#the shirt is actually too big for me unfortunately so i think what I'm going to do is either use it as a lounge shirt or make it into a bag

[identityquest]

check out the shirt i got for my birthday :)

[reiderwriter]

Okay but, flirty reader majority pointed at Reid, and the scene where he has to get hosed down and says "I'mma bout to get naked, I don't think you wanna see that" and reader's just like raising her hand and says "don't worry I'll stay". And after she walks out to go to the hospital and sees everyone and with an open mouth and wide eyes just goes " woah" cause big dick energy

A/N: Hi, thank you so much for your request! I've been a bit sick lately, so I haven't had a chance to write much, but this was fun and quick to write! I might do a part 2 with the actual smut in the future, so if that's something people would want let me know in the comments!!

Warnings: suggestive content, public dirty talk?

“I really want to see that.” 

You heard the words but weren't sure where they'd come from for the longest time. It had been a confusing morning, with a high alert for anthrax and your coworker trapping himself inside a contaminated lab to save you from dying a presumably very painful death, you couldn't be blamed for not realizing that you'd said the words in question. 

He'd meant the words sarcastically, of course, and they'd warned Morgan off immediately with a chuckle and a “You better survive this, kid,” but you'd stood rooted to the earth until he'd repeated them again. 

“Y/N, they're going to strip me down. You don't want to see that.” 

“I really do, though.” Your eyes unabashedly trailed down the contours of his body, soaked from the hoses currently decontaminating him. You could've sworn that he was moving in slow motion as his hand pushed back his hair and cleared his face of water. 

If there weren't this many CDC agents around, you'd have likely joined him in his impromptu shower to feel your way along the lines of his clothing, checking to see what was outline and what was the thick layers of shirt and pants that unfortunately still obstructed your view. 

Another minute of you ogling him went by before your eyes finally returned to anywhere near his, and you realized that your desire for the man could no longer pass for camaraderie. 

“You better not die, Spencer. Not before I can enjoy the meal I'm about to sample.” 

His doctors were either ignoring the conversation completely or were busy focusing on other things, and luckily, they didn't react to your words. Other than to take Spencer's temperature one more time when he flushed bright red, and stared at you slack-jawed. 

“We're going to have to speed this along, Doctor Reid. Please start unbuttoning your shirt,” one of the hazmatted men said to him, but his eyes were fixed on you. 

“Yes, please do, Spencer. It's for your own good. And mine.” 

You expected him to blush and fawn again, but his day had been as long and confusing as your own, so you were unsurprised when he looked you directly in the eye and began unbuttoning his shirt. You watched his descent, and your breath faltered, seeing the water drip down his bare skin now. 

“I'm not sure which of us is wetter right now,” you tried to joke in earnest, but you felt a sharp jolt of lust in your gut as soon as his hands reached his belt. 

“Y/N, you need to leave now. Before you make this any harder for everyone here.” The innuendo in his words were clear, but you were thankful again for the considerate and/or oblivious doctors either side of him bagging up his discarded shirt and jacket. 

“Only if you promise I can make your life as hard as I want to when you're in the clear.” You smiled again, hoping the full force of your lust would reach him. Spencer was always oblivious to genuine flirtation, you'd observed enough women throwing themselves on him (had discouraged a few too many with a hand on his arm and a finger playing with the abandoned curls at the back of his neck, too) to know that for sure. 

You needed to make your need for him explicit. 

“I mean it, Spencer. I really mean it.” 

His eyes locked with yours for the last time ad you made to turn around, doing your best to convince him without becoming distractedly horny. 

“I know. I'll see you at the hospital.” 

“At the hospital? Risky, I like it.” You winked and turned away, leaving him calling back after you as you walked over to the car Derek had pulled around the front of the property. 

“Wait, not the hospital! Those beds aren’t comfortable. Y/N! Y/N, really!” 

You giggled as you sat down in the car, but you bubbled with anticipation still. 

[woso-dreamzzz]

Wolfsburg

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Wolfsburg vs Bayern

"If we keep our heads down," Magda mutters," We can pretend that she's not with us."

"Magda!"

You're walking ahead of your parents, practically skipping as you wear an old Wolfsburg Harder jersey. It's much too big for you so Pernille had to tuck it into your shorts this morning when you refused to wear anything else.

This match was all you'd been talking about for weeks, ever since you'd seen the fixture schedule for this month.

Even if you loved the Bayern jersey because it had red, it did not supersede your deep love for Wolfsburg.

It was slightly embarrassing and Magda stubbornly kept her head down as she headed out to inspect the pitch.

"Do my eyes deceive me," A voice that you used to be very familiar with says," Or is that the future of Wolfsburg?"

You grin. "Alex!"

Magda watches as Popp picks you up, spinning you around as Pajor appears over Pernille's shoulder.

"She's grown."

"Kids do that," Pernille laughs.

"She still supporting the right German club?"

"Unfortunately," Magda mutters.

"What position are we talking? We need to start training her up young."

"Goalkeeper," Pernille answers," Zećira's been training her for a while now."

Pajor laughs. "Then I'm sure she'll be great when she grows up."

Your hysterical giggle echo around the pitch as Popp turns you upside down and shakes you.

You stick by the Wolfsburg girls all throughout the pitch inspection and Magda has to actually drag you away when it's time to go in to change.

"I'm going to play for Wolfsburg one day," You tell Momma when she walks you out for warmups," Like you did."

Momma gently strokes the hair out of your face. "And I'm sure you will. Now, remember, you may support Wolfsburg but we're still Bayern so you can't celebrate too hard if they score a few goals, alright?"

You huff but agree.

Scottish Sam and Georgia laugh uncontrollably when you join them on the bench, happy in your Wolfsburg green.

"Don't be too sad when Wolfsburg loses," Georgia teases, ruffling your hair.

You shrug. "It's okay if they lose now," You say," Because when I play for them, they won't."

"Wow," Georgia says," Someone's sure of herself."

"I'm going to be really good," You reply earnestly, brows drawn together as if to stress how much you want this," Because Zećira is taking a lot of time to teach me and I don't want to let her down."

Georgia's face softens a fraction. "I think you're going to make her and your mums very proud."

You smile.

Georgia's right. Wolfsburg lose to Bayern but you're still in a good mood because it means Morsa and Momma are happy.

You let them both give you celebratory kisses but escape pretty quickly to see Alex and Ewa.

Ewa picks you up instantly, holding you on her hip as she and Alex speak with one of the Wolfsburg girls that joined after you and Momma left for England.

