college to save you the travel time. Steve’s a visual learner, after all. It gives him the roadmap that he’ll need to plan out his week. He’s taking himself the long way just to jot down the layout; the farmers market, the hardware store, the cafe with the good coffee. He waves to the people he passes by, few and far between, trying to appear friendly. He doesn’t know yet the culture of this community, but he’s eager to make a good impression. He recognises the old man who runs the news agency, stops to chat as they talk about the community centre. Steve’s agreed to volunteer for the refurbishment, he’s hoping it’ll help you both settle in, and you’ve promised to bake up your best batch of pastries to feed the hungry husbands as they work. Steve’s not yet a husband, but he’s planning on changing that in due time. 

The sun mingling with the clouds by the time he departs again, his pace quickening through midtown suburbia to take him home. The paperboy is tossing rolls at the doors, barely breaking on his bike as he passes house after house. Steve moves onto the road to avoid any collisions, shaking his head as the teen wheels off past a corner. He hasn’t even thought about his week yet, he realises, and his pace drops in consideration. There’s a stocktake coming up at work that will take more energy than he has to give, his parents are due over for dinner later in the week (he’s hoping they’ll cancel), and Robin has booked him tickets to some kind of gig that he’s certain he’ll hate. He mentally notes the checklist – things to buy, things to do, things to clean – now able to see his lot clearly without the buzz of a busy world around him. His days run smoother this way, alone, soles beating against the pavement. It starts him on the right foot. 

He’s out of breath when he arrives back on your block, panting heavily without the grace of a water bottle. He knows he should have brought one, but there’s no point stewing on it now. His thighs ache as he climbs the staircase, three flights of stairs his least favourite part of coming home. He can’t imagine hauling groceries up this stairwell is going to be an enjoyable weekly endeavour, but for the price of rent, he’s willing to make the effort, even with a slightly busted knee. 

He’s a little louder than he wants to be as he eases open the lock, slipping into a slightly brighter apartment than when he left. He doesn’t think you’re awake, but he takes pause to slow himself down, turning into the kitchen instead of the bedroom. Steve clicks on the faucet, hanging his head below the tap to let the cool water run directly into his mouth. He lacks grace as he guzzles down half a litre, droplets trickling down his cheeks and chin into unclean dishes from the night before. There’s urgency, he decides, in this drink. No type for a cup, no time to pause. He pulls away gasping, wiping a cupful of water across his sweat slicken face, unable to suck enough breath into his lungs. He leans back against the benchtop, eyes pressed skyward to focus on slowing himself down, letting his heart rate drop back to a blissful pace. 

He knows he should shower, but more than anything, he’s aching to get back between the sheets with you. It’s funny how he still misses you when you’re not within reach, even for an hour, even when he knows you’re still wrapped up tight in the comforts of his bed. It feels wrong to love a person this much, like he shouldn’t be made to feel so much, so deeply, every passing minute of every passing day. But he does. He knows he’s not the first to feel such a love, but he thinks he might be the only one regardless, because no one else has you. He thinks it’s strange that everyone in the world isn’t aching to be by your side, that hearts all over the town aren’t skipping beats at the wideness of your smile, the curve of your shoulder, the tickle of your laugh. This love must be special, then, because how else can he be the only one so enamoured by you. 

He forces himself into the shower, the water not yet warm even as he sinks his head beneath the stuttering stream. The pipes are old, though a cold shower bothers him far less than it bothers you. He’ll be out quicker this way. He is less thorough in his cleaning than he thinks he ought to be, scrubbing furiously at his body with the loofah you bought him, scraping sweat and red streaks into a now fading tan. He’s seeing the sun less these days in the dead of autumn, but he’ll make it up later. Right now, all he is focused on is climbing back into his bed, his skin stained with a citrus scent embedded into the new soap you had bought. It’s not his usual brand, but he thinks he likes the change anyways. It reminds him of summer picnics with you, fingers digging into orange peels, juices dribbling down his fingers until he tears out slices one by one. The scent lingers, filled with your orange flavoured kisses and sun streaked highlights burning into his mind, and yes, he thinks, the change isn’t so bad. 

He shuts off the tap, yanking his towel from the rack to pat himself dry, hair shaking out like a puppy dog with rambunctious excitement to be on his way. He doesn’t bother to redress, dropping the towel to the floor without focus, padding back towards your bedroom. You’re exactly how he left you, though a little more illuminated in the morning light. You’ve wiggled out of the blanket again, one foot kicked out to the side to regulate your body temperature, one hand reaching out towards his side of the bed. You reach for him in your sleep sometimes, and he hates the idea of not being there for you when you do. 

