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icemankazansky · 4 months ago

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A Simple Guide to Not Being Afraid to Write Comments to Fic You Read

I've seen a lot of posts about the current state of fanfiction comments. Writers, especially writers who have been in fandom for a decade or more, are frustrated by the lack of comments, and have noticed a definite decline in comments (and all other forms of reader interaction) in the past ten years or so. Many readers feel daunted by the expectation of leaving comments, afraid they'll do something wrong. As a fandom old maid, the latter confused me for a while, until I realized that most of the people who feel that way probably have not been taught this form of communication.

But your loving fandom elders are here for you. Come along as your auntie tumblr user icemankazansky makes this shit easy.

The easiest way to think of fanfiction comment etiquette is to compare it to something you likely already know: Gift Receiving Etiquette.

Fanfiction began as largely a gift economy. And a lot of it still is! You'll see authors participate in exchanges like Yuletide and Id Pro Quo; those are ficswaps in which authors write for a specific person to specific prompts. And even outside that, fanfiction is not written for money; authors write and post it simply for the joy of creation and community with fellow fans. Fic is posted free for anyone to enjoy. Is that not a gift?

So. When you as a reader finish the chapter or story you're reading and you are faced with the comment box, try to follow the same etiquette you would when receiving a gift. (And even if you didn't love this gift and it's not your favorite gift ever, we already know that it's more useful than the products from your cousin's MLM that they're passing off as gifts, because you read the story. At the very least, it entertained you for the time you took to read it.)

The big rule of gift receiving etiquette is not to insult the person who gave you the gift, either directly or indirectly. That's it. Full stop.

I've been seeing a lot of comments lately that are just along the lines of, "Thank you for writing this story and sharing it with us." A+, top of the class, full marks, you're doing amazing. If you don't feel comfortable commenting on the story itself, that is perfect feedback. And that's the most basic way you respond to a gift, yes? Thank you for the gift. Thank you for thinking of me. Thank you for sharing.

Does this rule mean that you cannot say anything at all that might be negative about anything? No, absolutely not. What you want to avoid is saying something that is, at its core, a negative evaluation of the author or their work. Let's do some examples.

Character A's obliviousness about Character B's MASSIVE crush on them made me so frustrated! I was tearing my hair out internally screaming, "JUST LET HIM LOVE YOU."

✔️ Excellent comment! You're allowed to have all sorts of feelings about things that happen in the story, and in fact authors LOVE to hear about any emotions they made you feel. Yes, frustration is not a positive emotion, but the thing you are expressing frustration about is not the author themselves or their shortcomings.

Contrast that to:

I was really frustrated that it took you so long to post this chapter. The cliffhanger at the end of the previous chapter had me tearing my hair out, and then you just left us hanging FOREVER!

❌ Nope! Here what you are expressing is frustration with the author and how fast they come out with new chapters. Imagine your sister buys you a gift for your birthday, but she isn't able to give it to you until the next week, and you respond with: "What took you so long?" I think Emily Post would frown on that.

Reframing

The way you say something and the point of view from which you give feedback can have a HUGE impact on the message you're sending. Let's take the last comment (the one about wanting an update) and see what happens when we reframe the same sentiment as a positive:

I was SO EXCITED to see that you updated this story! I have really been looking forward to seeing what happened after the cliffhanger in the last chapter.

✔️ Now it's not an insult. The author will be happy to know that you are happy to see new work from them.

This idea extends beyond the story itself: to the fandom, the characters, the pairing, the tropes, etc. Let's do some examples.

I looooove reading about these sexy boys SO IN LOVE even though the movie you're writing about is SOOOOO problematic.

❌ Nope! Assume that the author enjoys the canon, characters, pairing, etc. in the stories they write. This comment is insulting to the author because it basically says, "That thing you love is not great, and you should probably feel bad for liking it." Imagine your aunt gifts you a sweater from a popular retailer, and you respond with, "This is so cute, I love it! It's a shame that it was made in a sweatshop." Do you have a valid point about the canon or the retailer's business practices? You very well might. Is this the proper time and place to talk about it? Absolutely not.

Let's do a reframing exercise. You should be very careful about how you approach commenting negatively on anything in the story that appears in the tags list, but you can make it a compliment and good feedback if you have the right perspective. See the difference with these two approaches:

I kind of think frottage is disgusting, but I liked it in this story.

❌ Nope! You just told the author you think their kink is disgusting. That's like telling your poor aunt who is just trying to keep you warm this winter that she has awful taste in knitwear. Try again.

Frottage normally isn't my kink, but I love your other stories with this pairing, so I decided to give it a try, and I'm SOOOOO GLAD that I did! This story was 🔥🔥🔥

✔️ "This normally isn't my thing, but you made me expand my horizons!" Authors love to hear that. That's like telling your aunt, "I never thought this color looked good on me, but I look so cute in this sweater! I'm so glad you helped me step outside my comfort zone, because I'm the better for it."

thank u, next

The last thing I want to address is this new trend I've seen in commenting lately: placing an order. If your mom surprises you with new headphones, you don't respond with, "I wanted the white ones 🙁," or, "You should get me a new phone, too." It's easy to see why that isn't appropriate in a gifting situation, and it's also not appropriate when commenting on fanfiction.

Let's do some examples:

This fic was soooo cute, but it would have been a million times better if Character A had been with Character C instead of Character B.

❌ There are a few things going on here. Number one, you're telling your mom you wanted the white headphones, not the ones she actually bought you. You're also disparaging the A/B pairing that the author chose to write about, and as we discussed, we can assume that the author wrote the pairing because they liked it. Even if it's not their favorite and/or they also write A/C, they made a choice for this story to be A/B, and the comments section of a fic is not the place to question choices the author made in their own work.

You should write a story where Character Z who is not even in this story does [thing that is vaguely referenced in the B plot].

❌ "You should get me a new phone, too."

I want a sequel. 😞

❌ "Thank you, next!"

You can reframe this kind of sentiment if you are careful about it, and it's not all you say.

I really loved this story. I would be so interested to see these ideas explored further if you ever decide to write more in this universe.

✔️ Not "gimme." Not "more." This is, "If you build it, I will come." It is a HUGE difference.

You already know how to do this. You know how to graciously accept a gift; just use that same etiquette, and boom! Now you know how to fearlessly write a comment to fic you read. You're doing amazing. Go forth and comment.

#fandom #fanfiction #commenting #fanfiction etiquette #emily post please help me express my feelings about this yaoi

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fanaticsnail · 9 months ago

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Kiss their cheek

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 220-650 for each character

Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, Law, Kid

Synopsis: It was a simple reaction, an impulse you felt organic and out of your control. Their cheek was right there, and the swell in your chest and spike of adrenaline prompted you to lunge forward and capture their cheek beneath your lips. How do they react to such a soft touch? Do they shy away, or do they respond in kind?

Notes: I have hit a follower milestone and I am freaking out about it. I don't normally post about the follower count, but this is simply too incredible to not mark the occasion for. To distract myself from the sheer number of you that found my writing good enough to follow, I have a little drabble for you to enjoy for my favorites. To quote the goodest and bestest boy there ever was: “Thank you for loving me.” I love you all too. Art is not done by me, found on Pinterest

Themes: cheek kisses, feelings, monster trio, supernova trio, crewmate!reader, unrequited love, confessions of love, no prior romantic relationship, gn!reader, pure fluff, A little OOC while I'm still learning about a couple of the blorbos.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @cinnbar-bun

Blackleg Sanji

“Dinner was beautiful as always, Sanji,” you cooed at him, swooping forward and collecting his smooth cheek beneath your lips in a small kiss, “Well done, Chef.” Holding his cheek in contact with your lips for a few moments longer before pulling away with a broad smile.

“You’re most welcome, love,” he returned your affectionate demonstration, his lips finding your cheek and grazing your flesh with his lips.

Both of you reacted as if this touch was not uncommon, not something out of the ordinary in the slightest. This was the first time you had given him this small gesture, demonstrating your appreciation for his hard work with something as simple as a small kiss.

The fact that this kiss was so freely given to him had Sanji’s heart catch in his throat, his pulse rapidly beating and elevating the flow of his adrenaline through his veins. His family of origin comes from a culture that kisses on the cheeks to greet and farewell friends, acquaintances and even enemies. Why did this kiss feel so perfect against his skin?

He would do anything to feel your lips on him again, often giving you preferential treatment in the hopes your lips would find his skin once more. Should he gather up the courage to turn his head, claiming your lips within his own, would you turn away? He hoped you wouldn’t.

Roronoa Zoro

His mind could not comprehend the moment that just befell him.

It was a simple night of comradery and relaxation. The air felt alight with joyful merriment: Brook playing music, Sanji ensuring each of you had an adequate meal. It felt light: nothing plaguing, hunting, seeking, nor fighting. It was simple, and that is what it felt.

It being a simple and small kiss against his right cheek.

“You are an excellent first-mate, Zoro,” you laughed up at him, taking his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, “A noble knight and fearless protector.”

Zoro’s head couldn’t produce a single thought to form a string of a sentence. He had not felt this way, the ignition of a small swell of passion to not involve swordsmanship, ever before.

In all the realms of intimacy and subtle touches, Zoro was inexperienced in receiving and reciprocating. Zoro was, for lack of a better word, a virgin to such an expression of unbridled affection.

“Th-Thanks, I guess?” he grunted, his brows arching at you. You giggled, patting him on the shoulder and offering him a warm smile.

“You’re welcome, soldier,” you cooed up at him before turning on your heel, following the gentle rise in rhythm with your hips, dancing along to Brook’s playing. He followed your movement with a keen eye, more enthusiastic about your gentle sway and soft laughter than he was moments prior.

Monkey D Luffy

“Oh, Captain!” you smiled at him, hooking your arm over his shoulder and drawing him close to your face, “Your cheeks are so cute. I could just-,” you halted your words, lunging forward and peppering his tanned cheeks with several fluttered kisses, humming throughout each press.

“Oi, oi, Docinho,” he chuckled, swatting at your hands and writhing within your arms, “Stop that. I am a hardened criminal. I am a captain! You’re not meant to think I’m cute, you’re meant to dote on me and offer me tribute of your loyalty!” You giggled, allowing him to swipe your body away from his.

His eyes darted away from yours, his lips curved in a soft pout with his brows furrowing in a deep frown. For a moment, you thought you truly offended him by your lips finding his skin. Your eyes widened, your hands shaking defensively to desperately retract your affectionate touch.

“I’m sorry, Captain. I didn’t mean to-,” you were silenced by several inexperienced kisses littering your cheeks, nose and forehead. The cheeky chuckle that followed each of the small pecks only prompted your mind to chase your heart with its rapidity. He placed his hands over your shoulders, laughing whole-heartedly at your frazzlement.

“If this is the way you’re offering me tribute as a wonderful captain,” he hummed thoughtfully, “Perhaps I’m not so bad at the job after all.”

Trafalgar D Water-Law

“You work too hard,” you sigh against his cheek, pulling away from his cool flesh and raking your eyes over his face, “You deserve to take a break some time.” You watched the small hue of pink rise to dust over his cheeks, his hair at the nape of his neck standing alert and rigid.