"I hear," Alex says," That you've started to collect jerseys."

You nod. "I got a Keira Walsh one at the world cup and I've got a Leah Williamson one on my wall."

"Wow," Ewa says," Have you got any more?"

"I do! My Tia Tana sent me ones for everyone on her team! And Daan gave me a Lyon one when I last saw her! Daan used to play for Arsenal before she moved to France, which is how I know her. I like Arsenal almost as much as I like Wolfsburg!"

Ewa laughs. "Good. Keep it that way. Wolfsburg's got to stay on top, right?"

"Uh-huh!"

Alex grins at you. "You know," She says, lowering her voice like she's telling you a secret," Pernille's jersey is kind of old."

You look down at it, tugging on the collar. "It's from when Momma used to play with you."

"I know," Alex says," How about we get you a new one?"

She grins at you and pulls her own shirt up and over her head.

"Really?"

"Come on, take it. I'll see you in it next time we meet, agreed?"

"Agreed!"

[munson-blurbs]

Happy Saturday! If you’re still taking requests for the 2k celebration, could I request Eddie/mall/lingerie? And happy 2k followers, definitely well deserved!

It's the return of perv!best friend!Eddie, y'all. Hold on tight.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), creampie, pet names, public sex (no one around tho), barely any foreplay because I'm lazy, friends to lovers

WC: 1.6k

--

Shopping with Eddie is like pulling teeth. First, you have to convince him to actually come to the mall with you. Then you have to continually bribe with treats from the food court just to keep him from driving off without you. Today, he’s snacking on a giant cinnamon pretzel from Auntie Anne’s and slurping on a root beer.

“Remind me why I need to be here again?” he whines as you compare two denim miniskirts that look identical to him, but apparently, you can spot a difference. He takes another bite of pretzel and sighs indignantly.

“Because,” you explain, exasperation evident in your tone, “I need a man’s opinion on what to wear for my date tonight, and you’re the closest thing I have.” You laugh as he playfully shoves you. “And I needed a ride, so…”

“So, basically, you’re just using me for my male gaze and my car, huh?” he asks, running a hand over a neatly folded pile of shirts on display.

“Pretty much.” you chirp, putting both skirts back on the rack. “Ugh, this is hopeless! I’m never gonna find something.” You blow out a big breath, puffing your cheeks. “One more store and then we can go home, I promise.”

Eddie rolls his eyes but dutifully follows behind you, taking the opportunity to check out the way your shorts perfectly hug your ass. He feels a twitch in his pants as your hips sway back and forth, and he wills himself to look away.

Unfortunately, in his pursuit to keep himself from popping a boner in the middle of the Starcourt Mall, his gaze lands on the entrance to a lingerie boutique. The mannequin out in front is adorned with a red lace teddy that leaves nothing to the imagination. His eyes dart back to you, and all he can think about is you wearing it. But not for your date with whatever schmuck you’re going out with tonight; no, Eddie wants you to wear it for him. In his bed, straddling his waist, grinding on his–

“Shit,” he mutters. He thinks his voice is low enough to keep you from hearing, but he cringes as you swivel around to see what the problem is, catching him trying to discreetly adjust himself over his jeans.

“You okay–oh,” you giggle, taking notice of his predicament. “Careful, Casanova; y’might wanna pick your jaw off the floor.” You put your forearm on his shoulder and rest your chin on top of it, making him tense up even more. “Who are you picturing in that? Chrissy Cunningham? Tammy Thompson?” Before he can answer, you press on. “Ooh, or maybe a supermodel, like Cindy Crawford or Iman? C’mon, who is it?”

“What if I was picturing you?” Eddie tries to play off his words teasingly, but the raw lust blowing out his pupils gives him away. 

Biting your lower lip, you can taste the gloss you’d applied earlier. Every time Eddie jokes with you like this, pretending he wants you, it kills you inside. “Do you think I should try it on?” You look at him innocently, batting your eyelashes as you call his bluff. “Y’know, for Kyle tonight?”

At the mention of your date’s name, Eddie shrugs your arm off of him. “No,” he growls, hooking a ringed finger through your belt loop, “want you to try it on for me.” There’s no hiding his hardness now, and you can feel his heart beating faster as he draws closer to you. He swallows thickly, waiting for your response. 

You’re too stunned to speak. Eddie has always been a flirt, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a crush on him, but he’s your best friend. There’s no way he seriously wants to see you in lingerie, right?

“O-Okay,” you manage, turning towards the store. Eddie intertwines his pinky with yours as though ensuring he won’t lose sight of you. You find the teddy in your size and bring it into the dressing room. To Eddie’s dismay, you yank the velvet curtain closed. He tilts his head slightly, trying to find a gap wide enough to get a glimpse of you changing. He can just imagine you shimmying out of your clothes and into the sheer lingerie. 

Fuck it. 

Careful not to expose you to a customer passing by, Eddie slips into the room, resting his hands on your waist as you examine yourself in the mirror. The lace clings to your body, hugging your curves in all the right ways. You can feel his hard length pressed up against the back of your naked thigh. 

“Eddie,” you breathe out, trying to ignore the fluttering below your belly, “what are you doing?”

“Tell me something, princess,” he says, purposefully ignoring your question, “I pictured you putting this on, but who did you picture taking it off?” He waits for what seems like an eternity, silently praying that Kyle’s name doesn’t pass through your lips.

You turn to face him, letting his strong hands fall below the curve of your ass. “You, Eddie. Always you.” As soon as you give your answer, Eddie’s mouth crashes onto yours. He brings one palm to cup your cheek while he kisses you hungrily, moaning lightly with each flicker of his tongue against yours. He guides you to the wall, palming your breasts through the minimal covering.

Eddie nudges his knee between your thighs, brushing against your sensitive sex, and you moan involuntarily. “Oh, baby,” he coos, chuckling at your reaction to his touch, “so needy, aren’t we? I bet you’re already soaking wet. Almost pathetic how desperate you are f’me, huh?” You want to fire back with a witty retort about how he was the one who wanted you in lingerie; he barged into the dressing room while you were changing, but you can’t string words together to form a sentence. Instead, you nod dumbly, making him laugh again. “Don’t worry; I’ll tell you a little secret.” He nibbles at your earlobe before whispering, “This isn’t the first time I’ve thought about your sexy little body in one of these. Not even the first time today, actually.” 