He clambers into bed his eagerness betraying his stealth, expert hands lifting your arm up for him to slide under, hanging it securely over his waist as he settles into the warm dip of the mattress. Your body responds instinctively, rolling into him with a groan, still not quite awake, though he can tell you’re not so far off. He runs fingers through your hair, trying to stave off your inevitable waking for as long as he can manage. Your alarm isn’t due for another hour, and he wants every second before that  spent just like this.

He doesn’t mean to fall back asleep, but sleep takes him anyways, his eyes blinking shut under the hypnotic pattern of your breathing beside him. He’ll wake up again groggier now, but there is nothing to be done to change it. He tugs you in closer, rougher in his sleep, his neediness permeating his unconscious mind until you’re pressed square against him. The movement spurs you awake, slowly and unintentionally, though it takes you a moment to understand why. 

There he is, your man, your darling boy, mouth hanging open with quiet, rumbling snores, arms wrapped around you in a protective lock. He’s never looked more beautiful, even with your eyes out of focus, one closed and pressed into the fabric of your pillowcase. You can smell the soap, feel the softness of his now cleansed skin beneath your curious fingertips, and you know he’s already been out of bed. He tries his best not to fall back asleep, but your smile curves wider to be blessed to see it. There’s a jealousy in you, after all, that he gets to watch you sleep so often. Times like these are rare, when you awaken first, and you’re greedy in your enjoyment of them. You’d take a picture if you thought you could reach the camera, but the moment would spoil, you were sure. You commit it to memory instead, every dip and curve and freckle and hair burned into your head until it’s all you can see. You want his face to be a fading image that blinks to life behind every close of your eyes, an after image repeating itself well into the day when you’re far away from him. 

He is so lovely, and you are so in love. 

The alarm breaks the two of you out of your reverie, your body jolting at the surprise of it. Steve is slower to start this time, groaning a drunken sort of sound as you slam your hand down on the rattling clock. His arm tightens around you, dragging you until your body is half wedged under his own, your giggles drowning out into muffled chuckles as your face burrows into the crook of his neck. 

“I fell back asleep.” He mutters, closing his eyes with a sigh. 

“I know.” You coo back, adjusting the curve of your back to a more comfortable position, tangling legs between his own until you’re thoroughly wrapped. 

“You sound awake.” He mumbles back, squeezing at your waist with unmasked affection. “Were you up?” 

“Yeah.” It’s an airy sort of confession, made to match the tender strokes of fingers reaching to scrape lovingly at his scalp. “Just watchin’ you sleep.” 

“Perv.” He teases, kissing at your hair, mouth hungry and missing your skin entirely. He lights up as you giggle, his head lifting with heavy blinks to gaze down at you, hair pressed upwards into a lopsided mess. You do your best to pat it down for him. “You like what you see?” 

You crook your head to the side, focusing your gaze in a tender expression. “Something like that.” His brow arches curiously, leaving you to laugh again. “I love you, you moron.” 

His smile widens, head dropping to nuzzle his nose roughly into your cheek, lips catching on your jaw every so often with exaggerated noises of enthusiasm. “Love you too, baby.” 

There is silence for a minute, nothing but his lips dragging affection across the planes of your cheek, his hands wandering underneath the fold of your bedshirt to press fingertips into fading stretch marks across your hips. You’re worried he’ll fall asleep again, and you know you don’t have the heart today to wake him a second time. 

“You want breakfast? I can make jam on toast?” 

He hums a happy sound, though does nothing to release his grip on you. “Yeah, okay. Gonna have to escape me, though. Can’t make my arm move.” 

He pretends to try and shuffle his grip, putting on a little show with a pout when his hold does not dislodge. You roll your eyes, brushing the pad of your thumb against his brow bone. 

“Five more minutes, then.” 

Steve was back asleep within three.

[scap34]

sub! sugar baby!toji x sadistic! rich! dom! younger! Male!reader

Taking your anger out by doing something productive <3

Warning: cussing, edging, rough sex, humiliation

You looked pissed. Angrier than he’d ever seen before. That business meeting must have been shitty. Toji shifted to hide the bulge in his pants, knowing you saw it. 

Your eyes focused on him with an intensity he hadn’t seen before. He shivered involuntarily and leaned back against the sofa. The sofa you’d bought him. 

God, he was hard. He knew you were a sadistic asshole, but you always had this calm demeanor over you. Your mean words were accompanied by small controlled smirks. Your control over yourself and him, left him wrecked and humiliated.

No matter how much he begged, cried or came, you wouldn’t let him go until you were sure he was done. But right now? You looked like you wanted to devour him.