Unsure what exactly prompted you to seek out your captain’s cheek with your lips, you were regretting the small brush of your lips over his smooth skin the instant you drew yourself away. Watching as Law inhaled a deep breath through his nose, he exhaled a lengthy breath through his lips: following the small gesture with a soft hum.

“Just know that you’re appreciated, Sir,” you reiterated your stance, ensuring you held your eyes against his to reinforce your seriousness, “I-... We appreciate you, Captain. We love you, and want to help you achieve your goals. Just-... Just know that, okay?”

Yellow eyes followed your exit, watching every step that you took and hearing the hollow floor ricochet the reverberating tap of your boot heel. His haunted gaze held firm to your retreat, silence growing heavy at the closure of his office door.

He could not stop thinking about the kiss all day. The way your lips felt against his cheek, the way he felt the small elevation of your smile - the way his heart swelled in his chest, and the way his breath caught in his throat. He wanted to know what it meant. He needed to know if you were being friendly and supportive, or if you wanted more.

Lips over his cheek, the catching over the words “I appreciate you” with your reassurances that he is loved and worthy of devotion, inhibited him from welcoming slumber for several days. In the hopes of providing him encouragement and loyalty to soothe his rapidly sporadic mind, you aided in him in only finding restlessness.

Growling at his own racing emotions, he hastily drew up the transponder snail and dialed your personal shell. He awaited the annoying hum, the crackle of the receiver halting as you picked up the call.

“C-Captain?” your groggy voice called over the snail, “Cap, it’s nearly five in the morning. I clocked off the overnight shift and only just got to sleep-.”

“-Do you love me?” he quickly spurted the words before he could stop them.

Your mind did not have the capacity to mask your words, given your groggy sleep deprivation. Yawning your answer into the transponder, Law’s heart raced at hearing your words.

“Of course I love you. We all love you,” you confirmed, rolling your neck and taking a moment to collect yourself, “You’re my captain. I pledged my allegiance to follow you, sir. What are you calling me at-?”

“-No,” Law’s voice crackled over the receiver, his tone immediately waking you of your prior tired state, “I need to know what it meant. I need to know what it meant. Why did you kiss me?”

“What?” you began, shaking your head and brows beginning to knit in confusion, “I don’t understand what you’re-.”

“-Why would you kiss me knowing your lips would haunt me? Knowing that that kiss you gave would scorch and mark my heart?” his voice rose as his temper boiled over the edge. “You know I closed myself off to this bullshit. You know what giving me a small amount of your affection would do to me. Why would you-?”

“-Because I love you, Law,” you uttered in a low voice. You flung your legs over the bed, feet finding your sleep shoes beneath your mattress. Your confession hung heavy in the air, your heart and mind fully awake and comprehending your every waking minute. Silence was heavy and swollen with tension, your mind racing over all the possible retorts Law could throw at you.

Dismissal, execution, exile, abandonment: these were the responses you deduced to be the most appropriate response. In its stead, you were greeted with a small huffed chuckle and a low rumbled retort.

“Come to my office,” he hummed into the receiver, “Show me more. I-I-...” the transponder crackled as Law found his words, “...-I need more.”

Eustass Kid

“In some cultures, it’s seen as a sign of respect,” you nodded your head, bowing your down to him, “It’s an extension of submission and admission to serve beneath a mighty ruler. Hands are the most common to touch, but kissing a cheek is the most intimate expression of-.”

“-Fine, you can kiss me,” the gruff rumble of Eustass Kid’s voice dismissively crackled. He rolled his eyes, turning his cheek away from you to hide the bite of his lip to stifle his rising blush.

Affectionate touches was not something Kid, nor his crew, were very experienced in receiving. When he offered you the chance of joining his crew to achieve his goals, Eustass Kid did not expect you to dote and coddle each of his crewmen into submission beneath your affectionate touches. As the last member of his crew to be a recipient of your gentle touch, he truly did not comprehend why his heart was beating with anxious rapidity.

“Only if you’re sure-,” you began, halted by a harsh bark from your captain.

“-I said it was fine, didn’t I?” his gruff voice cut through the air. While his head was still turned from you, he stretched out his right hand to await a small touch from your lips.

But his cheek was right there. You couldn’t help but spring at the opportunity to rise up to Eustass Kid’s seated position on the wooden bench aboard the deck. He was ripe for doting and peppering a flurry of kisses all over his face, but you held yourself back from such an expression of unbridled affection. You opted to start slow.

Gently touching his shoulders, you stooped down and pressed a sweet and intentional kiss atop the apple of his cheek. You felt his breath catch in his throat, an unintentional whimper halting in his nose at the soft expression of your admiration.

As you pulled away from him, your upper left arm was caught by the wide and firm grasp of the captain of the Victoria-Punk. His face was still turned away from you, but the crimson hue of his pale face gave away the elevation of his heartbeat.

“I’m sorry, Captain. I should’ve just gone for the hand-,” you began, attempting to tug away from his grip and apologize properly to him.

“C-Can I-...” he grunted out a gruff cough, continuing to hold his face away from yours, “...Can I have another one?”

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buckets-and-trees · 1 year ago

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Sweet, sweet Aspen. You have been a very bad girl. This soft!dark guy, your boss, caught you doing something wrong—something that could easily get you fired—but he decided maybe, jussst maybe, he should keep your indiscretion, and your resulting punishment, between the two of you. After all, he’s been dreaming about filling you with his cock for ages 😏

(I picked this GIF because it looks like he’s saying, “On your knees.” lolll)

well, dearly beloved sister ho, you know we were thirsting over a particularly ... inspiring gif.

I don't think you anticipated your ask to spawn THIS, but... here we are! THANKS FOR POPPING MY ANDY CHERRY!

Title: I'm Your Man Characters/Pairings: soft dark!Mafia!Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 3k Summary: You've spent weeks working to pull off the perfect night for Andy Barber's big charity event. A rush job, but you worked meticulously and diligently over six weeks to coordinate the biggest event of your career to date. You weren't the only one with a plan for the night.

Content Warnings: extortion, explicit smut, DUBIOUS CONSENT, spitting, oral - male receiving, spanking, vaginal intercourse, breeding kink, unprotected sex

Logistical Notes: A NAUGHTY submission @the-slumberparty's Naughty or Nice challenge. Prompts incorporated are in bold.

Additional Notes: I didn't want to write a summary. There's only enough plot here to smut you up. Dividers by @rookthornesartistry and @firefly-graphics.

You sit up straight when you hear the door to Andy’s home office open behind you.

“Thank you for waiting for me,” he says as he strides across the room and takes a seat in the leather executive desk chair.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Barber,” you reply. Every part of your body is tired – tired in a good way from the long day of work – so you were eager to get home, soak in your tiny tub, and crawl into bed for the rest of the weekend, but it hadn’t been an incredible inconvenience when he’d asked if he could speak with you before you left.

“Tonight was exquisite, you did well,” he doles out the praise, and you try to quell the blooming in your chest. In the six weeks working with Andy Barber to plan the charity event you’d just executed for his foundation you had seen that he wasn’t one to casually compliment, hard to impress. You had taken more and more satisfaction out of each meeting, email, or text exchange as you consulted and then presented him with options for the event when he had fewer and fewer notes, knowing you had cracked his taste and gained his approval. He’d been your toughest client to date, but by far one of the most rewarding as he had excellent taste.

“Nearly perfect,” he adds.

Your smile falters ever so slightly, and suddenly your chest floods with a chill. “Nearly perfect? I’m sorry, sir, what didn’t live up to your expectations?”

This was far from your first event, you had built an incredible portfolio over the years, and you knew you were finally ascending to be one of the best event coordinators on the eastern seaboard – you had received an email request from a goddamn Vanderbilt to plan a wedding for them in a year and a half that you were going to respond to and accept in the morning. You weren’t arrogant, but you’d worked damn hard and knew you were good.

“You.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “I – what?”

“Only one misstep tonight.”

Your brain flies back through the evening, reviewing every moment, raking through trying to determine what you could have possibly missed.

“I’m very particular about what belongs to me, and I cannot abide theft.”

Your jaw drops.

“Empty your bag.”

Now your whole body is buzzing with incredulity. You shake your head.

“I know what’s in there.”

You almost didn’t take this job when it landed in your lap. He was the reason you knew you should have said no. There were whispers about his reputation, his real businesses. But you took the initial consultation because the pitch was more money than you’d made over the last three years. Then when you’d met him, he’d been so normal, so nice, maybe a little charming, and up until this moment you had convinced yourself there was no way any of those rumors had been right.

But before you even put your hand in your bag, you knew you were wrong to have thought he wasn't all those awful things.

Not one, not two, but three Rolex watches nestled in the bottom of the main pocket. Watches you'd never seen - wouldn't even have known where to find them.

You scoop them out and drop them on his desk, eyes burning with tears. “Why?”

“Yes, why? I was already giving you a fat paycheck. What a shame when I had just given your name to the Vanderbilts’ social secretary for their son’s wedding a few days ago, I’ll have to reach out and let them know.”

“No,” you breathe.

“I’ll have to discreetly let everyone in my network know it’s better not to invite someone in their home with such light fingers.”

Your breath hitches and your hand flies to your mouth to stifle an almost sob, trying to hold back the onset of tears. “Andy, no, please.”

His smile softens. “There we are,” he coos, “you finally called me Andy like I’ve told you to so many times.”

He leans forward resting his arms on his desk.

“Now, if you go upstairs, be a good girl, put on what I left for you in my room, and wait for me, maybe I can make all of this little misunderstanding go away.”

His steel blue eyes are hard, they demand an answer.

You cock your chin up wishing you could say no, wishing you could even scowl at him, but aside from the heat and hurt in your eyes, you know you can’t do anything more without risking further ruin, so ultimately you let your chin drop and nod, resigned to the impossible power this man wields.

“Now we’re back on track for a perfect night, sweetheart. I’ll be up soon.”

You don’t know how long he makes you wait, using the promise of soon as another show of his power, but long enough that your knees hurt from sitting back on your heels in a submissive, kneeling position with your head lowered, hands folded in your lap, and back to the door as the card in the white box left for you had instructed.

Also in the box had been a set of exquisite black lace and silk balconette bra and cheeky underwear. That they fit you like a glove had been both humiliating and alluring.

Even though Andy was the reason you almost said no to the job, even though he was the humiliating reason you were in this position – extorted into a nearly naked state, no question of what was to come – he was also the reason you took the job.

Dread pooled in your stomach, but along with the dread and humiliation, there were rivulets of shameful desire.

You had taken the job for the money and for how quietly charming he had been. He had never outright flirted with you, but he always left you with the question of whether he was. You worked hard for him because it felt good to win his approval. He praised you and you had preened under his intense blue eyes every time. You had forced yourself to keep everything professional.

All for nothing since you were in the farthest position of professional now.

When you finally hear him enter the room, your sit up straight again.

He tsks and says, “Head down, sweetheart.”

Andy comes around to stand in front of you. You see his perfectly polished shoes, the perfectly tailored trousers. His hand moves to your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him. He runs his thumb over your lips, circling them.

“Open your mouth,” he says.

You do.

He leans closer, then spits in your mouth, and you blink in surprise, a surge of humiliation running through you, but his grip on your jaw is powerful, so you don’t move away.

“Close your mouth but don’t swallow.”