With that, your fingers fly to his belt, unbuckling it as deftly as you can, and tug his pants and boxers down his thighs. His throbbing cock thwacks against his torso, leaving a pre-cum stain on his shirt. He hisses at the sudden relief, using his own fluids as lube to pump himself. You start to get onto your knees, but he stops you.

“If you put your mouth on me, ‘m never gonna last,” he warns with a smirk. “That’ll be for next time, yeah?” The promise of a next time excites you even more, and you allow him to hoist you up against the wall, pushing aside the lace as he runs his cock along your slick folds. “Y’ready?” His eyes are wide; though he wants nothing more than to be inside you, but only if you want to. When you nod, his smile exposes his soft dimples. “Thas’ my girl.” 

My girl my girl my girl. The words swirl through your brain as Eddie pushes his mushroom tip into you. The stretch is a mixture of pleasure and pain, melting into only the former as he slowly ruts up into you, allowing you to take a bit more of him each time.

Eddie’s never had sex this good before. You dig your fingernails into his back as your pussy clenches around him; he feels himself growing even harder inside you. He grabs the plush of your ass as he quickens his pace, hitting your sweet spot with each thrust.

“Goddamn,” he groans, nearly whimpering as you tug on his hair. “Your body was meant for me, baby. Takin’ me so well, like you were made for my cock.” 

“I was m-made for you,” you echo, feeling your body tremble with delight. “Eddie, Eddie, oh, fuck, Eddie!” You lean your head back, exposing your throat and giving him the perfect angle to suck a bruise just above your collarbone.

Eddie chants your name, burying his head into the crook of your neck as he leaves more hickeys. “Can’t hold back much longer,” he confesses, trailing his tongue over the fresh set of love bites, but he keeps the same rhythm that’s driving you wild. “Wanna get my princess off before I do, though.”

“K-Keep going until you c-cum, please,” you beg him, “just like that.” You bring your middle finger down to your clit, rubbing deliberate circles until you feel your orgasm wash over you. “Yes, Eddie. I’m cumming, cumming for you…feel s’good.”

Bucking his hips harder and chasing his release, Eddie is a panting mess. “Shit–gonna cum, gonna cum in-inside you, fuck.” His hot seed coats your walls as he cries out your name one last time. He gently pulls out of you, leaving cum dripping down your leg while you struggle to regain your balance.

“Looks like we ruined it,” he offers, motioning to the lingerie. There’s tears along the crotch where he roughly moved the fabric, and the mixture of your releases is starting to leave a stain. He tears off the price tag and crumples it, tossing it to the floor. “Put your clothes on over it, hmm? It’ll be our little secret.” He pauses, giving you a mischievous smirk. “Unless you wanna tell Kyle tonight?”

You shake your head. “No. No Kyle. Only you.” Honestly, you’d forgotten all about your date until Eddie just reminded you. “Gonna cancel so we can do…that again.” And hopefully again and again and again.

Eddie throws his arm around you. “Oh, sweetheart,” he laughs, “now that I’ve got you, we’re not stopping until that little number is completely destroyed.”

--

[honeygrahambitch]

"I want to introduce you to Will Graham."

It was the sixth time Will was hearing that phrase from Jack. To say that he was regretting attending the FBI congress was an understatement.

His social battery was below zero and his facial muscles were hurting from forcing smiles to all the strangers who were all bombing him with dry compliments and uncomfortable questions.

How did you catch Hobbs?

Is it true that the Ripper has a soft spot for you?

Is it easy to do your job?

He managed to excuse himself to the bathroom and to leave the hotel lobby where everyone was drinking and having small chats. He was not sure where he was heading but at that point everything else sounded better.

He went down a corridor. Turned left. Turned right. Left again. His phone buzzed. Jack was texting him to ask if he was sick. The thought of being completely honest about his thoughts regarding the event was very tasty.

"No, I was just thinking of going outside for a few minutes. I will be back soon."

As he was walking and texting he realized he had no idea where he was anymore. He walked into what looked like another great hall, like the one where the conference was. Had he walked in circles? Was he back again?

He walked in and looked for a few well-known faces. Hanging out with Beverly was definitely a better idea than hanging out with Jack. She was better at reading all his subtle cues.

He grabbed his phone again thinking about sending her a text. As his gaze was focused on the screen of his phone, he suddenly bumped into someone's back.

"Sorry-" he started but then relief was all over his face.

"Will, what a wonderful coincidence." Hannibal greeted him.

He was holding a glass of champagne, wearing a dark navy blue suit. His tie was only slightly darker and his hair was impeccable just like the usual.

However, Hannibal's surprise was even bigger. Bumping into Will was an occurrence that he had fantasized about many times before. Bumping into Will wearing a non-plaid shirt was the ideal dream. All his attention was now on the only man in the world who could read him like a book.

"Yeah, it's good to see a well-known face. Are you here for the FBI congress too?" Will asked a bit confused. Why didn't he know Hannibal was going to be there too?

"The FBI congress?" Hannibal asked and nodded towards a big banner that stated The Annual Congress of Psychiatry and Mental health.

It was them when Will realized he was in fact in a different hall.

"I must have got lost while..."

"Running from Jack Crawford?"

Will laughed. "Actually, yes. Sorry, you were probably in the middle of a conversation."

"Not at all." Hannibal replied. "You are the most important person in the room."

"Yeah, sure." Will replied to Hannibal's charming antics.

"No, I'm serious. I mean, you are definitely the most important to me but this is a psychiatry congress, Will. If any of my colleagues recognize you, you will start running again."

Will looked around and felt like a mouse in a cat shelter.

"Is that Chilton?"

"Unfortunately so. Let's go out, shall we, dearest?"

"Definitely." Will said and allowed Hannibal to guide him outside. Hannibal's hand made his way to the small of his back, as if he was reassuring him that no one would bother him while he was there.

The cold outside felt like a second wave of relief. As his phone buzzed again he saw Beverly's name pop up on the screen

"Jack is losing his shit. Where are you?"

"Can you distract him for a while? Please?"

"I will introduce him to the candy bar. But you owe me one."

Will rolled his eyes and put his phone back in to the pocket of his pants.

"Is Jack worried about your whereabouts?" Hannibal asked as they walked down a cobblestone alley which went through the labyrinth garden of the hotel.

"Yeah, worried that he can't show everyone his precious unicorn."

"What were the chances of you running into another congress where you still are considered the precious unicorn?"

"Turns out the chances were not small enough. What are you do-?"