He licked his lips and spread his legs, showing off the bulge in his sweatpants. Your eyes greedily traced the lines of his line. The way his shirt obscenely stretched across his chest, his small waist, and spread thighs.  

He would gladly let you.

…

He dazedly leaned against the armrest, hips involuntarily rocking, as you thrusted in him. His mind was exhausted but his cock was still hard, throbbing despite the nurumous times he came. 

A well aimed thrust, pushed a moan out his parted lip, drool slipped down his chin. 

Your hands held his hips in a brutal grip. One leg rested on your shoulder, as you roughly thrusted in his red loose hole. 

It had been hours. Hours since you shoved toys in him and made him cum, over and over. You were finally fucking him, but he couldn’t even enjoy it, too blissed out and sensitive. Each thrust sent electric current up his spine. His hoarse throat aching as soft pants, whines and moans left his mouth. 

One well placed thrust, had his body withering as he tried to escape your grasp. You pulled him back easily, continuing your brutal thrusts. 

It was pleasurable torture. 

Finally, you pressed inside him and came. His own cock pathetically spurting out cum across his chest. 

He looked up at you dazed, black strands stuck to his sweat covered forehead. Tears stains ran down his cheek, drool dripped down red bitten lips. Hickey covered skin flushed pink, cum covered his torso, and his hole dripped with your cum. 

You chuckled, dark eyes taking in the disheveled mess that you made. You reached for your suit jacket, draped it on the chair next to you and took your phone out. You held it up and took a picture of your precious blissed out sugar baby.

Toji couldn’t bring himself to care. His mind was running on nothing, and subconsciously he knew that you’d never leak the picture. He was yours and you were very possessive of the things you owned. 

He let out a small whine, giving you puppy eyes. Not that it required any effort. Laying there looking debauched, he looked effortlessly pitiful. 

As expected the sight hit your spot. You immediately moved forward, cooing soft praises as you used a tissue to wipe him up. 

Your soft touch and affectionate gaze made his body warm. Like sweet honey, or melting butter your gaze and touch settled into his skin. Your voice mumbling soft praises that he started to believe. He pleased you. He did good. He was perfect.

He settled against the pillow you tucked under his head. His eyes fluttered closed, as you pressed a kiss to his lips. 

“Sleep, baby. You did perfectly.” You cooed as you covered his naked body with a blanket. He didn’t mind. His clothes were probably dirty anyway. He let out a sigh, exhaustion pulling him into unconsciousness.

[biteofcherry]

Drip

stucky x female reader

Bucky Barnes x female reader x Steve Rogers; Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

summary: Bucky and Steve graciously make your fantasy of watching them together come true. But it comes for a price. One you may have not be prepared for.

warnings: smut; consensual; D/s undertones; power imbalance; hints of voyeurism; blowjob; handjob; orgasm denial; a small dose of degradation

Masterlist

You could never keep a poker face and you were rather shitty at being stealthy, so it wasn't a surprise that the two supersoldiers noticed the glances you stole their way on occasions.

They probably recognized more than glances, since you couldn't help but feel hot all over and clenched whenever you saw the two of them kiss. Or show any brief touch of intimacy.

Their relationship wasn't a secret, but Steve and Bucky weren't big on public displays of affection.

Around the compound they acted professional and sweet, presenting a healthy dose of love for each other. Perfect, charming gentlemen.

It only spurred your imagination further, as you spent nights in your bed with your hand between your thighs, thinking of how passionate they were with each other when no one was looking.

When they cornered you in an empty corridor, after you did a quick inventory of the quinjet post-mission, you had no quick wit to bullshit your way out of the trouble.

However, the expected lecture on being inappropriate (and perhaps relocated to a different post for making them feel uncomfortable and objectified) didn't happen.

Instead, you were invited to join them in the shower.

You really should've said no. Show them that your fantasies had their limit and you weren't a perv eager to become a true voyeur.

But there was something in the way they spoke to you that was coercive.

Steve’s tone wasn’t exactly an order, but it was shaped like an invitation you couldn’t refuse, or else there would be consequences (even if no threat was laid). 

Bucky somehow steered your body, so that you were already walking along with them while they revealed they’ve caught you staring at them on multiple occasions. They weren't a flirtatious types, but they were acutely aware when someone desired them. Especially when that someone was really bad at hiding that craving.

Embarrassment swallowed you whole, making you squirm as you padded between the two men. Then a rush of adrenaline and excitement won, clouding your better judgment as they asked for your final decision. 

If it was to be your last day of work for the Avengers, you would at least be an unemployed pervert who got to see Captain America and Winter Soldier naked and touching.

A currency no salary could match.