He moves back from you then, and he begins to silently undress. He had already taken off his jacket, but he doesn’t hurry as he unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt, the buttons down his chest, and then shrugs it off his shoulders. He places it nicely on a plush armchair on the side of the room. Next he sits on the edge of the bed and removes his shoes and socks.

The way he doesn’t watch you but does all of this in your line of vision, knowing you have to watch, is another move meant to communicate who is in control of this situation. Still holding his saliva on your tongue is starting to become uncomfortable. Your instinct is to swallow, but you don’t know what disobedience may mean with Andy, so you fight the urge, not wanting to tempt any more of his darkness.

He stands and takes the shoes and socks to a large closet off to the side of the room, and when he returns, he stands directly in front of you again, takes your jaw in his hands again.

“Show me,” he says.

Your eyes watch his face you open your mouth, showing him the pool of saliva.

“Good fucking girl,” he murmurs. You hate the small bloom in your chest those words immediately invoke again. He spits into your mouth for a second time, then with a caress that is too tender he urges you to close your mouth. “Swallow.”

You do.

Andy unbuckles his belt, unbuttons the top of his fly, then unzips and pushes down the waist of his trousers with his briefs, and reveals his hard cock for you.

He’s big.

You had gotten yourself off to the thought of him a few of times late at night alone in your bed, most recently a few days ago, and you hated that you had since you were now here like this, forced on your knees in front of him.

Your core is pulsing with heat at the sight of him though – bigger than you had fantasized, and bigger than any man you’ve been with previously. You know he’ll fill you in a way that will ruin you for other men. You want and dread it.

“Take me in your mouth, sweetheart,” he commands.

Instead of forcing his cock into your mouth, this is more possessive, having you submit yourself to pleasing him of your own accord. You know every way he’s manipulating you.

“If I have to tell you one more time,” he trails off, leaving the end open for your imagination.

You plant one hand softly on his hip and wrap your other hand around his shaft, leaning forward to take him in your mouth. As you push forward, he groans. He won’t hold back when he’s pleased with you – he never has, he knows it affects you. His hands go to either side of your head. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

You do as he says, sucking him, bobbing up and down his length, and for a while he lets you control the speed and the depth, but his hands let you know he can and will control this when he wants to. After the first couple of minutes, he makes this clear when you push back to take a breath and wipe the mix of your spit and his pre-cum dripping out of your mouth and his hands firmly prevent you from moving off him. Instead, he pushes you down slowly – more slowly than you had been pumping – and doesn’t stop until your nose hits his lower abdomen. You try to push against his hips, and he pushes his hips forward with you still anchored on his dick. Your eyes well up.

“So pretty,” he says, “imagined you like this, but you’re more gorgeous than I thought you would be.”

Something in your chest melts. You wish he wouldn’t say things like that. It makes you weaker – weaker for him. He pulls back just an inch or two, then pushes his length into your throat again.

“That’s it, sweetheart, my perfect fucking girl.”

You whimper, and the tears spill over.

His right hand moves away from your face and around behind him. He’s quick, and when you can see his hand again, it’s to discover he’s taken his phone out of his back pocket. He takes photos of you, angling the phone a few different ways. Then he tosses the phone onto the chair where he’d laid his shirt.

Then he resumes his small, concentrated rutting, only easing out just enough to make the thrust back in worth it for him. As he does, he groans, swears, wipes tears from your cheeks, and the moment before it’s too much, he finally pulls you off him.

You fall forward, gasping for deep lungfuls of air, but he’s already putting a hand under your arm and hauling you up.

“Get on the bed,” he instructs, man handling you with surprising ease, doing most of the work your weak and aching legs can’t do to hoist you up onto his Alaskan king bed.

He’s immediately up as well and behind you, the last of his clothing stripped off. His fingers quickly undo the clasp of your bra and pull it off your shoulders and toss it away. He pushes you forward, toppling you down to the mattress. He slaps your ass, and you gasp and jerk. He brings his hand down on your round flesh again, with another sting, but the second one has you moan, and he lets out a satisfied, “Yes,” before giving you a third slap, the hardest, and you moan again, but this one more guttural, and you’d be mortified if you weren’t shocked over the way it translated to pleasure so quickly to your brain.

Then he yanks the lacy underwear roughly down and off your legs, tossing it away as well. He pushes between your legs behind you, splitting your legs open, and his fingers seek your cunt.

He hums in approval, “So wet for me. Ready for me.”

You huff and pant.

He leans over your back, pressing you down into the mattress. “Are you eager for me?”

“Andy,” you whine.

“Say it and I’ll fuck you good, sweetheart.”

You don’t want to. You bury your face in the covers.

He slaps your ass again, and you yelp.

“Admit you want me to fuck you.”

Another slap.

Another.

“Yes,” you finally concede.

“To breed you.”

You gasp, but he’s already hauling you further up the bed, and he drapes himself over your back, arms caging you in on either side of your body. His legs push yours apart as he leans down to press kisses over your shoulder blades, at the base of your neck, along your spine. He uses one hand to guide the thick head of his cock to your leaking entrance. He doesn’t care to stretch you. “Take me in your cunt, sweetheart, it’s mine.”

The only mercy is that he slots himself in slowly.

You press your hands up against the headboard and concentrate on taking deep breaths, on trying to relax your walls completely, because he’s entering you, in you, filling you, unrelenting invasion and it’s pleasure and pain and too much and not enough because every moment of more fullness is exquisite and you can’t even think about holding back the sound he’s pushing out from your diaphragm, up your throat, and out of your mouth, because that’s how it feels as he's filling you.

Once’s he’s fully inside of you, he presses his mouth right next to your ear. “I’m going to fill this pussy with my seed.” He anchors one hand on your hips, then begins pull out, only so he can start thrusting back in. “I want everyone to know who you belong to.”

You’ve never had an orgasm only from vaginal penetration, but the way he fills you as he fucks you, and at this angle, making you almost forget to keep breathing, you wonder if this is how you’ll go, strung out as his cock punishes you with the pleasure, but then his hand works around beneath you and his fingers quickly find your swollen and aching clit. You cry out, and one of your hands reaches back to cling to him, fingers clutching into his hair. He nips at your neck, chuckling darkly.

“My pretty girl, my good girl, taking my cock so well, you close?”

An immediate, “Uh huh,” is all you can manage.

“Then let go,” he commands, pinching your clit harshly.

You see stars, and you cry out for him.

Hearing you scream his name and feeling you clench around him is all he needs, and he pumps his cum into you, saying more dirty, filthy, possessive things, but you don’t know what the words are, because you’re completely lost to coherency.

He sinks his full weight on top of you when he’s completely spent.

Both of you are silent while you come down, heartrates returning to normal.

You wait for him to say whatever he’s going to torment you with next, but he doesn’t speak.

After more long moments, he finally pushes up enough to turn you from your front to your back. He cups your jaw again and strokes his thumb over your cheek. Your breath hitches at the intimate gesture in the aftermath.

“Aw, why are you crying now, sweetheart?”

No, you didn’t want more tears, and not these - the soft tears. You try to look away, but he forces your face back to look at him.

“I would have slept with you if you’d asked, Andy, why did you have to do it like this?”

“Because this is so much more than that, sweetheart. I didn’t want to just sleep with you, and I needed you to know from here on out that you’re mine. I own you. I’m very particular about what belongs to me. I didn’t want you to have any illusion that there’s a choice here.”

He brushes the tears off your cheek.

“I’ll have my men move your things here in the morning, and we’ll elope in a few weeks. I’m closing the deal on a resort in Lake Como, doesn’t that sound perfect? We’ll tie the knot and then spend our honeymoon there – we can stay all summer if you want.”

You hesitate.

“No one else is gonna take care of you like I do. Now I asked you, ‘doesn’t that sound perfect?’”

“Yes, Andy,” you whisper.

“Of course, it does.” He finally kisses you – and it’s dangerously soft. Warm lips engulfing yours, insistent, sucking your bottom lip between his. You whimper, and he licks his tongue into your mouth, lapping you up. He rolls over with you, putting him back on the mattress with you on his chest. He holds you pressed to him with one hand, the other hand securing your head so you can’t escape his kiss until he’s done kissing you.

It isn’t until you think you might pass out from how breathless you are that he finally breaks off the kiss. He shifts his pelvis up against you, his cock hardening again. “And I was serious about you carrying my child. But first you’ll ride my face until I’ve made you cry for a good reason, and then I’ll fill you up with more of my seed. You’re not leaving this bed the rest of the weekend.”

ARE YOU OKAY? AM I? DO WE EVEN CARE IF WE'RE OKAY?

read: -> THE MORNING AFTER

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

#andy barber x female reader #andy barber smut #soft dark andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #tw: dubcon #aspen wrote something #navy and roo's sleepover #i'm your man collection

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

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hello! :D I'm not sure if your request are open but if they are could you please write about reader and marauders playing a game something like answering questions and if they don't answer they have to drink and reader is asked who they would rather kiss (or something along those lines) out of them all and reader says Remus and they both get all flustered and the rest of the group is teasing them and whatnot and they end up telling each other about their feelings for one another like the next day or something

im sorry if this ask is like all over the place anywhooo thank you so much!<3 i love your writing btw :)

My requests are open babe, thank you!

cw: drinking game

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 837 words

Everything is pleasantly fuzzy, and your laughter bubbles up out of you with scarcely any prompting.

“Alright, alright,” Marlene says, “James, where’s the weirdest place you’ve had sex?”

James hardly hesitates. “Quidditch pitch.”

You slap a palm across your mouth, and your little circle bursts into howling laughter.

“It was really dark, though!” James justifies. “No one would’ve been able to see us if they’d looked. Anyway, my turn.” He looks around the circle, eyes narrowed in mock seriousness. “Pads.” Sirius looks up. “When you said you’d never had sex in my bed, were you lying?”

Sirius presses his lips together, looking suspiciously like he’s suppressing a smile, and drinks.

“Wha—that’s as good as an answer!” James sputters. “You prick, learn some boundaries!”

“No clue what you’re talking about.” Sirius shrugs. “Okay…y/n.” You bite your lip, doing your best to make your eyes look wide and sweet in the hopes he’ll go easy on you. “Of everyone here right now, who would you rather kiss?”

You freeze, trying to keep your gaze from darting to your immediate answer. “I…I don’t know,” you say.

Sirius shakes his head, smirking. “Not good enough, sweetheart.”

“Careful,” Marlene warns, “I don’t know if you can handle drinking much more.”

“Yeah, Pads, just let ‘er off,” Remus says. “Don’t make her sick because of you.”

“All she has to do is answer,” Sirius argues, but it’s alright, because you’ve seen your opening.

You take it. “Remus,” you say, as though the idea has just occurred to you, “because he’s being nicer to me than the rest of you.”

The group erupts in cheers and boos, and Remus’ cheeks color pink.

“Plus,” you go on, emboldened by the warmth of booze in your chest, “he wouldn’t make it weird. None of the rest of you would ever let me forget it.”

“Oi!” James protests. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Yeah, right,” Marlene laughs. “Sirius, who did James kiss last week?”

Sirius tilts his head. “Do you mean on Sunday or Tuesday?”

Marlene smirks.

“Whatever,” James says, but he’s smiling. “You’re all just jealous, Y/N too. Remus, you’d better take good care of this one. She’s got high standards, apparently.”