"It's cold." Hannibal said as he took off his suit jacket and put it on Will's shoulders.

"No, keep it on."

"I definitely had more alcohol than you did, it keeps me warm."

"I was never able to tell."

"It's definitely necessary. Especially when Chilton is invited."

"Don't act like you don't enjoy this kind of congresses, doctor. You love the spotlight. Minus doctor Chilton."

"I do." Hannibal said, an amused smile on his thin lips. Will was looking through him just like one would flip the pages of a book.

"I will be fine. You should probably go back to your peers."

"I spent the whole weekend with them. I am more than happy to take a break with you."

"Should we pick it up from where we left if last week then?" Will suddenly asked as he discreetly looked around them. Judging by the silence, they were probably the only people in the whole maze.

"You mean before Jack called?"

"Why is that such a frequent occurrence?"

"Because you allow it, mylimasis." Hannibal replied and stopped, putting himself in front of Will. "Where were we?"

"Your hands were right here." Will said as he grabbed them and put them on his hips. "And you were telling me...what were you telling me?" Will teased.

"How I genuinely believe there is no being on this earth who equals your beauty." Hannibal said and leaned in for a kiss which Will dodged.

"And what else was there?"

"Then I said that even God must perish in jealousy because of how much I adore you, my beautiful deity."

Will nodded. "Why are you feeding my ego?"

"It needs to be fed too, my dear." Hannibal said as he managed to steal a kiss. "No part of you will stay hungry while I'm here."

"Keep talking." Will said and tried to banish the voice in his head that was calling him a spoiled kid.

"People build altars and churches to show their devotion to God. They believe that their endless buildings mean something. They don't know what true worshipping is."

"And you do?" Will asked as he allowed himself to lean in and kiss Hannibal. His touch was soft but the way he bit his lower lip until blood came out made Hannibal yearn for more.

"I can show you at home." Hannibal said instantly and grabbed Will's hand. He was going to find the way out of there, he would put Will in his car and they would leave that place behind.

And at home, he would give Will all the adoration he deserves.

[simonisferal]

not you again "scaramouche x male reader"

episode two — a man can't punch another man without it seeming homosexual nowadays, can he? 📖

warnings: violence, vulgar language, threats, homophobia?, food play if you think about it, (some) sexual tension/implications

notes: your hand slipped :( 1.3k words

The courtyard was often crowded with students, some eating lunch or studying during their breaks or some skipping their classes and horsing around.

You were waiting on Tartaglia who said he'd be there and cancelled his afternoon wrestling practice to be there. It was terrifying how he managed to remember everything but chemistry-related things. Your food was also getting cold with every passing minute you didn't see a ginger.

Your phone lit up multiple times and you chose to ignore it. No way someone was actually talking about you behind your back, right? Maybe after you tweeted that but no way, right? You sigh, maybe you shouldn't do irrational things now that you're a senior...

Your chin meets your palm as your elbow presses against the wooden bench's warm table.

Ajax wasn't coming any time soon so why not eat? You lift up a spoonful of food to your lips, opening your mouth slightly to eat it.

But, it never happened. Instead it fell onto the grass. And you felt a slap to your face.

(Scaramouche wasn't one for violence. He'd rather mentally or psychologically torture his opponents as they either move away with their parents or just grovel under his feet to get away from his constant degrading. But that never happened with you.

You didn't beg for his any of his attention like his usual fans and admirers, you could barely admit he was attractive! Not like he cared but seeing someone's eyes not on him... it kinda hurt.

But, it's fine! Nothing a little rivalry couldn't fix, right?)

You freeze, feeling the hot sting on your cheek burn by the second. That shadow that managed to hover over you was unfortunately familiar. He can't seem to leave you alone huh?

Your fingers carefully glaze against your cheek, brushing against and past the red mark Scaramouche had clearly left on your face. Your day was going so well too... You look up at him from sitting on the bench as he leaned on the table, as if looking for your reaction. He had a smirk painted on his lips that you couldn't wait to wipe off his face.

You only realized that yes, he did just slap you purposefully, and yes, other people are watching. I'm rational, you tell yourself.

"And who are you?"

His smirk widened and you swore he was actually a bitch. You noticed the little crowd forming around you two, students standing up from their seats to watch, others coming close to you to hear the conversation, and even some of them began filming. You didn't ignore Scaramouche's quick glance to the crowd, like he was waiting to act out a little performance.

He looked back at you, confidently. "You know who I am. Don't be dumb Y/N." He was somewhat joking. He already thought you were dumb. You loathed him.

"Yeah, sure, anyways! To what do I owe the pleasure? You know, besides already being subjected to your little torture methods?" You glare. Your food had begin to lose its warmth as you ignored it, sitting like a holy grail right in front of you.

You weren't cracking like he thought would happen. You always manage to be a few steps ahead, not any long stride but tiny, small tip-toes around his theories and plans. But not this time. Not under his watch.

"No, I'm actually starving!" He pouts like a child and leans even closer. He eyes your food carefully, a bowl of spaghetti with some red 40 as tomato sauce. "Do you think you'd give me some?"

Before you can even respond to his ridiculous request, Scaramouche is already a step ahead of you. Gripping his hands around the pasta, he smears it on your face, leaving a big stain on your shirt and tomato sauce everywhere.

The people watching let out laughs and silent gasps as they watch everything unfold. To say you were pissed was an understatement. To add fuel to the fire, you watch as he drags his finger across your face to get some sauce on his finger and lick it off clean right in front of you. The smirk on his face said it all.

"Not bad. Not bad at all." You weren't really sure what the fuck he was talking about but it seemed like someone else didn't either as you heard students watching move aside to let someone pass. Tartaglia.

"Scara, what the fuck are you doing?! Get your nasty hands off him." Ajax pushed him away from you, his bigger frame protecting you from Scaramouche's. Yanfei comes up from behind you, handing you napkins to clean the sauce off your face.

Even teachers began watching but it's not like they were gonna do anything. One reason you hated Scaramouche so badly was because his mother managed to scare anyone who got into her son's way, including adults. It was unfair, especially to the people who work hard!

Scaramouche smirked, standing up straight from the bench to see Tartaglia eye to eye. "Aww, is the little fa—"

Ajax stops him before he finishes that word. It wasn't necessarily a secret, most people already knew he had a boyfriend but using it as a insult is just fucking rude. "Don't you fucking dare."