Though your bravado dispersed as you stepped into the showers few minutes later.

You felt uncertain as you took small steps across the wood-imitating tiles. The spa-like design of the compound’s bathrooms not working its calming magic at the moment. 

As you approached the two men, who were already naked and standing under the sprays, your own nudity and body consciousness made you curl in on yourself. 

"Are you sure it's okay?" You asked, stopping a few steps away.

You weaved one of your arms across your breasts, the other nervously around your middle as you squeezed your thighs. 

For a fleeting moment you hoped they’d change their mind and you get to run away to hide in shame. It would be mortifying, but less than actually exposing yourself and your reactions to them. 

Funny how it was supposed about you watching them, but turned into you being put into a more vulnerable position.

Somehow it skipped your horny mind that you would be naked and alone with two handsome, very powerful and overwhelming men.

Their heated, dark gazes locked on you made your heart rate accelerate, enhancing the sense of being the main entertainment of this whole arrangement. 

Suddenly, the charming, protective Captain and sweet, quiet Soldier were gone and instead you were facing the stifling flame of hunger of potential predators. It was more potent than what your needy imagination provided. Perhaps more than you were really able to handle.

Steve’s gaze slid over you from head to toe, so slow and intense it felt as if he touched you with his fingers. 

Your nipples instantly pebbled.

"If we weren't fine with you dripping down your thighs as you watch us, we wouldn't ask you to join us in the shower." 

Fuck. 

If he kept talking like that, in that lower, deeper tone, you really would be dripping down your thighs for them in no time. 

It was Bucky who moved toward you, taking slow, but sure steps. Gently, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist and pulled your arm away from your chest. When your breasts were displayed fully, you heard a synchronized purr of approval.

He guided you to stand between two sprays then pushed you back slightly, until your back hit the tiled wall. 

Some drops of water bounced your way, but mostly it was the warm mist settling on your skin in the little safe nook Bucky put you in.

A front row to watch the two of them just mere inches away from you.

Water cascaded down their naked bodies. Your eyes couldn’t catch up with all the trickles, though you so desperately wanted to study them all. Lavish with your tongue each contour of muscle and crevice. Trace the veins that protruded down their arms and just above hip and curving down onto…

"You like what you see, starburst?" Bucky hummed, forcing your gaze to snap up to his.

The nickname was something new. They always addressed you by your name. But you had no trouble realizing what inspired this one - they had to notice the small tattoo on your hip.

Swirls of gray in Bucky’s blue irises seemed warmer than ever before. His mouth was curved in an amused smile, making your heart flutter silly as if you were a teenage girl offered a flash of interest from the boy you had a crush on. 

Bucky lathered his hands with soap and he moved them across Steve’s chest, up to his neck then down his arms; stroking those sculpted muscles. 

You followed that movement nearly whimpering in despair that it wasn’t you who got to touch.

"He's magnificent, isn't he?" Bucky’s hands traveled all over Steve’s body, while his gaze remained locked on you. 

"Would you like to worship his perfect body?" He asked.

At your eager nod something glinted in his eyes. Bucky’s voice resounded with a dark command, even as his face remained softly serene:

"Then drop to your knees, doll. Worshipers are on their knees before their gods."

Before you fully comprehended the undertone of degradation in the latter sentence, your knees were already hitting the tiles. 

As Bucky’s fingers ran down Steve’s stomach then wrapped around the base of his dick, your fingernails dug into the skin of your thighs as tingles of arousal pulled at your nipples and your clit.

"And that cock? Are you aching for that gorgeous, thick cock?" Bucky rasped, stroking Steve steadily.

Steve’s own hand was gripping the back of Bucky’s head, fingers tangled in wet, dark locks. Though his lips were parted on small, pleasant grunts, which he didn’t bother to hide, Steve’s eyes remained focused on you. Drinking in all the reactions showing on your beautiful face.

"Bet you'd love to run your tongue along that vein." Bucky moaned himself as he squeezed Steve tighter.

Your tongue seemed to dart out to lick your lips out of its own volition. Your hands moved, too. One up to cup your breast, the other diving between your thighs. 

"Are you thinking about it, starburst?” Steve asked, nudging Bucky’s hand away and taking a step towards you. Water washed out all the remaining suds off his body, giving you an unobscured view of the glory that was his cock. 

“Imagining how you'd cry as it stretched your little pussy?" 

Your little pussy clenched in fear and arousal at the thought of being filled with it. Even your bolder toys couldn’t compare in size. 

"And what about Bucky's cock, hm?” Steve’s hand splayed on Bucky’s hip when his partner came closer. 