Now your face is warming too, and Remus nudges you with his shoulder. “It’s your turn, love,” he says. “Get him back.”

You grin. “Excellent idea. James, did you sleep in your bed after you thought Sirius had sex in it?”

James eyes go wide behind his glasses as his cheeks redden, and Remus chuckles beside you.

As usual, it’s you and Remus cleaning up after everyone else has gone to bed. James would typically at least offer to help, but he’s busy patting Sirius’ back as his friend purges everything he drank tonight in the community bathroom. You’d offered to tidy yourself and let Remus go upstairs, but he’d only said “don’t be silly” and started picking up discarded cups alongside you.

“It got a bit much tonight, didn’t it?” you ask, aiming for casual but only hitting awkward.

Remus hums. “I don’t think any more than usual.” He gives you a knowing look, made worse by his tiny smile. “They don’t usually pick on you, though, so I’m sure it felt different.”

You laugh nervously. “I guess so. I can dish it out, but I can’t take it, huh?”

“Well, they make it easy to dish,” he says mildly. “Anyway, it’s like you said. If you’d even said you’d kiss any of them, they’d never’ve shut up about it.”

You tense but nod, bending to dab at a stain of spilled drink someone left in the rug. “Yup. That’s why I picked you.”

“Is that the only reason?”

You turn, and Remus is looking at you evenly despite his flushed cheeks. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he says softly, kindly, “that if they’d asked me, I would’ve picked you too. So I guess I’m just wondering, would you have picked me, if you weren’t worried about everyone teasing you?”

The way he’s looking at you, you know he’s ready to accept whatever answer you give. Remus is watching you curiously, but there’s a bashfulness around his eyes. He wants to know, but he’ll let you off the hook in a second if you indicate that’s what you want.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “Yeah, I’d pick you.”

Remus looks like the breath goes out of him. He takes a step toward you. “Why?”

“I don’t need a reason,” you admit. Not one that makes sense, anyway. It’s just him.

Remus’ smile is borderline shy. “I’ve got tons.”

“Yeah?” It’s more breath than word.

“Mhm. Wanna hear ‘em?”

“That’s okay,” you say, and rise on your tiptoes, kissing him.

Remus kisses just like you knew he would. Soft and sweet, with little hints of urgency in the press of his hand against your back, the insistent sound he makes in the back of his throat. And you don’t need a single reason to want to kiss Remus Lupin, but you’ve got tons too.

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bandgie · 4 months ago

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Armageddon | 1 Year Event

➛ welcome to the end of the world.

we've made it to (roughly) one year of my first kpop fic! it's been a great ride and im so happy that so many people read my stuff even if I question my own ability. thank you so much for your support and I hope you have fun with this event!

Pick a Member & Prompt | rules [!!] | no longer taking requests :(

LUST - L.MH & K.SM (SKZ) ➛ intense or unbridled sexual desire : lasciviousness

GREED - C.BC (SKZ) ➛ selfish and excessive desire for more of something than is needed

PRIDE - P.SH (ENHA) ➛ an excessive love of one's own excellence

GLUTTONY - L.HS, P.JS & P.SH (ENHA) ➛ over-indulgence and over-consumption

SLOTH - P.SH (ATZ) ➛ emanates a whole world of despair, depression, boredom and restlessness

ENVY - H.JS ft. C.BC (SKZ) ➛ resentment or sadness at another's good fortune or excellence, with an often insatiable desire to have it for oneself

WRATH - J.YH (ATZ) ➛ an acid within the soul that eats away at the heart until there is almost nothing left

HUMILITY ➛ modest or low view of one's own importance; humbleness.

CHARITY - S.CB & L.YB (SKZ) ➛ the highest form of love, unselfish love of one's fellow men

CHASTITY - H.JS (SKZ) ➛ refrains either from sexual activity that is considered immoral or from any sexual activity

GRATITUDE - K.HJ (ATZ) ➛ to praise, to celebrate; to be in contact with the Divine

TEMPERANCE - Y.JI (SKZ) ➛ to use moderation in all things or to exercise self-control

PATIENCE - L.MH (SKZ) ➛ the ability to accept delay, suffering, or annoyance

DILIGENCE - S.MG (ATZ) ➛ the persistent, determined, constant and earnest effort to complete a task

FAMINE ➛ riding on the night-black horse named fear, the dreaded horseman of famine gallops onward, denying the world life-sustaining food and bringing starvation

DEATH - K.HJ (ATZ) ➛ the pale rider or the pale horseman, is the leader of the horsemen of the apocalypse who's given authority to kill men and animal alike

WAR ➛ specializes in waging war between nations and people rather than internal strife

CONQUEST ➛ said to sweep across the world, unleashing civil war and internal strife

SERPENT - C.YJ (TXT) ➛ wound its way around the human heart and filled us with its poison

LAMB - S.CB (SKZ) ➛ represents purity, and its sacrifice was a symbol of repentance and submission

FORBIDDEN FRUIT - H.HJ (SKZ) ➛ the catalyst for the fall of man— when original sin entered creation and led to the reality we face every day

I already said thank you ik but writing has always been a passion for me. whether ive been here for a year or longer or shorter with more or less notes/followers, im just so grateful to have a platform that people engage with. thank you @desirehorizon for helping me with this event and their input. please make sure to check out their posts!! (and ofc thank you for google for the definitions lol)

#armageddon event!

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hoshinasblade · 5 months ago

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Hi I love ur Hoshina fics sm!

Anyway you were asking for headcanons last time, do you think our Hoshina sends dick pics to his s/o? I'm not sure if you write nsfw but it will be fun to read if ever! Thanks x

HAHAHA anon, this is so interesting. minors, please don't interact with this one.

honestly i dont think hoshina is above sending thirst traps - he would be the type to send you a picture of him topless while still sweaty after his workout, and he'll probably throw a peace sign or two and tell you that he's just tryna be cute. liar liar, pants on fire. he gets his kicks on knowing he can fluster you with that. im a bit hesitant on dick pics though, and it's not because i think hoshina is a prude - hell no - but i think it's because he was never able to get a good angle ever so he doesn't think it's sexy enough for you to look at. and let's be honest, if he's gonna send you a picture of his immaculate junk, he would rather go to you and show it personally. im assuming he's got more privileges and therefore freedom so he can roam around even after-hours or get out of the base when he's not that needed.

one nsfw headcanon i have for this guy though is that though he never sends dick pics, he excels at moaning audios. his voice would be deep and husky from both sleepiness and lust, and he would just sound really, really hot. you mentioned to him once that you liked him dirty talking during sex and it activated a switch in his brain that you can't turn back off. he had definitely sent you multiple voice messages where you can hear him moan while he's touching himself. you overheated the first time you listened to it.

also yes, i have some nsfw prompts lined up, just gotta look for some momentum and chance to write. i know i yap a lot here but i also work full-time so that makes writing a bit hard for me since my process takes longer than i sometimes intend it to be. it's always worth it though hehe i like writing for hoshina. if you have a specific nsfw scenario you want me to write about, feel free to let me know and i can possibly whip up even a drabble or a one-shot for you.

#lian replies #hoshina soshiro #soshiro hoshina #hoshina soshiro x reader #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina x reader #kaiju no. 8 #lian's thoughts #kn8 x reader

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kannouo · 2 months ago

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This Is Halloween — The Dateables (+ Luke)!

fandom: obey me pairing: dateables (+ luke, platonic) x gn!reader warnings: none prompt by anon: Your Halloween Hc’s with the OM brothers were great! I loved them! If you want, would you consider writing the same for the dateables, especially Diavolo since it’s his Birthday ! A/N: im glad you liked the headcanons with the brothers. i decided to add a shorter bonus luke too since i got pretty into writing these. hope u enjoy, and happy birthday to my boy diavolo <33

DIAVOLO

• Diavolo loves Halloween, and he takes celebrating it very seriously.

• Absolutely organises a costume party event to take place at the castle. There will be drinks, lots of fun activities for the guests, and bowls full of candy on all of the tables for the attendees to take from. The entire palace is decorated too, thanks to Barbatos. Nobody knows how he managed to hang decor from the ceiling.

• One might think it's inappropriate for the King of the Devildom to dress in a silly costume in front of his subjects while hosting a party. But it's Halloween. Of course he's going to dress up.

• If Lucifer can't manage to dissuade him in time, he will dress as that one Princess Diavolo sticker for fun. He honestly doesn't see the issue with it — plenty of people are dressed in silly, unserious costumes. Plus, the huge ballgown is actually very pretty. Lucifer seems to be the only brother who doesn't find it hilarious.

• Honestly isn't very good at most of the activities that were set up, but enjoys them anyway. He tends to get assistance from the other attendees, which he appreciates.

• Also, definitely wants a sleepover with you on Halloween night so you can binge-watch horror movies with him. Or, if you don't like horror, he'll just let you choose any film you'd like to show him at all. He really doesn't mind.

• He'd love to participate in horror attractions around the devildom! It's just that, well, he's a king, and the scare actors aren't particularly keen on jumping out and startling their literal ruler. He'll probably get a little pouty about this, but he'll cheer right up if you suggest he go trick-or-treating instead.

• Imagine someone rings the doorbell on Halloween, you answer and it's the fucking royal family and they want all your candy.

• He has multiple bags worth of sweets by the end of the night, and he's very happy with himself! Even though Barbatos warns him not to try and eat them all in one sitting, he still probably makes an attempt.

• Can't do work the next day because of a stomach-ache.

"Diav— oh wow," you stare and blink in shock at the sight before you. Lord Diavolo, dressed in a large and luxurious dress, looking at you with a smile. "Are you... dressed as that one sticker?" "Ah, I'm so glad you recognised!" Diavolo beamed. "Isn't it amazing?" "Uh— yeah," you nodded your head, then pulled out your D.D.D. "...Do you mind if I take a picture?" "Of course! Go right ahead." Oooh, Levi is so gonna wish he came along...

BARBATOS

• Indifferent to Halloween as a whole, but takes part due to Diavolo's love of it.

• Like I mentioned, he's mostly the one who decorated the palace. He couldn't help but be very tempted by the jumpscare props he'd come across while shopping, but decided against it for the sake of the people attending the party, keeping all of the decorations fairly simple and inoffensive. He also set up all of the activities for the guests to participate in.

• Also, pumpkin pie, anyone?

• As you can imagine, he does a lot for the event itself, but doesn't really participate. Diavolo drags him into a few things, but he won't dress up. He refuses to, saying his butler clothes are fine and allows the guests to recognise that he's still working. If you beg he might wear a Halloween-themed accessory or two.

• Anything he is dragged into doing, be it apple-bobbing, candy-making or pumpkin-carving, he immediately excels at. Insists he's never carved a pumpkin before while doing the most insane, elaborate design. You don't even think he's lying, he's just that guy.

• Again, he will not willingly go to a horror attraction on his own, but he can be convinced to go by either you or Diavolo. And when he's there, nothing affects him. Not even in the slightest. You're pretty sure his poker-faced smile is scarier than most of the actual jumpscares going on.

• He has the same reaction to horror films, too. He might gently tease you for being scared, but quickly drops it in favour of either turning it off, or letting you hold onto him for the duration of the movie.