"And why not, Ajax? Scared your little boyfriend'll hide his tail in between his legs and scurry? I sure would." Scaramouche crossed his arms. Tartaglia paused, attempting to calm himself down but to no avail. His fist ball up and Yanfei tries rubbing his shoulder in sympathy.

It was scary honestly. Seeing someone so happy and easy-going as Tartaglia so mad and anxious. You didn't ignore the way his hands trembled nor the way his eyes had began teary. If Yanfei had taught you anything about this school was that playing fair never works. You have to get your hands dirty.

You stand up from the bench, gently rubbing Tartaglia's shoulder. You lean into his ear and whisper, "Let me handle this, okay? I got it from here." He didn't bother looking up at you when you signaled Yanfei to take him away carefully.

She did so, glancing back at you as she and Ajax walked further into the crowd and away from Scaramouche.

You still had some sauce on your face, wiping it off of your face with your thumb and balling your fist. He noticed this. "What's wrong? Cat got yo—"

As usual, being interrupted for the plot! You don't hesitate to just fucking punch his ugly ass face before he finished whatever metaphor, idiom, onomatopoeia thing he had going on.

The crowd surrounds you two as they start chanting to fight. Scaramouche recoils back, holding his nose in his hand as velvet blood ran down his hand and dripped down on to the grass. "Bitch," he muttered, wiping his nose and ignoring the pain.

"You're gonna pay for that."

Like he mentioned previously, you are indeed not paying for that. Some blue-haired girl, Xingqui, and some teachers had to pull you off of Scaramouche as you pinned him to the ground. "Fucking asshole!" You attempt to land another punch but miss as you get dragged away from the bastard you were plotting to kill.

Everyone groaned as you got dragged away (probably to the principal's office for causing a ruckus), sad that there wasn't anything entertaining to watch anymore.

Mona and Kazuha ran up to Scaramouche who was lying on the grass, nose broken and maybe some ribs and his throat bruised. "You idiot! What were you thinking?!"

Scaramouche closes his eyes and sighs. "Shut it. I need a favor." As the crowd disperse back to their original duties, Kazuha raises an eyebrow. "What for?"

"I... need new pants."

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(@simonisferal 2024)

[onsunnyside]

here's one of the prompts from this ask: presenting... camboy!Rafe

After yet another falling out with Ward, Rafe had to find some other way to make quick cash. He didn't expect to keep this virtual career going for over a year, growing to love the flattery and attention as much as his real-life hookups.

You're Sarah's best friend, a fellow kook-turned-pogue, and spent more time at the Cameron house than your own. This summer, Rafe travels back home from college and gets a little careless, so used to his private dorm where he didn't need to stifle any moans or dirty talk.

It's a late night by the pool, music plays from Kie's speaker and empty beer bottles litter the patio. John B and Sarah are cuddled by the stairs, chatting with Pope as JJ does his umpteenth cannonball, splashing you and Kie as you lounge on floaties.

Unfortunately, it's your turn to get more snacks and drinks. You begrudgingly trek through the big house, already a little inebriated. You gather chips, popcorn and beer on the shiny island counter before a loud noise catches your attention. Curiosity gets the better of you and you follow those strange noises and find yourself in front of Ward's office, the door just barely cracked open.

Rafe sits in his father's chair, pristine white shirt unbuttoned with a light sheen of sweat on his chest. Your eyes drift to his arm, the sleeves rolled up and muscles tense under his tanned skin. He murmurs something under his breath and you creep closer, trying to make out his words.

"Hm, is that so? You think you deserve my cock?" His pink lips stretch into a smug smirk, "you're gonna have to bend over my desk and show me where you want it."

The angle blocks his lower half, but you don't need to see it to know what he's doing—the jerking motions of his arm, the hitches in his breaths, and his blue gaze locked on the screen before him.

"If you beg real nice, I'll let you taste my cum. Shoot my load on your pretty face and claim you, maybe I'll even take a few pictures." Rafe groans heavily, his arm speeding up, "is that want you want? You wanna be daddy's little cumrag?"

For the next few days, you avoid him like the plague, but that's hard to do when it's his damn house. Every time he comes around, you slip away, muttering an excuse about going home or doing an errand. Sarah is the only one partly concerned since you were never at Rafe's throat like the rest of the Pogues.

Your luck had to run out at some point: he corners you at a kegger, you should've known he'd show up at the Boneyard with the rest of his friends.

"I've been back for a month and you haven't said more than three words to me."

You grip the solo cup tightly, nervously peering up at him, "hi, Rafe, how are you?"

He laughs, shaking his head. His new buzzcut makes him appear more rugged and confident. Ugh, he never used to make you weak in the knees, but now you're having trouble standing upright—hopefully, it's just the alcohol.

"I'd be better if you didn't look at me like I'm covered in blood. C'mon, you're Sarah's only friend that I can actually tolerate." He rolls his eyes, "don't tell me they turned you against me in a couple of months?"

me thinks... one thing leads to another and you're making out against his truck, your dress hiked up to your thighs as he hooks your knees around his hips. You pull away for a breath and his hand wraps around your throat, his wet lips trailing down to your jaw: "Is it bad that I want to get caught right now just to see the look on JJ's face?"

At the mention of your friends, you snap out of it and shove him away. Guilty and ashamed, you can't imagine what Sarah would think about you hooking up with her brother, and the rest of the Pogues definitely wouldn't be happy about it either.

You leave the party early and once again, avoid Rafe, going as far as faking sick when Sarah invites you over.

fast forward to the filthy stuff: don't even get me started on you starring in his cam shows. Rafe is all too eager to show his viewers every inch of you, how pretty you moan, how you melt with just the slighest of touches.

He's such a tease: he grinds his hard cock along your clothed cunt, showing his fans just how needy you get, "look at that, she's soaking her panties," he chuckles, reading the rush of comments on the laptop screen, "Yeah, she's gonna ruin them tonight—maybe we'll have a little fun and send them to the highest tipper. How's that sound, baby? You want a stranger owning your messy panties?"

He's obsessed with cum shots: he’ll cum on your pretty, tear-stained face or one of your used holes, "open wider for daddy." And of course, you obey, blinking up at him with his seed on your cheeks and lips. He leans down and spits, spreading his saliva and cum on your tongue, "such a good girl, you'd let me do anything to you, hm? You wanna show our fans how pretty you look right now?"

this au makes me very interested in Rafe's and reader's exhibitionist adventures 😳 ofc fooling around at the country club, mayhaps golf cart shenanigans, and definitely riding him in his truck... this will be a full fic 😌 or a collection of drabbles !! we'll see hehe

[hauntedestheart]

Borrowing From His Roommate (Male Bodyswap)

"Oh, sweet, my new shirt came!" Kamil exclaimed. "What do you think?"