With his other hand he cupped Bucky’s balls, drawing a loud grunt of pleasure from him. Then he ran his fingertips along the underside of Bucky’s cock, before fisting it. 

“Big and long.” Steve gave a few leisurely strokes. “Do you know how deep in your tight ass he could go?"

You weren’t thinking of it - of anyone in your ass - up until now. 

“Oh Stevie,” Bucky chuckled against Steve’s shoulder, where he was peppering kisses and licks, “I think our little starburst has been thinking about my cock up your ass all this time and missed the opportunity to imagine how it could fill her dirty hole.” 

Fingers still wrapped around Bucky’s girth, Steve angled his head to the side. His nose brushed against Bucky’s almost affectionately and then their lips were meeting in a sensual kiss. 

Forced to decide between watching their kiss and Bucky’s dick twitching in Steve’s hand, you let out a pathetic whimper. Your own fingers rubbed tight circles on your aching clit. Tongue itched to lick up the red tip of Bucky’s cock.

“I don’t blame her,” Steve rasped when they parted, “I love having you in my ass, too. Almost as much as I love taking yours.” 

Bucky’s soft laughter didn’t diminish the hotness of the scene. Quite the contrary, the intimacy of it that you were graciously allowed into was making you even more needy. 

Maybe the sinful beauty of their bodies was only a veneer of what you were truly craving. Maybe it's their deep connection and devotion that you got off on, dreaming of experiencing it yourself. Of being loved so strongly.

“Bet she’s thinking about it now.” Their gazes returned to you. “Look at those small fingers trying to satisfy her.”

“Cute,” Steve snorted, but then his eyes narrowed. “Who told you that you could touch yourself, starburst?”

“I-” you stuttered, feeling a wave of shame burn your cheeks from the inside. 

“Hands off.” He commanded and somehow you complied immediately. “You need them free to take care of us, little worshiper.” 

Your eyes widened as you stared up at them. When this whole event began, you were convinced it would just be a twisted little fantasy combined - you watching them, them enjoying being watched.

A hush little encounter with minimum interaction. 

Not only they broke down all the private space limits, but pushed it into entanglement you rarely even dared to fantasize about. 

They moved even closer; their cocks inches from your face as they looked down at you like the gods you made them to be. 

"Be of service, starburst." Bucky ran a single digit along your cheek.  

"Come on. We know you get off on not only imagining the two of us together, but also being with us. This is your chance to earn it."

You gulped as his finger touched your bottom lip then slipped into your mouth. For a short second, but it was enough of an indication how far they wanted to push it. 

“Show us how much you want it.” Steve rocked his hips forward, teasing the tip of his dick along your cheek. “How thankful you are to be here.” 

Hesitation in your movement wasn’t due to discomfort of touching them, but because you didn’t have much experience in the matter. Sure, you gave some quick handjobs and sucked dick before, but it all seemed awkward and poor quality to what Steve and Bucky deserved. 

Perhaps they sensed your nervousness, or maybe they really liked your touch, but the moment you wrapped your small hands around their cocks the praise fell from their lips almost instantly.

“Doing good, starburst.” Bucky stroked your head. “Just follow what you always imagined.”

At first you tried to keep the same rhythm on both shafts, but you weren’t that well coordinated. It didn’t matter though, as you quickly noticed each of them liked things a little different anyway.

Bucky moaned at the measured stroke with more squeeze around the leaking tip, while Steve encouraged you to twist your wrist.

As their sounds of pleasure grew muffled, you flicked up your gaze. The sight of them kissing and touching each other elicited another jolt of arousal; your own lips parting on a quiet moan. 

The puff of your breath tickled the angry red head of Steve’s dick, which twitched in your hand in response. It was all the temptation you needed to open your mouth and taste him. 

Your scientific knowledge wasn’t impressive, but you wondered if it was possible that the serum enhanced that part, because you swore the flavor of Steve on your tongue made you wetter. 

Hollowing your cheeks, you sucked harder. You couldn’t get him much deeper, your gag reflex was too strong to try pushing it at the moment, but you were adamant on making it as satisfying for them as you could. 

After a few beats you switched, swallowing Bucky's cock while you quickened the pace of your strokes on Steve’s dick. Every few moments you glanced up at them, feeding your own pleasure with the sight of them touching each other. 

"Such a good pet." Steve’s praise spurred you on.

Bucky groaned out your real name when you squeezed his balls while suckling on his tip. One of his hands landed on the back of your head, pushing you further down his length. He relented when you choked, but you suspected if encounters like that were to happen in the future, he would at some point deep throat you. 

“Do you want your reward, starburst?” Bucky pulled out, wrapping his own hand around his cock. 