• Doesn't mind handing out candy and some of his baked treats, but tries to mix in healthier food options too. He doesn't want the guests or the King to get a stomach-ache from eating too much sugar.

"...How did you do that?" You gazed in awe at the intricate design carved into Barbatos' pumpkin. It was a replica of what the palace looked like from the outside, and he'd somehow managed to add every fine little detail with his carving knife. He smiled. "I just trusted my hands would replicate the image in my head," he said simply, then looked at your pumpkin. "Yours looks nice as well." "...Thanks." You said. You were unconvinced he could have possibly meant that compliment for your carving that was, by now, simply an indiscernible blob, but you appreciated the thought.

SIMEON

• So. Halloween originated from the belief that, on that day, the line between the living and the dead was blurred. Traditions such as lighting bonfires spawned under the premise of warding off spirits. Simeon, as an angel, I feel would still have an attachment to that origin.

• He still participates in the fun events and games, but will also cast wards in order to prevent spirits from getting too close. He tries to be pretty secretive about it as well, since he's pretty sure most demons in the Devildom won't respond kindly to the sight of angelic sanctifying magic, even if it's to protect them.

• Very happy to dress up. He tries on a bunch of different costumes, but I love the idea of him going as a deer. The fake antlers are a little heavy on his head though, so he might take them off from time to time.

• He loves the cute little Halloween-themed objects. Like Halloween-themed cupcakes, Halloween-themed window stickers, and props such as pumpkins with faces on them or boo-ghosts. He's first to decorate Purgatory Hall specifically so he can beat Solomon to it, because he just knows that sorcerer would somehow traumatise Luke if he were in charge of the decor.

• Isn't much a fan of horror, but it doesn't particularly frighten him, either. He reacts to jumpscares, sure, but not much else. A pretty good option to choose to watch horror movies or go to haunted houses with though, because even though he isn't really a fan, he's steady enough to bring you comfort the whole time.

• Super sweet to any trick-or-treaters that come to the door. He always makes sure to buy the large chocolate bars to hand out, and he compliments the costume of every kid that comes by.

• Asks you to tag along with him and Luke to go trick-or-treating. They're both 100% respectful of "take one!" signs, every single time.

Luke gleefully skipped up to the nearest house, ringing the doorbell and gesturing for you two to "come here". You and Simeon hurried forward a little to catch up with him before an older lady opened the door, greeting the three of you with a friendly smile. "Trick or treat!" She leaned to the side, picking up a bucket full of candy and offering it to Luke. "Here, take whatever you like." "Not too much, Luke." You warned, and Simeon gave a nod and a smile. "Haha! Nonsense, your son can take as much as he likes." You felt Simeon freeze up at the same time you did. ... "Huh?! I'm not their son!"

SOLOMON

• Spooky season for this man is an excuse to be a menace.

• As if he needed one.

• A little bummed that Simeon got to decorating before he did, but still, he can work with it. He enchants some of the props to move and jerk violently whenever someone walks too close to it, giving both Simeon and Luke the fright of their lives when they get up for water in the middle of the night.

• His costume is a classic witch/wizard outfit. Everybody boo him for being boring and unoriginal. Boo!

• He carries around a wand just for authenticity, but will actually proceed to cast spells using it for the rest of the night. It's completely unnecessary and just requires extra effort, but he likes being able to threateningly point a wand at people.

• Really enjoys the activities and games. He actually won't try to use magic to win, he'll do it legitimately, but is so good at the apple-bobbing that everyone is pretty sure he enchanted the apples somehow and are refusing to touch them like they're contaminated.

• On that note, don't let him do the candy-making stuff. It doesn't matter how close an eye you keep on him, he will mess it up somehow. He made quite possibly the worst candy apple the three worlds have ever seen.

• Is perfectly okay with handing out candy to trick-or-treaters while Simeon and Luke are out. He does tend to scare the kids, though... He thought enchanting the garden props to dance would be a fun little surprise. He didn't mean to make that kid cry, honest!

"Solomon!" You stormed into the living room, where Solomon turned and meet you with a far-too-easy smile. "Why did some little boy's parents just show up at our door?!" "Hmmm... maybe he didn't like the candy options we gave out?" He lifted his hand to his chin, as if thinking hard. "They said you made him cry using some weird jumpscare prop in the garden!" "Oh, that?" He shook his head. "It wasn't a jumpscare prop, I just used a little magic to make one of the garden gnomes stand up and sing a little 'goodbye'." "What possessed you to think that would be anything but horrifying?!"

BONUS: LUKE

• Like Simeon, is moreso into the actual origins of Halloween than the holiday itself. Unlike Simeon, gets way too into it and takes it far too seriously.

• Everything scares this poor kid. He tried to exorcise a cardboard cutout that Solomon enchanted to move around, and later insisted it hadn't scared him that badly, he was just trying to protect the house!

• Everyone keeps harassing him to dress up as a dog and he does not find it funny.

"Luke?" You tilt your head as the young angel stormed into your room, shutting your door behind him with a huff and sitting cross-armed on the edge of your bed. "What's wrong?" "Solomon bought a dog costume for me!" He complained, turning to you. His jaw dropped when he saw the expression on your face. "It's not funny!" You slapped a hand over your mouth. "Right, right, no, of course not," you nodded, standing up and trying to hold in your laughter. "I'll go tell him to get a better costume for you."

#obey me #obey me x reader #obey me shall we date #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me luke #obey me headcanons

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midnight-black2 · 6 months ago

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Ahh this is my first time requesting anything but I need prompt 5 for Farleigh 🙈

Imagine him being cocky for getting a higher score than reader and reader basically putting him in his place. 🫣🫣 (also i’m absolutely obsessed with your writing!!)

𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐘

pairing : farleigh start x reader

synopsis : pretty much what the req says

disclaimers : sub!farleigh, dom!reader, public sexual intercourse (idk what this is called), handjob (m!recieving), slightly mean reader, degradation, ruined orgasm, probably more lol

note : thanks for the compliment ! hope you enjoy this '

it was by five points, five fucking points, and all farleigh did was torture you about it.

typically, you scored higher than him, mostly because you just straight up put in more effort. he couldn't care less about studying, he was just a naturally good tester. for this reason, he normally knew his place. but the one time he studied and you didn't, the one goddamn time. he wouldn't let you live it out, all he would ever do was talk about it, teasing you and making fun of you.

"wow Y/N, i think you're falling off," he stated, with a sarcastic, disapproving look. he was leaning over, hovering over your shoulder to get a proper look at your score. you were flabbergasted, you actually got a 95%. farleigh had gotten an 100%. if was quite literally embarrassing. that was when it first happened, but he didn't leave it there, oh no.

"ah-ah, don't you think i should skip ahead of you?" farleigh asked, his annoying voice startling you from your thoughts.

"what?"

"well i got a higher score, those have always been our rules." the thing you hated most was that he was right. it was also stupid because he made the damn rule, and you didn't care about being ahead in the lunch line one way or another. you figured the only reason he had done it was to make victory that much sweeter when he actually did score higher than you. so you stayed silent, letting him sit ahead of you.

and another incident...

"so if anyone here needs tutoring, don't hesitate to ask. our programs are specifically designed to connect students while effectively getting them to learn," mrs. abram spoke, as she handed out tutoring flyers.

farleigh shot you a glance, before mumbling your name, and covering it up with a fake cough. you groaned, with a sigh before frustratedly stuffing the flyer in your bag. he was being insufferable, and there was only so much you could take.

the final (notable) time he teased you, you two were partnered on a history project, the exact class he had excelled on the exam in. of course, just your fucking luck.

as he sat down, he had this complacent smirk on his face that you wanted to slap right off. he set the assignment papers down on the desk, and turned over to face you.

"well, i'm glad we got partnered, yeah? you probably need my help," he said, mockingly.

"jesus christ farleigh it was five fucking points! get over yourself!" there it was, you snapped. it was only a matter of time, though it just so happened to be in the middle of class. farleigh's smirk only grew, as if this was what he had wanted the entire time. the teacher had scolded you for cursing, and almost dismissed you from class. fortunately, you managed to stay, and the whole time you felt the urgent need to snap farleigh in half.

finally, after what felt like days, the class ended. however, instead of heading to the next class, you followed farleigh down the hall, before pushing him inside of some random storage closet. he was about to ask you what you were doing, he was about to leave...until you said something.

"what the fuck, farleigh," you uttered, coldly. he faltered, something in the way you sounded made him feel some sort of way. it was dark, and farleigh couldn't make out much, but if he had to guess, your expression would have been that of a deadpan, glaring into his soul.

"i don't get why you're so mad. i scored higher, and that's final."

"i'm mad because you don't know your fucking place." you spat back, inching closer to him.

"yeah? and what's my place, hm?" he questioned. his voice had an edge to it, but more than that he was genuinely curious.

"beneath me," you answered, no hesitation whatsoever. did you say it because that's what you actually thought? no. were you angry? yes. did you think farleigh would get off to it? also yes--and, he did. he did so much that he was developing a hard-on.

"you sure about that?" he asked, voice wavering.

"your dick is," you replied, gripping his cock in his pants. his knees buckled, and he let out the smallest whimper, that was nearly inaudible. "you're so pathetic, farleigh."

"yeah? well you're still gonna give me a handjob. so pathetic or not at least-" he cut himself off with a moan as you squeezed roughly once again.

"just shut the fuck up for once," you instructed, as you unzipped his fly. you, not-so-gently, took his cock from his boxers. his tip was an angry flushed red, and leaking pre. you chuckled at the sight, and he turned to face away, embarrassed.

you thumbed at his tip, and he whined softly. your fingers formed a circle shape, before sliding up and down at mid-pace. if you didn't want to miss too much of your next class, you'd have to make this quick.

"f-fuck, Y/N," he moaned, bucking his hips up slightly. you placed a hand on his hips to keep them pinned. you sped up your pace just a bit.

"is this what you've been wanting, farleigh? i really don't know how you got an 100% because all you seem to do is think with this stupid cock of yours," you said, as it was your turn to smirk this time. his head tipped back with a strained moan.

"shit, oh my god," he cursed, feeling himself grow close to an orgasm already.

"guess i should've done this a lot sooner, hm? really would've shut you up." your hand became brutal, but god did he like it.

"please," he said, not even sure what he was begging for. it was too much for him.

"please? are you serious? you take what i give you, farleigh." he whined at that, cursing under his breath.

"fuck Y/N, i can't-i...i think im gonna cum," he stammered, as his legs felt light, like they would give out any second. and just like that, you stopped. he whined, as you shoved his cock back in his underwear, and zipped back up his pants. you had left him with a raging boner, and he felt he could cry at that. as you exited the closet, he couldn't help but fear what he had gotten himself into.

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 © 𝐤𝐲𝐚-𝐢𝐬-𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐥

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐲? 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

#archie madekwe #dom reader #dom!reader #farleigh start #archie mademay #saltburn #smut #farleigh x you #farleigh x reader #farleigh start x you #farleigh start x reader #sub!farleigh

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sukunastoy · 2 months ago

Note

Heyyy babe, welcome back 💗💗 You asked for some Sukuna prompts, and maybe this could be something for you: CEO Sukuna coming home to us after a long, stressful day, and we help him de-stress. Maybe some needy kitchen-sex while he's cooking dinner? Or some sexy time in the bathtub?