Sagar glanced up from his book and looked over at the shirt his roommate was holding- a ridiculous thing made of blue lace that he wouldn't be caught dead in. He winced.

"It's very..." Sagar eyed the blue thing dispassionately- as a rather simple guy, he'd never understand his roommate's fashion sense. "Ostentatious?"

"You're just too straight to see the vision," Kamil rolled his eyes, and Sagar scoffed. "This is gonna look great."

Kamil held the shirt up in front of his body, twisting side to side as he pretended to model the garment, and Sagar's eyebrow raised. The shirt was clearly several sizes too large- his twinky friend was already dwarfed by it and he hadn't even put it on yet.

"Isn't that way too big?" He asked. "You'll be swimming in that."

"Oh yeah," Kamil gave Sagar a wink. "Switcheroo!"

Sagar blinked and found himself staring at his own face. Glancing down, he saw two slender hands clutching a blue shirt, and a second later his own body snatched it away from him.

"I should never have let you talk me into trying that body swapping spell with you," Sagar groaned, twisting to stretch his back as he tried to acclimated to his newer, more slender form.

Kamil, in Sagar's body, wasted no time stripping off the t-shirt Sagar had put on earlier and slipping on the new top instead. The blue top was perfectly fitted to Sagar's form, though Kamil left several of the top buttons undone so the shirt hung loosely open and to reveal the light dusting of hair on Sagar's chest- which was somewhat pointless as the barely there lace that made of the rest of the shirt was see through put the rest of his borrowed musculature on easy display. Preening, he shook his body in a little dance just so how off how good he looked.

"See? I told you it would fit," Kamil said triumphantly, ignoring the unimpressed look Sagar gave him in response. "Anyways, sorry Sagar, I'm gonna have to borrow the body today."

"Borrow the body today" was, unfortunately, not an uncommon phrase in the Sagar/Kamil household. Weeks ago, a friend had returned from an overseas trip with a souvenir book full of "magic spells" and Sagar had been stupid enough to agree to try one with his roommate Kamil- he'd only done it to shut his friends up, he hadn't considered the possibility that it would actually work!

The spell had exchanged their bodies and Sagar had found the experience incredibly disorienting- Kamil was much shorter and skinnier than him and being so slender reminded him of being a kid again. Kamil, on the other hand, had gotten a lot more enjoyment out of the swap. Sagar was built like a tank, and Kamil was thrilled to be the one behind the wheel of such a powerful vehicle.

"Holy shit Sagar, I can touch the ceiling!" "Holy shit Sagar, I've got chest hair!" "Holy shit Sagar, I can lift the couch by myself!" "Holy shit Sagar, how do you walk with this thing?"

The spell had worn off after a few hours (though Sagar had not been able to prevent Kamil from locking himself in the bathroom for most of it) but it could be reactivated any time one of them said "Switcheroo..." something Kamil took full advantage of.

The twink looked for any excuse to swap with Sagar and enjoy the fruits of being, as he so lovingly put it, "a hunk," and in a weird sort of way Sagar had grown used to it. The two of them had been friends since they were very young so despite everything, Sagar still trusted his friend.

Mostly.

"So what is it this time?" Sagar sighed and rubbed a hand down his baby smooth face- Kamil had never been able to grow any facial hair. He knew by this point that it was better not to argue with his roommate, so he might as well just figure out what he was in for.

"I'm going out to see this guy and he's expecting this face," Kamil ran a finger over his new lantern jawline, then did a jaunty little dance side to side, rocking Sagar's hips like they'd never been rocked before. "Well, really this body, since that's what most of the pictures have been of."

"Did you catfish someone?" Sagar frowned disapprovingly. Borrowing his body without asking was one thing, but Sagar didn't like the idea of Kamil leading someone on.

"It's not catfishing if I show up looking like the photos!" Kamil protested, placing his hands and heaving his mighty chest for emphasis. "I promised him he'd get to play with these muscle tits and I'm delivering. Besides, the first thing this dude asked for was pictures so he wouldn't be talking to me if he didn't like what he saw."

"If this guy is only interested in my body, is he really worth your time?" Sagar questioned, and Kamil just shrugged and resumed groping Sagar's body. Sagar shook his head and sighed at how shallow his friend could be sometimes. "And delete any photos you have of my body by the way, I don't want those out there."

"You're right," Kamil agreed, his eyes still fixated on Sagar's body. He poked at his bicep "We're due for some updated shots- hey, have you been working out?"

Kamil grabbed a random object from nearby and began pumping it like a weight, admiring the way that the workout made his toned biceps flex. The sleeves of Kamil's new shirt grew tight as hard muscle strained against them, but Kamil didn't mind. He wanted it that way.

"Yeah, I have." Sagar puffed his (Kamil's?) chest up slightly- despite the circumstances, he was enjoying the opportunity to see the hard work he put into his body from another angle.

"Well it's nice," Kamil grinned, his famously charming smile looking incredible with Sagar's handsome face. "Keep up the good work buddy. Been hitting the squats too?"

Kamil leaned down into a lunge, twisting his hips as he experimented with moving Sagar's colossal ass around. The tight black pants Sagar had thrown on that morning clung to his thighs and really emphasized the round globes of his backside, and Sagar took advantage of the rare chance to observe his body from the outside and examined his own ass for a moment- his routine was hitting right it seemed. He'd have to do something about those pants though, he hadn't realized how tight they were.

"You know this spell only lasts a few hours," Sagar pointed out, interrupting his friend's stretching routine. "How are you going to cram a whole date into that period?"

Kamil leaned down and tweaked his own nose. "It's so cute that you think we're going to go on a date."

Sagar groaned and covered his eyes. "Kamil, not another hookup!"

"Yes another hookup!" Kamil sang. He spanked his ass a few times, playing the cheeks like bongo drums, and the little thwacks echoed through the garden. "You should be thanking me Sagar, if I wasn't taking this thing out for a spin every now and then it would be covered in cobwebs."

"I don't see why you can't do these dates in your own body," Sagar whined, and he gestured up and down at Kamil's slender form. "You're a handsome guy Kamil! Any guy would be lucky to get a chance with you, you don't have to hide behind my face."