Steve guided your fingers to massage his balls as he too fisted his cock. 

You didn’t expect arousal could spike even higher when you were already so drunk on it. But the idea of them cumming in front of you, for you, was like an electric current that sizzled your brain into mush.

“Yes, please,” you nodded eagerly, licking your lips.

“You can close your eyes, but keep your mouth open and your tongue out.” Steve instructed, his voice strained as he tried to withhold his climax a few more seconds. 

“Fuck,” you heard Bucky curse as you closed your eyes and tilted your face up, obediently opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out. “So fucking beautiful, little worshiper.” 

Slick sound of quick strokes combined with the rainy hum of cascading water and the unrestricted moans of two men. Even your own heartbeat seemed to quiet so that you could enjoy the sexy sounds. 

Then warm splashes hit your face. Landed on your tongue, but also across your cheeks and forehead, some dribbled down your chin. 

You waited with your open mouth until they were fully spent, which took more time than expected, before swallowing everything that landed on your tongue. 

“Good girl, starburst.” They swiped ribbons of cum off your face with their fingers, pushing them into your mouth for you to swallow all of it. 

Then one of them easily lifted you up onto your feet and pulled you under a warm spray of water. Though your legs were shaking a bit, two bodies sandwiching you between them provided support.

“Let's get you cleaned." Bucky’s voice was a soft coo in your ear as he massaged shampoo onto your scalp.

Steve lathered your body with soap, stroking everywhere and yet not where you needed it the most. Though satisfied with making them cum, your body was still thrumming with need. One you were impatient to take care of.

"Please!” You arched against Bucky, pushing your chest towards Steve’s wandering hands. You parted your legs wider. “Please, please, I-"

"No." Bucky’s tone remained calm, but his words were firm. "You don't get to cum. Not yet."

“Little worshipers think of their gods’ needs and wishes first.” Despite the degrading and condescending meaning of his words, Bucky made them sound like a soft, caring compliment. 

“And accept their fate, even if it’s to wait for their orgasm for eternity.” 

"You've been such a good girl so far, starburst.” Steve squeezed your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing your gaze to meet his through the falling drops. “I know you can still be obedient and wait for the special reward. Right?"

“Y-yes, Steve.” Your heart pounded at the prospect of getting more from them.

Even if at the moment it was more torment than pleasure.

" ’Atta girl." He smiled. "Now let’s rinse you. Then you can go dry up and dress nicely. We’ll take you out for dinner.” 

[1800jjbarnes]

◇ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟑 : 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 - 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 ◇

Godess Amongst Commoner

【Synopsis】 : Overhearing for so-called friends make fun of your "failures" in life made your loving mobboss boyfriend very unhappy. No one makes his Doll cry.

『W.C』 : 1.67k

-> Genre: Mafia Au. Suggestive. Sweet Love.

Paring: MobBoss!Bucky x Chubby!Reader

[Warnings] : Shitty Friends. Mention about putting on weight (which is normal). Mention of a standard. Dark thoughts. Reader hates herself. (I love you all so much.) James wants to lowkey kill your friends. Pet names. Swearing. Crying. Kisses. Hickeys. Little bit of man handling. Fingering.

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It was supposed to be a calm day hanging out with your friends but it got turned on its head when you got the the place you were going to meet them and you overheard them talking about your ‘failure’ in life. God, it hurt hearing them explain it like that. It wasn’t like it was your fault that your life came to a crashing stop. It’s not like you asked to get a back injury and gain some weight over the healing time.

It crushed you, trying so hard to lose the weight was no easy task. It was like it stuck to you. You became so insecure about it, and you thought your so-called friends were supportive and loved you no matter what, but it turns out they now looked at you like an outsider. All because you were a few sizes bigger than them.

You felt the restaurant, not even taking the corner to where they were sat. Knowing that if you saw you, they would stop you. They would have most likely say ‘oh why are you leaving babe, don’t go’ but in reality, you now know, it was just pity. That’s how they looked at you. Like a puppy, they had no choice but to look after.

-

You spent the next hour walking home instead of calling for a ride, punishing yourself in a way. When you saw the gate to your front lawn, you sighed, feeling relief. It wasn’t that the walking was hard or anything. But you wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball on your soft bed. What you didn’t expect was for a motorbike parked discreetly in your driveway. ‘wonder who that could be’ you thought sarcastically.

Opening the door to your house, you notice the front door was unlocked, along with a pair of nice dress shoes sitting on the shoe rack. You took your own shoes off, hissing at the pain of walking for so long on small platforms. “James?”