Have fun!! I am sending you lots of love 💗💗

Hello baby!! <3 I've missed writing so much! I certainly hope you enjoy this!! I know I did. Thanks for the prompt @yuujispinkhair !!

Dessert~NSFW Pairings: Fem! Reader x CEO Hubby! Sukuna (non curse AU) CW/TW: Oral, both m and f receiving/giving, unprotected sex, hair pulling, vaginal penetration. WC: 1.4K+

Enjoy~!

Managing an entire company must be an adruous task. Keeping up with all the meetings, business trips and organizations is nothing you could ever fathom doing. But, your husband was good at it. In fact, he excelled in all the strenuous requirements. You've popped into his office a time or two when surprising him for lunch and caught him in action. His tone and demeanor were so different when he focused on work, you couldn't help but admire him for it. It was because of him you had a lavish little life, and you never wanted to take that for granted.

So when he came home this evening, looking completely worn out and irritated, you wanted him to know how thankful for him you were. Despite him managing all day, he still enjoyed cooking when he got home. You weren't denied cooking dinner for him, but it was something that relaxed him, so you did your best to leave it up to him. Besides you were a klutz in the kitchen who could somehow catch water on fire if you weren't paying attention. Your fame shined as his little sous chef. Handing him things and taking care of the minor tasks were your responsibility. You'd smile proudly in your little apron as you mixed things on the stove or cut up something for him to use.

After your husband changed into a different flawless outfit, he headed towards the kitchen. Normally you'd trot right along side him ready to help, only this time you lagged behind for a moment. Once Sukuna realized you weren't standing near him, he glanced back to the entrance of the kitchen, curious to where you were. Of course, you were there for him to see, but this time, with only your apron on. He cocked a brow to your lack of clothing, but had no complaints as you pranced passed him to the pantry, ready to get some ingredients for him. Oh, he will probably need the bag of rice, and that's at the bottom, better bend over to grab it. You don't even need to see Sukuna to know he's zeroed in on your shamelessly exposed cunt. Such a dangerous act. Despite your little teasing, your husband was a man of composure. As you helped him prepare to cook, he certainly let it be known that he was paying attention to how you walked and continued to purposely show off. You knew it was just riling him up inside. "Here. Taste this." He finally broke the silence, turning to you and offering a spoon with a small amount of sauce on it. You smiled to him before letting your mouth drop open and your tongue hang out, looking up to him like you were posing for a cum shot to the face. A smirk tugged at his lips as he took hold of your jaw, slightly squishing your cheeks together with his fingers. He fed the sauce into your mouth, and you closed your lips around the spoon, moaning in satisfaction at the flavor. Even if you were being promiscuous in this moment, everything he made was truly delicious. "Taste good?" You nodded while sucking the spoon clean, letting a little dribble down your lip. You cleaned it with your tongue, looking up to him again from under your lashes. "Anything else I can taste?"

Absolutely there was. It didn't even surprise you that Sukuna could still keep so much focus on the stove and what he was cooking while you were on your knees, desperately sucking his cock. You held onto his muscled thighs through his pants while fucking your throat with his length. Ocassionally, youd catch his gaze and you'd whimper in delight, seeing the absolute pleasure and approval upon his face. He might be quiet and reserved, but you've known him long enough to decipher what he's truly feeling. Especially when you're servicing his dick like this. The aromas of dinner filled the air, but all you could really inhale was his scent. A deep groan left his throat while his cock twitched down yours. You gathered his heavy balls into one of your hands, gently giving them a squeeze.

Another sigh of pleasure left his lips and he suddenly wrapped his fingers into your hair, tugging you back from his cock. Your sloppy mouth made a pop as you were pulled away, tongue hanging out again as you longed to continue. He looked down to your watery eyes, drinking in the sight of how you were obviously struggling to keep him down your throat just seconds prior. "Should we have dessert now or after dinner?"

"Why not both?" you smiled innocently up to him, moving forward to nuzzle your face against the head of his throbbing cock. "You've been working so hard, I think you deserve as much dessert as you want tonight."

Well, you didn't have to tell him twice.

You were pulled off of the ground just seconds later, spun around to be pushed up against the fridge nearby. Sukuna dropped to his knees behind you, lifting one of your legs so he could bury his face into your cunt. His other hand held onto the fat of your thigh below your ass, keeping you pinned against the appliance as he ate you out in such an animalistic way. This man loved to cook, so of course he knew how to eat, and he was so fucking good at it. You moaned against the stainless steel door, the fog of your breath fanning over it as Sukun nipped and sucked in all the right places. Before your leg could give out on you, he stood and used his body as an anchor to keep you pinned in place. Your breasts smooshed together against the surface, nearly popping out from the apron as your husband slipped his cock into your dripping pussy.

A hiss came from between his teeth as he easily sank balls deep into your soaking cavern. You pushed your hips back, shoving them into his while holding onto the sides of the fridge and curving your back inwards so he could fill you at the best angle possible. He gripped onto your ass, his strong fingers digging into the plump mounds to keep you spread apart as he fucked himself into you. He watched where his cock disappeared into your cunt over and over, eyes fixated on your glossy slick coating him, and the stretch of pink that was suctioning around him with every thrust.

"Fuck, you feel s'good." he groaned in approval, leaning forward to kiss the side of your neck. "Kuna...I-I wanna..!" "So soon already?" He teased against your skin, small pants of his breath tickling over your ear, causing you to shudder. Suddenly he paused, making you whimper out as he glanced off to the side at the oven timer. "'Bout thirty seconds left before dinner is ready, so let me fuck this orgasm out of you real quick."

You yelped out towards the ceiling as Sukuna's fingers gripped your hair again near the roots, pulling your head back and tilting it so he could kiss the underside of your jaw. Your body melted in his strong hold as he fucked you like a doll against the fridge, every hard thrust causing a little scream to burst from your lips. The head of his dick hammered into your sweet spot, making your walls tighten around him. "That's it sweetheart, cum on your Kuna's cock like a good girl."

Your head spun as you came, sending you into a delerious high. Your husband held you in place, keeping your shaking body upright as you writhed in ecstacy against the fridge, cunt milking his fat cock buried so deep wihin you. The timer went off and you cried out in unison, your pleasure dripping down your legs as Sukuna fucked you through your orgasm, damn near sending you into a daze of overstimulation.

Your legs still trembled as you sat across from your husband, trying to eat with composure. You almost envied how he remained so calm and collected, casually eating dinner even though he just fucked you like an animal against the fridge not too long ago. However, his gorgeous eyes would catch your gaze, and you could feel his need to continue growing all over again. Without wasting any time, once the two of you finished your plates, you cleared the table with haste. It wasn't long before your were pinned down over the edge of it, moaning like a whore as you served your husband dessert again, and again, and again.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! <3

P.S. for Yuujispinkhair, I HAD to include the fridge. 🥴

Btw since its been a while since I've actually written anything, I apologize if its not up to par, AND, if you want to be added to my tag list, let me know. <3

As always, comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

#sukuna jjk #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #prompt #dessert

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anika-ann · 7 days ago

Text

Thirst for Life (As It Is) - S.R.

Type: one-shot, established relationship, next-to-zero plot

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 3,7k

Summary: You loved him for it; you hated it. You were still coming to terms with it, still learning to accept and believe that he damn-well meant it when he said he would always fight tooth and nail to come back to you.

You’d count your blessings; you celebrated his efforts by being the very home he was to you to him and if you could sooth his pain in any way you knew, as a physical therapist, as his lover, as a human being, you would.

A slice of life kind of fic, a moment of love life of Steve Rogers and his beloved.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, fingering, oral (F rec), allusions to penetrative sex, brief mention of canon typical injuries, briefest allusions to angst, FLUFF, dorks in love

A/N: Super belated entry for Stevie BB 200 Followers Celebration Writing Challenge hosted by @steviebbboi. Thank you for hosting and congrats again💕 I got inspired by the prompt Aw, does it feel good right here?🤭

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @saradika-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰

Lips pressing to heated skin; to entice, to sooth the burning.

Fingertips dancing over strained muscles. Body arching into the touch.

A silent blissful keen escaping.

A sinful whisper.

“Aww, is that the spot, love? Does it feel good right there?"

A blatant, wicked tease, rewarded by a breathless curse spilling from parted lips, a soundless complaint.

Unable to help yourself, you giggled, kissing the spot again, earning a grunt – a sound of protest and approval alike.

“Just you wait…” Steve muttered, annoyed and somewhat fond at once, groaning when you pressed with your fingers this time, feeling the tight knot right under his right shoulder blade as if growing thicker to rebel against your care. “And this isn’t funny.”

You licked your lips, biting back to fight another laugh and losing anyway.

“Come on, Steve… it’s a little funny.”

It was a little funny.

Steve Rogers, a mighty supersoldier, all muscle and broadness, filling the space of the large bed. A paragon of strength and justice, shoulders wide enough to carry the weight of the world, his heart a shield for those who needed protection, his shield the heart of the Avengers. A seemingly fearless leader, a strategic mastermind, an excellent fighter; the embodiment of masculinity and power and righteousness and love.

All that and more – brought to its knees by a pulled muscle.

Of course, if it were up to Steve only, he would not even let this slow him down, not in the slightest, let alone bring him down his knees. Oh no.

It was your gentle offer; a soft touch of a hand, a sweet promise, a confession and a plea on your lips.

“Let me help, love.”

A gaze of mutual affection exchanged; a kiss to his lips to seal the deal with tenderness you knew your might have to abandon if you wanted to help set his body right.

It was a little funny.

The huge hunk of supersoldier muscle, turned into a puddle of a man under your touch. You treated him with as much skill as you would any other client or a patient of yours, if perhaps with a little softer care and with considerably less professionalism.

Obviously, Steve was not your usual client or patient; Steve Rogers was infinitely much more to you. The love radiating from the depth of your heart turned tangible in his proximity; undeniably present in your touch, be it your hands or your lips trying to sooth the pain, be it you straddling his hips which seemed almost absurdly narrow in comparison of the enormity of his shoulders, be it your words of affection or gentle teasing.

Obviously, Steve was not your usual client or patient; most of those who came in specifically with a pulled muscle were there because they had been helping a friend moving furniture, overestimated themselves in a gym, or snapped their head to the side too fast.

Your boyfriend of almost one year, on the other hand, had pulled a muscle when lifting a goddamn car off of someone to whose rescue he had rushed to.

Pressing against the knot, gently but firmly enough to make Steve groan – a sound of complaint bleeding into one of gratitude as you gradually released the pressure – you allowed the piece of information about him having practically lifted a car wash over you again, the astonishment at absurdity and curiosity of life fresh as if it was something entirely new to you.

But it wasn’t. It most definitely wasn’t the first time you had been confronted with this part of who Steve was. It wasn’t the first time you were confronted with how much the serum had enhanced his strength and possibly stubbornness, with what he did for living and how, or with the insistent calling in his very soul to help and serve and be nothing but a profoundly good man. It was hardly the first time and yet you guessed it would never cease to amaze you.

His good heart and his kind soul. His brilliant mind and his incredible body. A man all strong and resilient, but not invincible, not unbreakable.

And perhaps that was where the laugh was coming from – the reason why you couldn’t quite help yourself but tease him, why you couldn’t quite stop giggling.