"Aw, Sagar, that's so sweet of you to say," Kamil smiled, but then he shook his head and drew Sagar's body up to its full height and grabbed a handful of his crotch. "But no, this isn't an insecurity thing. This is a 'I feel like demolishing someone's ass tonight and your piledriver dick is more up for the task' kind of thing."

Sagar was about to argue, but then he just sighed and picked his book back up again. He supposed he saw the logic in what Kamil was saying- he could read just as well in any body, but his friend needed a body like Sagar's for his hookup.

"Okay, one date," Sagar agreed, and watched a huge smile break out over his own face. "And you use a condom, and you agree to wash all my dishes for this month."

"Thank you thank you thank you!" Kamil squealed, blowing Sagar a little kiss. Sagar rolled his eyes, but smiled. "And I'll tell you what, after this, I'll let you borrow this shirt whenever you want."

Sagar glanced up from his book and looked his body up and down- honestly, the shirt looked good on him. He winced, loath to admit that Kamil was wearing his body better than he had been.

"I might take you up on that."

[shadowsageingempress]

Tierlist of the Great Sea costumes from Hyrule Warriors.

I plan on doing more for the other costumes from the rest of the Adventure Mode maps.

(Costumes and explanations below the cut. There's a lot to go over, so it'll be long)

They probably couldn't make Warriors' costume based on Toon Link because it would likely be too similar to the Skyloft outfit, so they went with the crayfish pajamas. And I gotta say, I really like it. The blue shirt, white scarf, orange pants and gray boots go really well together.

I don't know why they made Impa wear pink. Maybe they were trying to reference the King of Red Lions? I'm not sure. But I do think it works pretty well for her.

I only just realized that Sheik's costume is colored that way as a reference to Tetra. That makes me like it a bit more. These colors are very striking, but they look good on her in my opinion.

Lana's costume is apparently based off the koroks, which I don't know if it matches up well with her. But the outfit looks really nice. My only complaint is that I don't know if the green hair fits her, so I've deducted points for that. Otherwise, she looks pretty cute and festive.

Of course, they gave Valor the princess dress that Tetra wears for the latter half of the game. The color of the dress is fine, but the dull armor and too bright hair kind of ruin it for me. Also, my partner is PISSED that this costume isn't based on Tetra. I think that would look substantially cooler, even if Sheik's costume would make it redundant.

I don't know who decided to make Ganondorf's costume fuck so goddamn much, but I am so glad they did! Everything about this Phantom Ganon costume is incredible. It kind of gives me Metroid Prime vibes, which is a very good thing.

Darunia's Phantom Hourglass goron costume isn't too big of a change, especially when compared to the masterpiece that was Ganondorf's. I don't really care for the brown spikes, but the stomach tattoo looks pretty cool.

The Laruto costume that Ruto has is very striking, and I think it works very well. Between the color combination and the character reference, I like it quite a bit.

I'm not sure why they decided to make Agitha a goth with this costume, but I think it suits her. Unfortunately, the way her face paint looks kind of lessens my fondness for it. But I definitely don't hate it.

Midna is already my favorite character in this game, so I was probably going to like whatever costume she had. But this Floormaster-inspired look is incredible! The changes are pretty slight, but the pink markings and the darker color of the Fused Shadow adds so much to what was already peak character design. In fact, she probably could have been on the top of S Tier if they'd leaned a bit more into it.

I don't know if Zant's costume is based on Gohdan or Jabun. Neither of those options really fit him, in fact they're kind of the opposite, and it may seem a bit weird to give him such bright colors. However, I actually like how he looks in this costume, even if it does look a bit more regal than he deserves.

Given that Fi's design was partially based on the Fairy Queen, this costume was only natural. And I'd describe it in the same way. This coloration is perfect for Fi, and the purple ribbon-markings down her legs are a nice touch.

Kalle Demos is one of my favorite Zelda bosses from a strictly aesthetic view. So it only makes sense that they were the base for one as, shall we say, colorful as Ghirahim. I love the gradients on his suit and cape, and I only recently noticed the green gem on his belt.

Like with Agitha, I don't really get the reference in Cia's costume. But I will not deny that she looks really good in that dark red, especially with the sunset colors of her shoulder cape. I do think that her hatless outfit is the best looking of the three, though.

Volga's costume is another with a subtle change. But like Midna's, I think that this one looks really good. The colors look good, and the reference to Valoo is quite fitting.

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said about Wizzro. I think his costume is based off of Jalhalla, which could have worked. But I really don't like the brown.

I'm already conflicted about how I feel about the design of Midna's true form, or 'Twili Midna' as she's called in Hyrule Warriors (I don't get why), and this costume only adds to it. I don't know what the reference was here. And while I don't hate the color combination they used, I don't think it works with her. It's really a shame.

Also, why did they change the color of her skin here?

I have a lot of questions about Young Link's costume. What is the costume supposed to be? Why is he purple? Why does he have red hair? I don't hate this costume, but it doesn't make much sense to me.

This may be surprising, but I actually kind of like how Tingle looks in this costume. The gray and blue work well together, and I like the reference to Ankel or Knuckel. It's good.

Given what costume they gave to Warriors, I think it makes sense that Linkle's is based off of Aryll's dress. Not only do the colors work, but I like the little flower designs on the tunic. It's adorable.

Oh, Hell yes! I love Skull kid's costume. Not only do the white and purple go well together, but they look perfect when put with the colorful Majora's mask. I think it's also based on the poes, which also works. I can't think of anything I would improve with this one.

Another Link, another set of crayfish pajamas. I don't know why he has a belt, but it doesn't take too much away from the appeal. It's just a solid design. Although, if they did this one twice, then maybe they could have made Valor's costume look more like Tetra

Speaking of Tetra, her costume is also pretty cool. I think it's cool how the colors of her jacket and bandana are swapped. My only complaint is that I don't really care for the striped shirt. But I guess it helps to get the reference to Niko across. I like this one, even if my partner doesn't get why she needs a Great Sea costume

Finally, we have King Daphnes. I really don't know who or what his costume is based on. But I also don't hate it. The bright colors are very striking and mesh decently well together. It actually kind of reminds me of a movie I saw when I was a kid.

[pollymorgan]

Coach Negan Part 2

Warnings: Negan beeing Negan, hot table sex

Okay, I did it again! Have fun with the second part! 🤭

When I wake up, I briefly think I had a pretty intense dream. But when I see the phone lying next to me on the pillow, I realize that unfortunately, it was real.