You called, voice echoing in the silent home. He didn’t normally show up unannounced let alone on his bike, given he worried so much about your safety. But when you entered the lounge room and spotted him lying on your soft sofa with one of your plushies tight in his grasp that you keep nearby so you could cuddle it while sitting on the couch alone. You had to smile at him. For a roughed-up mob boss, he sure looks like such an innocent baby right now.

“You better be laughing at yourself, doll.” His deep grumble caught your laughter in your throat. He didn’t even open his eyes, just twitching slightly. He knew it was you the moment he heard the pitter-patter of your socked feet padding around the small home. He was, after all, in a line of work where he needed to be vigilant. “Why are you home anyway?”

You were hoping he wasn’t going to ask you that question ‘cause he knew you were going out with your friends―that he frankly didn’t like―today. Sighing, you took a set on the lone loveseat against the other wall. You knew you would have to tell him cause if you didn’t he would just come up with his own answer. “I left ‘cause I overheard….uh….” Fuck you didn’t even want to talk about what went down in fear that if you saw it aloud it would be real.

He noticed your shift in demeanour instantly, sitting up he shuffled along the couch until he was leaning against the arm. The plushie still nestled in his lap as his harsh grip squeezed its poor head. “What did they say?”

“Nothing important… it was um…” You began to panic, maybe lying would have been the better option now. Bucky goes up from the couch, moving to sit next to you, pulling your legs up to rest them over his lap. You felt a sudden feeling of disgust as he lifted your figure. How could someone like Bucky be in love with someone like you? He was toned, rugged. A handsome bachelor that could have women falling at his feet. But yet here he was. Staring at you with devotion and full of love. You were the only one in his heart… why?

“I swear if you don’t tell me right now.” He sounded threatening, but in truth, you know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you or others, without knowing you were completely okay with it. You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling a tear fall down your hot cheek. You didn’t even know when you started crying, but it was like it was out of your control. You were useless, worthless, a failure, and everyone’s eyes. So why not he as well? Why didn’t he not leave for someone else when he clearly deserved better?

He rushed to you without a second thought, holding you close as he hushed you softly. His hand raked through your hair, soothing you while his other hand found your thigh making shapes in your plump flesh. You were so perfect to him, and seeing you cry broke his heart, and when you finally were able to tell him exactly what your so-called friends had said, he lost it. Sitting up, he cupped your face slowly, wiping your tears away as he spoke tenderly. “Honey, you are perfect no matter what anyone says. Including me. Your own opinion about yourself is all that truly matters. You are such a powerful woman, and I wouldn’t be here today if it was not for you.”

You hiccuped, sobbing quietly as he rambled about how much he was devoted to you. His lips found the corner of your wobbling mouth. His hand that once cupped your face now dared to hold the back of your neck while the other perched itself on your hips. He knelt between your legs, locking his lips while mumbling ‘I love you’ over and over through shaken kisses. He needed you to understand how beautiful you are in his eyes. His queen. Without another word, he pressed you gently on the couch, man-handling you until your boy was lying flat on the soft cushioning.

His lips danced down your jaw and neck. “My pretty angel. Perfect like honey. My everything.” His hands played with the buttons of your jeans, popping them open before drawing a hand down your panties. You tried to stop him, feeling you were too ugly for him to touch you. But he protested, smacking your thigh with his free hand. “I’m going to touch you. Pleasure you like the queen you are, and you are going to lay here and scream my name like a good girl.”

You whimpered, still crying, but you nodded, whispering a quick “Yes..Sorry.” but he stopped your whines with his fingers gripping your chin so you’d gaze right into his intense stare.

“Don’t you ever apologize for something you never did. You aren’t the reason for these tears.” He wiped one away with his thumb. “The only time you cry is when I’m pleasuring you so good. You got that, Honey?”

“Yes, Sir…”

“Repeat.” He growled slipping his fingers inside your soaked cunt.

“YES Sir…Fuck…” You moaned, bucking your hips up, spreading your legs without thinking. He hummed in approval, fucking you slowly with his fingers. His lips attached onto your neck, sucking a few harsh marks making sure to put them in places where he’d know people would look. Where your ‘friends’ would see. You see, your lover was an honest man. A fair man. And he had already made plans in his mind of what exactly to do with these so-called friends of yours and once he was down worshipping you as you deserved he was going to have fun…talking… with those disgusting women.

He pulled up your top, tugging down your bra so your breasts would pop out. He wasted no time in littering your gorgeous tits with kisses, licks, and bites. “Mine. You got that darling. You’re all mine. My good girl.” His fingers got faster placing his thumb on your clit making you scream out his name over and over. His chuckle vibrated on your nipples making you shiver in pleasure. His praises booted an ego you thought was on the ground and his lips helped wash away any negativity you mind portrayed towards your lover. “you gonna cum baby? Make a mess on my fingers?”