The relief.

Because Steve Rogers – one of the greatest heroes of your time and the past alike – coming back home with only a pulled muscle was nothing short of a miracle, and this was how your strained body and mind expressed the utter, overwhelming relief coursing your veins.

Because Steve came home. Home to you.

Another day, another save.

Another day he could have caught a knife to his gut or to his neck. Another day he could have caught a bullet an inch from his heart or straight through. Another day he could have been taken and tortured for information or for the twisted fun of hurting Captain America.

None of that had happened.

Instead, it was another day Steve came home to you in one piece. Even if tired and with a pulled muscle.

You’d count your blessings, over and over, more so since you knew how and why he had pulled that muscle; gold of heart and dumb of ass, he couldn’t have waited for someone to come help him, not when the man who had been pinned under a damn car was so clearly and understandably in pain.

Steve’s mind was a brilliant thing, coming up with impenetrable strategies, with a plan B for the plan B and with a plan C and D just in case, carefully predicting outcomes and calculating risks; sometimes he just got bad at math when calculating risks for himself when he couldn’t bear seeing others suffer.

You loved him for it; you hated it. You were still coming to terms with it, still learning to accept and believe that he damn-well meant it when he said he would always fight tooth and nail to come back to you.

And he’d let you, even if the first time you had met had certainly not been the case. Not with him having been dragged in, after having his knee busted in a fight, arguing that he did not need anyone’s help, because he was enhanced by the supersoldier serum and his body had always healed on its own. You wouldn’t have it; you had met all the unwilling patients and sceptics. So you took one glance at the man who had literally dragged him in – his best friend, Bucky Barnes, seemingly more exhausted by his attitude than by the fact he had been carrying a significant weight of the huge pile of muscle Steve Rogers was – and then took another look at the man behind the shield himself, before you listed all the muscles, tendons and bones that would have begged him to differ in reaction to such claim.

To this day, you were not quite sure whether it had been your knowledge or your ability to simply not have his attitude that had impressed him more, but later you would find out his attitude was more about him feeling like others needed your help more than him and less about him questioning your field or expertise. That had mattered to you; what mattered also was that Bucky was never going to let you or Steve live your so-called meet-cute down, claiming he knew right away Steve had fallen in love the very second.

So you’d count your blessing and you’d let yourself feel whatever came, and you’d let yourself be consumed by the love with gratitude and thirst for life as it was.

You let yourself laugh again even as Steve grumbled under you, muttering something about maybe deserving it. You appreciated the self-awareness. You appreciated him.

You smiled as you let your hands roam with purpose, warm touch mapping out his pains and still taking moments to caress and indulge in exploring his body, cherishing the beautiful view of the expanse of his back and the feel of his strength yielding to your care with endless trust.

“I feel a little less treated and little more objectified at this point,” he muttered, a smile evident in his voice even before your gaze flickered to his face, now turned to side as he rested his cheek on the back of his hand.

One corner of your lips rose higher, barely a flicker of shame in your chest. You’d never violate a patient or a client like that; but you’d also never miss a chance to feel closer to Steve, miss a chance to touch him, to cherish the contact and to make him feel loved.

“Is there a complaint you’d like to submit, sir?” you questioned, a wide smile setting on your lips as he hummed in disapproval.

Still, you finished the treatment with a last few strokes that were indeed more of a gentle closing than anything else, climbed off of him and pulled the blanket over his naked back to keep the muscles warm.

He blinked his eyes open as you sat by his side on the bed, leaning in to kiss his forehead.

The second he reached out his hand to hold you, you clicked your tongue disapprovingly, making him huff but obediently stop his progress.

“You know the rules, Steve. Stay still for a bit, let the body process. I’ll bring you some fluids.”

He sighed, squinting at you with adorable defiance. “I do know… I don’t have like it. Maybe just a minor complaint then.”

You grinned, leaning closer to him on the pillow, feeling your heart tremble in thorough warmth as he observed you with sleepy intent and a look closest to adoration you had ever seen.

“What’s that, Captain Rogers?” you whispered conspiratorially.

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

You relaxed into the mattress, shoulders slumping, heart a second from melting as the lightest and most delightful feeling spread through your veins, a rush so powerful it almost chased tears into your eyes.

To care and be cared for; to love and be loved, so utterly you had never believed it possible until you met Steve Rogers, most certainly the love of your life.

Reaching out, your fingertips lightly caressed his cheek, his eyelids slipping shut; you brushed over the arches of his brows, over the slope of his nose, over his lips – instantly pursing for a light kiss to your fingers – and caressed his scalp, only to meet his gaze again, so tender you felt something inside your soul shift and shudder in pure happiness.

“I know you will when I need it,” you assured him, bringing a ghost of a smile to his face. “And I’m pretty sure that’s the idea. That we’re supposed to be taking care of each other, love.”

A sparkle lit up his tired eyes, his smile turning positively goofy.

“I like that,” he whispered.

“Good,” you said, pressing another kiss to his forehead and climbing to your feet. “Now be a good patient and stay still for a bit, just like everyone else… no matter how special you are to me.”

“Mmm, if you say so… I love you.”

You fought the urge to lie next to him, reminding yourself that if you got him fluids now, you could lie with him and bask in his warmth later and with no interruptions.

“I love you too, Steve.”

By the time you got back, hands clean of the essential oil and full with a mug of tea and a tall glass of water, you found him fast asleep, still on his front, arms hugging his pillow.

Not bothering to fight off your smile this time, you set the mug on the nightstand, tucked the blanket higher to his chin and climbed up to the bed to sit and prop up on the headboard.

You reached for the engagement ring you had taken off for the massage first and put it back where it belonged, and only then for your half-read book, gaze once more flickering to man who had stolen your heart and would never give it back.

Attention divided, you read; but mainly you kept your future husband company, watching over his peaceful and more than deserved sleep.

Because that was what you were supposed to do; watch over each other, look out for one another, and take care of each other.

And in a few months, you’d promise to continue doing that with love for the rest of your lives, swearing so in front of your friends and families.

Lips pressing to heated skin; to entice, to sooth the burning.

Fingertips dancing over strained muscles. Body arching into the touch.

A silent blissful keen escaping.

A sinful whisper.

“Aww, is that the spot, love?” he teased, every syllable dripping off his lips rich and heady like honey, and even with your eyes fluttered shut, you could see his beautifully wicked smile, the spark in his eyes that shone dark, lit alive in a way that was reserved for you; and only for you. “Does it feel good right there?"

You recognized the echo of your own words, Steve’s voice coloured with sweet vindication. He knew exactly what he was doing and he revelled in it; you would protest and complained again if your lips remembered how to speak beyond Steve’s name and breathless pleas. You would protest if you truly wanted to and he would stop in an instant. You would protest if your hands were not literally tied.

Again, unlike your other patients, all Steve had needed was your skilled touch and a good rest. A few hours of sleep, Erskine’s serum working its magic and he had been good to go; perhaps not for another mission, not for a training session, but for repaying your service with love and adoration and desire.

Hugging your middle after waking up, resting his head over your thigh, he had sent a single glance up at you and you had very well forgotten what you had been reading.

He had kissed your palms in thank you, one and then the other, lingering with his gaze and his lips, and you had already been forgetting your own name.

He had pressed a kiss to your wrists, wrapping them in satin like a precious gift, smiling as he had to ruck up the sleeves of his very shirt you had chosen to wear to bed to do so.

He had ghosted his lips over your fingertips as he tied your wrists to the headboard, making sure you rested your hands, the most important asset for your work; conveniently putting your engagement ring on display for him to see at all times while doing so.

He had met your lips in a kiss so sultry you barely caught your breath, before they strayed over every inch of newly revealed skin as he unbuttoned the shirt, lingering in all his and your favourite places, hands roaming, caressing, holding, owning.

You arched against his mouth when he reached his prize, forearm draping over your middle, keeping you grounded as he lifted you towards the stars once, almost for the second time, until his fingers joined to show off his own talented touch and to bring you to the brink of madness.

“Did not quite catch that, sweetheart,” he muttered to the burning skin of your inner thigh, rendering you speechless with his tongue before you could catch your wits and answer. “I suppose I should try again…”

“Steve-“

“Right here, love… give me one more. Let me take care of you… you said you knew I would take care of you when you’d need it, didn’t you? Do you need it now, love?”

Steven Grant Rogers, you little shit- was the thought that flew through your head so fast you couldn’t hope to catch it let alone verbalize it. Not with how your head was beginning to spin when his lips, his hands, his wicked tongue and seemingly innocent filthy talk carried by his deep voice overwhelmed your senses and chased you higher and closer to your peak with every passing torturous second.

“Yes-“ was what actually spilled from your lips breathily, followed by a keen of please.

“Then be good and stay still.”

Steve’s dark mischievous gaze met yours, the erotic sight of him between your legs, wide shoulders barely fitting, with his palm sprawled to your belly and seemingly enjoying himself thoroughly was your undoing, along with things he did and you could not hope to put into words; not when your vision whited out with a cry of his name and wave of numbing bliss washing over you and pulling you under.

You were trying to catch your breath as he let you ride out your high, firm, wet languid kisses pressed to your thighs, your stomach, your breasts with just a graze of teeth to both increase your pleasure and to satisfy the man who loved to get lost in exploring your body and consuming you whole.

When his lips finally met yours again, you did not care you still hadn’t quite earned enough oxygen, whimpering against the demanding kiss as Steve’s fingers curled just to press at the spot again, while he casually rested his weight on his elbow, left hand interlacing his fingers with yours to feel the ring he had slipped on your finger just a few weeks ago.

“Love you so much, sweetheart. Love seeing you like this, so beautiful, so blissed out and so, so mine…” he whispered, voice hoarse as if he had been the one to crying out in ecstasy.

“I love you too, Steve.”

Instinctively moving to touch him, to keep him closer, you tugged at the soft fabric around your wrists, huffing in frustration when all you could do was squeeze Steve’s hand tighter.

“Hands, love?” you pleaded, arching your body against his, hovering too high for your taste even when your bare chest brushed his, your body drinking hungrily the heat which his own was radiating. “Want to touch you.”

“Anything for you, love.”

As thoroughly distracting as his lips were, pressing back to yours as he blindly loosened the knots, your hands sprang the moment you were free, sighing as the utter delight at holding onto your lover flooded every cell of your body, fingers raking through his hair, digging into his back to pull his closer to your embrace.

His lips eased the pressure, nose bumping yours, fingertips brushing your cheek tenderly, his smile as sweet as sinful, and when you blinked your eyes open, you couldn’t but bask in the blinding light of adoration shining in Steve’s blown pupils.

“You alright, sweetheart? Can you take more?”

The question nor the concern were new; yet they tasted as lovely as Steve’s smile when he leaned in to kiss you again.

You ran your hand down the lovely expanse of his back, pressing to meet his hardness, a wordless agreement.

“Yes, just… be careful.”

Steve’s lips parted from yours with a wet pop, genuine worry instantly overtaking his features, his weight easing from your body – almost making you regret what you were about to say when he’d inevitably ask-

“Are you hurting? Did I do anything-“

“I’m fine, Stevie…” you assured him, brushing a lose strand away from his forehead, smoothening the crease that formed there, your wildly pounding heart shivering from his tender care for you, his consideration, his willingness to walk away from chasing his own pleasure and just hold you should you wish so for whatever reason.

You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, his frown only deepening with disapproval as he probably thought you were about to downplay whatever it was that bothered you, what he had done to hurt you or was causing you pain – like Mr. Hypocrite, your softest, biggest love.

“No need to worry, Steve. I just want you to be careful, you know… you might pull a muscle and need medical and fluids after.”

A beat of silence, bated breaths.

And then you were bursting out with laughter at Steve’s scandalized expression, the sound blending into a yelp as he grabbed you by the hips and lifted you to the air. He stood up in a whirlwind of a movement, spinning you until your back hit the wall, blow softened by his palm while his other moved under your bottom, fingers digging to your flesh, pinning you to the hard surface by his hips, his chest, and mainly by his lips crashing against yours, stealing the laughter from you very lungs, drinking your love from the very bottom of your heart.

He nipped at your bottom lip, hips bucking against yours, his voice a sultry promise you couldn’t wait for him to make good on; for all the teasing, you knew that indeed, your Steve would have caring for you at the forefront of his mind. You could feel his love undeniably present in his touch, be it his hands or his lips, be it his words of affection or the gentle, exhilarating threats:

“Oh just you wait, love… we’ll see who’ll need what after I’m done with you… I was so well-taken care of by my future wife, I think I want to start training for our wedding night. And sweetheart,” he whispered, warm breath brushing your ear, “I think it’s time we try to push our record to double digits.”

As a shudder ran down your spine like a livewire, your heart jumping to your throat with how your blissed-out mind scrambled to try to imagine that, you let your body sink into his, counted your blessing, and let yourself feel whatever was about to come.

You let yourself be consumed by love with gratitude and thirst for life as it was.

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

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May November be kind to you💕

#steviebbboiwritingchallenge #bbboi200celebration #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #happy Steve rogers #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #thirst for life as it is #anika ann

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dazaiandhislovelybandages · 7 months ago

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hii~ i hope you’re having a good day/night! i was wondering if you could do Mu Qing from TGCF with the prompt #16. "Don't ever say that name again"? idk why but i can definitely see him being a petty and jealous significant other (gn reader if can please) thank youu <3

A Tiny Bit Of Jealousy {Mu Qing}

A/n: thank you for requesting and I hope you like the outcome. I just wanted to say that a) I am lowkey loving this coloured layout since the photo is for the tgcf manhua and b) I am still three books in tgcf so I am incredibly sorry if this isn't an indepth writing or if his character isn't fully accurate

Pairing: Mu Qing x gn!reader

Trigger warnings: jealousy

You never realised how and when you got in a relationship with Mu Qing and there had been times when you couldn't help but wonder and question the circumstances under which the relationship came to exist. Not in a bad way of course, never in a bad way. But when originally you thought Mu Qing was just not ready to open up to you yet, as the months and years passed by, you realised that he wasn't hiding anything from you.

It was on odd feeling, being with him. After meeting Xie Lian and Hua Cheng and witnessing some parts of their relationship you could say with great certainty that he wasn't as open with you as those two were with each other. He wasn't neglecting you but he wasn't all touchy either. He was just there and if you happened to want cuddles or kisses, you would have to ask.

On that note, he wasn't bad at picking up signs, especially when it came to you. He knew your reactions -he could predict them even-, your likes, your dislikes, your routine. He knew everything because you were open with him. And it went without saying that when it came to you, Mu Qing was an excellent listener. He could sit down and listen to you mumble about the latest gossip in the Heavenly Realm for hours. Did he care? No. But you were the one talking so he would listen to you even if his ears somehow disappear.

Naturally, he also knew every single one of your friends in the Heavenly Realm; and the ones you didn't like that much.

And god he was jealous.

He was jealous of a very few selected people but not in the toxic way. He would never try and get you away from them since he knew that their and your intentions were pure but he couldn't help but envy the fact that they could give you something he thought he couldn't: a good and fun time.

In his mind, Mu Qing thought he was boring you and perhaps that was the only thing he had never been honest with you about. He could never easily laugh, express his feelings without being asked and most of the time he was a little too focused on his work.

And then the day he begged and prayed not to come actually came. He saw you laughing with another god. Now, on the surface there was nothing wrong with it. He had seen you laugh at something another god or goddess had said a million times and it never bothered him.

But this god was Feng Xin.

"Hey!" Your melodic voice echoed around the room as you walked through the pink silk curtains. You didn't have to ask, it was as clear as day that there was something wrong with him. And you didn't have to ask what was wrong either since when the two of you started dating you made a silent agreement: Mu Qing would always tell you in his own time what was wrong.

"Hello." He responded gruffly.

"I just came to check in since I have to do some paperwork." You walked up to him and placed a soft kiss on his cheek; a kiss to which he didn't react. "Oh! Feng Xin-"

"Don't ever say that name again!"

His tone was harsh and angry but he didn't raise his voice. Him pulling away was enough to realise that most probably you had said something wrong.

"We'll talk later," was all you said and walked away.

Mu Qing sighed and sat back down at the soft pillow on the floor, closing his eyes. You hadn't done anything wrong, that small part of his brain that could think clearly said so. Laughing and talking with Feng Xin was okay. Not once had Mu Qing thought about controlling you and he would rather die than do it. But it felt like a betrayal of some kind. You knew about his bad relationship with Feng Xin so why on earth did you have to bring him up?

Though if he had to be completely honest with himself... it wasn't the fact that he and Feng Xin were practically enemies that made him angry. It was the fact that not once had he made you laugh like that. He wanted to hear that unique sound he had never heard before once again with all his heart but he didn't want it if he wasn't the one causing it. What good was a partner who didn't make you laugh with all your heart?

"I am sorry," he whispered. He had gathered the courage and later that day, at night to be precise, he had walked all the way to your palace just to apologise. You didn't deserve someone who was as petty as him and he knew it but he needed you.

"I know," you whispered back and took that one step, closing the distance between the two of you with a hug. "You always say things you don't mean when you're angry."

In an ideal world, he would have preferred it if you didn't comment on it. But you did and the truth hurt a little but he deserved it.

Gently, he wrapped his arms around you and placed a soft kiss on your temple. "Should I make up for it? What did that bastard want?"

"You know... I am pretty sure that if I tell you, you'll get angry again."

#mu qing x reader #mu qing tgcf x reader #heaven official's blessing mu qing x reader #heaven official's blessing x reader #tgcf x reader #tgcf #mu qing #writing #anime and manga #anime #manhua

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aquagirl1978 · 7 months ago

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💐 Harri fluff pretty 🙏 please with strawberry milk on top

(Have you considered that one can probably taste the strawberry milk after kissing harri? *sighs as I stare wistfully into the distance*)

Love <3 V

Thank you @vioisgoinginsane - I had a lot of fun writing this and hope you enjoy it!

To Catch a Thief

A/N: The first fic in my Naughty or Nice event and my second entry for An Invitation to Crown hosted by @judejazza Pairing: Harrison Gray x Reader Prompt: play fighting Word Count: 730 Tags: fluff

“I have a problem and I was hoping you could help me,” Harrison said, plopping into the seat next to you on the couch.

“Good morning to you, too,” you replied, not looking up from the book you were reading.

“Morning,” he muttered as he ran his hair through his hair. He leaned a bit closer to you, dropping his voice. “I’m trying to catch a thief and I could use your help.”

“Oh?” You put your book to the side and stared into his mint green eyes, suddenly intrigued.

“Yeah,” he continued, “I went to the kitchen just now, looking forward to drinking my strawberry milk. And could you believe it, but there was none left. Someone here drank the last glass, knowing that that was my milk.”

“The nerve of them!” You gasped dramatically at his predicament. “Whatever shall we do?”

“I have a list of suspects.” You raised a brow, curious to know who made the list. “Will loves strawberries, so he would be a prime suspect –”

“Except he’s not here now,” you chimed in.

“Exactly. You’re very observant. Alfons isn’t back yet either, so he’s off the list.”

“What about Jude?”

“While he’s rude enough to commit such a crime, he’s not a fan of milk. I think we can safely cross him off the list.”

“Victor?”

“Nah, he’s more of a tea and scones guy for breakfast. Elbert probably hasn’t left his room since last night, admiring all his stuff.” Harrison sighed, truly perplexed. “That leaves Roger, Liam and Ellis.”

“Ellis does like sweets.”

“Another excellent observation. He’s possibly our prime subject right now.”

“I’m glad we were able to sort that out.” You smiled smugly at Harrison, pleased you were able to help him.

“Yeah, well, there’s another problem. Ellis isn’t here either. Some kind of early morning emergency that Victor assigned to him.”

“So then it has to be Liam or Roger.”

“That would seem to be, but there is one other possibility we haven’t explored.” Your eyes widened when he said your name.

“Was it you?” he asked softly. “I won’t be mad if it was.”

“No,” you replied, perhaps a bit too quickly. “It wasn’t me. I wouldn’t do such a thing to you. You’re my boyfriend. I love and adore you and know just how much you like your strawberry milk.” You flashed him the sweetest smile as you rested your hand on his knee.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t drink my milk,” he replied with an even sweeter smile.

“It wasn’t me,” you repeated.

“Of course, it wasn’t. I was silly to even question you.” He cupped your cheek and caressed your skin softly with his thumb. “I think you deserve a reward for helping me.”

He leaned closer, his lips barely brushing yours. “Is this a suitable reward?” he whispered. Your breath hitched as he covered your mouth with his in a kiss. Running his fingers through your hair, he held you closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue probing your lips. With a soft sigh, your lips parted, inviting his tongue to sweep your mouth.

He pulled back, breaking the kiss, his hand cradling your head. His eyes met yours and he smiled.

“I knew it was you the whole time,” he admitted quietly.

“What? How?”

“I had my suspicions, but you should know better than to lie to a fox.” Your face fell; he saw through your earlier lie. “That and…” He brought his mouth to yours and nipped your lip. “I could taste the strawberry milk.”

“That was evil.” You grabbed a nearby pillow and hit him on the shoulder with it. Gently.

“It's what you deserve for drinking my milk,” he said, laughing. Grabbing a pillow of his own, he swatted you back. Not so gently.

Peals of laughter filled the room as you took turns hitting each other with the pillows. That is, until Harrison grabbed your pillow and tossed it to the side, leaving you defenseless. He pressed his body against yours, his lips dangerously close to yours. Your eyes drifted shut as your lips moved closer to his, eager for his kiss.

His hand ran down your ribs, his fingers brushing against your most ticklish spot. Your eyes flew open.

“You wouldn’t,” you hissed.

“Well, I am a villain,” he said with a wicked laugh.

Tagging: @redheadkittys @themiscarnival @coral-relevium @cyberk1ee @kookie-my-little-sunshine @pathogenic @ellisgivesmelife013 @ikemen-writer @nightghoul381 @judejazza @xbalayage @xenokiryu @alydra @drachonia @ranhanabi777 @silver-dahlia @lunaaka @ikesenwritings @starlitmanor-network

#naughty or nice #invitation2crowncc #ikemen series #ikemen villains #ikevil #harrison gray #ikevil harrison #ikemen fanfic #ikevil fanfic #otome #otome games #otome fanfic #starlitmanor-network

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