“Yes, Bucky. Pleaasee.” Your hands flew to his hair, tugging sharply making him groan from the painful pleasure. He rubbed sharp circles on your clit helping you tip over the edge squirting all over his hands your jeans.

“Such a good girl.” You tried to sit up to inspect the damage but Bucky placed a firm hand on your shoulder, effectively pushing you back down onto the couch. “I’m going to strip you naked okay and then you are going to go have a bath while I take a call. And then I’ll join you. How does that sound?”

You know all too well that bath means he wants to fuck you in the tub. One of his favourite places to fuck you since he was surrounded by your scent and sweet candles. But the phone call scared you. Bucky is a dangerous man and a cruel and mean one. One work is going well and he wants updates or… he wants someone dead. And from what you told him prior you know he’s planning the second option. Cause in the end, Buckg was willing to kill for you. Protecting you, if that means wiping an entire continent out. You were his everything and he plans to show you that every day at every hour and every minute.

[moonstruckme]

Hi! A lil Sirius request or u could do it with one of the other boys (Remus James) but what about if his gf May be has an old injury that always flares up? (I hurt my knee years ago and even tho it's ok now every once a while if I over use it then it still hurts) and just fluff about her being upset her body won't cooperate and him just icing it and doting on her

Thank you for requesting!

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 623 words

“Try to get up one more time,” your boyfriend threatens, “and I swear to god I will sit on you.” 

“I just want the remote.” 

“And I’m getting it for you.” Sirius stretches towards the coffee table, keeping the ice pack held to your knee with his other hand. He grabs the remote that had been too far for you to get on your own, passing it to you with an exasperated look. “Relax, sweetness, you won’t miss your show.” 

“Thanks,” you huff, turning the TV on. Really, you just want the distraction. Your knee is still radiating a warm ache, your skin still prickling from the humiliation of having to admit it when Sirius had noticed your limp. 

“Don’t mention it,” he replies, voice quieter than usual. His touch is gentle as he adjusts the ice pack, careful not to press down too hard. You feel shitty for being snippy with him, and resolve not to speak until you can be trusted to do it nicely, in the way he deserves. 

It doesn’t work. Sirius is watching you, gaze shrewd and contemplative, fingers tapping a distracted rhythm on your ice pack. You keep your eyes obstinately on the TV, but it’s only a matter of time before he speaks up. 

“Penny for your thoughts, pretty girl?” 

You sigh, closing your eyes ashamedly. “I’m sorry.” 

Sirius tsks. “For acting pissy when you’re pissed? Don’t worry about it.” 

“I don’t have to be mean to you just because I’m pissed,” you say, tilting your head back on the couch cushions. “I just feel like I should be able to run a couple of blocks without crippling myself. It’s got nothing to do with you.” 

Sirius’ mouth pulls sympathetically. He brings his free hand to your hurting leg, rubbing up and down the back of your calf. “We did a lot of walking before, too,” he points out. “It was a big day.” 

“That’s just it.” Your mouth tastes bitter. “I’m not eighty years old, walking around shouldn’t be a big day for me.” 

“I know, baby,” he says softly. “I’m sorry, it’s shit. But when it’s cool out like this, and you’re putting a lot of pressure on your knee, you’ve just—you need to treat yourself a bit more gently.” You make a sour face, and Sirius squeezes your calf, lips slanting upward. “I know, you’re very rugged. You’re the picture of youthfulness and good health. But try looking after yourself the way I look after you, yeah? For my peace of mind.” 

He speaks with blasé lightness, but his words melt you like butter in the sun. You sigh heavily, feigning reluctance. “But you’re so good at it,” you complain. 

“It’s hard work, yeah.” Sirius’ canines peek out as he grins. “Don’t worry, I’ll train you up. You’d really be helping me out, taking a load off. And it’d free me up to do more things like this.” 

He keeps his eyes on yours as he leans down, dark lashes fluttering prettily close to his brow. Your cheeks heat. Sirius moves the ice pack momentarily, pressing a featherlight kiss to the skin just below your knee. 

“There,” he says decisively, putting the ice pack back in place. “It’ll be better by tomorrow now, guaranteed.” 

You bite down on your lip to keep a smile at bay. “I didn’t realize how much you’d be able to accomplish if we shared the responsibilities.” 

“Yes, well, I know I make it look easy, but it is a lot,” Sirius tells you with faux solemnity. “Is there anywhere else I should see to?” He makes a show of looking you over. “Tsk, that lip looks to be hurting, too. C’mere, gorgeous, let me take care of that.”