Oh man, I've started some pretty weird actions lately. Somehow, my life seems to have gone a little off track. But phone sex with my daughter's hated gym teacher pretty much tops it all.

At least I didn't oversleep, not even once this week! Who knows, maybe I'll still be "Mother of the Year."

Feeling a bit off-kilter, I shuffle to the bathroom to freshen up.

With the toothbrush in hand, I let my thoughts wander. Okay, the whole phone call was a bit sexy. Well, actually, pretty hot. My cheeks start to flush as I think about Negan's voice and how dominant he was.

Damn, the whole thing was more erotic than anything I've experienced in the last 5 years. At least! Although that's not saying much....

Suddenly Negan's last words come to mind.

"Okay, I'll expect you tomorrow at 3:30 pm for a parent-teacher meeting at the school, and without panties.. Good night!"

Fuck! My ex-husband is picking up the kids today. At least, that's the last I heard. From experience, I can say that can change at any time. Anyway, I absolutely must not run into Negan at this time, preferably never again. But that will probably be a bit difficult...

The morning goes by thankfully without any major catastrophes. A few arguments, two forgotten homework assignments, and spilled milk later, I've dropped off my three kids at kindergarten and school on time.

Feeling somewhat relieved, I return home. There's chaos in every room, but it's quiet in the house. After calmly drinking a coffee, I decide it's really time to start filling my social media channel with content again. After all, it's become my job, albeit somewhat involuntarily. I'll make a post about a nutritious, quick meal for stressed out mothers. At least I don't have to go shopping again. I have all the necessary ingredients in the fridge, and it's not too time-consuming.

Just as I'm preparing everything, my phone vibrates. Assuming it's a message from my ex, canceling the meeting with his kids for some flimsy reason, I open the message annoyed.

"Be on time today, otherwise it's detention! 😉 Negan."

Oh God, I had hoped this whole thing would just fizzle out. Feeling a bit nervous, I set the phone aside and try to focus on what I actually had planned. But that's not so easy! I keep staring at my phone, afraid of receiving the next text or out of desire? I can't even define it myself.

Screw it! I was married for 19 years and I've based my whole life on this man. Taken care of the kids and the household and always put myself last. Only to be left. So, what's wrong with having a bit of fun?

I quickly grab my phone and reply.

"Just detention? 😯 I expected a more creative punishment! 🙈"

I hesitate for a moment, but then I send the text. My heart pounds wildly in my chest as I see the two checkmarks next to the message. It only takes a few seconds before I receive a reply.

"You naughty girl, don't challenge me ...".

I can't help but grin.

Quickly I type, "As they say, 'Good girls go to heaven, bad girls go on the teacher's desk' or something like that ...😉"

"I can't wait ... Room 319, in the big gymnasium," I receive as a reply.

I look at the clock. It's just after 12 pm. I quickly finish my Instagram post to have enough time to get ready.

After a thorough shower, I stand somewhat desperate in front of my closet. I absolutely must not show up too sexy at Peggy's school. But my obligatory gray jeans and a plain t-shirt that has been my wardrobe staple lately won't do either.

I'm as excited as before a first date, and in a very strange way, that's what it is.

In the depths of my closet, I find a royal blue knee-length pencil skirt and a matching white blouse with large dots in the same color, with the price tag still attached. I put it on and critically examine myself in the mirror. I've always been slim, but the impending divorce has cost me at least another five kilos.

I loosely tie up my hair and apply light makeup. Then I put on my favorite scent, a mix of vanilla and cherry that I've worn far too rarely lately, afraid the bottle might run out.

Now there's no time for doubts. Determined, I go to the car, start the engine, take a quick look in the rearview mirror to remove mascara smudges under my eyes, and head towards the school.

There are only a few students left on the grounds. Most have already finished, just like my daughter. Thankfully! He actually managed to pick her up. Miracles do happen after all!

I have the terrible feeling that everyone is watching me and knows exactly what I'm up to, although that's obviously nonsense.

Feeling a bit nervous and with a pretty strong flutter in my stomach, I go to the big gymnasium. Disoriented, I roam the narrow corridors and then stop in front of room 319. Okay, so I'm really going to go through with this.

The door isn't closed, just ajar. I take a deep breath and then push it open further. Negan is sitting at the desk, focused, with some papers in hand, and suddenly startles. As he catches sight of me, he begins to grin, his perfect teeth shining through.

Oh man, has he always looked so damn good? He's wearing a khaki jacket over his jeans shirt and glasses with a dark rim. Determinedly, he stands up and walks directly towards me, while I remain rooted to the spot, staring at him.

He stops right in front of me and leans against the door frame with one arm. I have to look up at him because he easily towers over me. The woody, masculine scent of his cologne envelops me and literally clouds my senses.

"Never heard of knocking?" he smiles at me and then lightly licks his lower lip with his tongue.

Finally, I find my words again. "Well, I seem to be a really naughty girl, but at least I'm on time...".

Dramatically, he looks at his golden wristwatch. "Right on time..." he states curtly and gestures for me to come in, before immediately locking the door. At the sound of the lock, my heart gives another heavy thump.

So, I'm really here now.

I quickly glance around the room, feeling his eyes on me the whole time.

"Sit down!" he commands and goes back to his desk. Just as I'm about to take a seat on one of the two chairs in front of it, he protests.

"No, here..." He taps the table clearly and sits on his chair, never taking his eyes off me. After a brief hesitation, I sit down, as ordered, directly opposite him on the table, crossing my legs. As confidently as possible, I look down at him. When our eyes meet, small electric shocks run through my entire body, seemingly converging in my lower abdomen. His gaze continues to roam over my body, to my legs and back up. We remain silent for a moment, but then he breaks the silence with the sentence, "And did you remember not to wear any panties?".

My cheeks blush even more intensely, I have to swallow hard before I can respond. "Yes."

"Okay, then show me..."

Slightly confused, I try to think. This man hasn't even touched me, let alone kissed me yet, and I'm supposed to present my most intimate parts on a desk to him?

"Come on, don't be shy..." he adds demandingly, noticing my hesitation.

As if on command, I jump off the table in one go, pulling up my tight skirt until it barely covers my butt. I then brace myself on the desk with both hands, ready to jump up and slightly spread my legs in front of him. Negan leans further forward and stares unabashedly at me. He grasps my knees to open my legs a little more.

It's the first time I feel his warm hands on my bare skin.

"And shaved just for me, that wasn't necessary..." he states, satisfied and self-assured.

His hands slowly continue to my thighs, then he lightly rests on them and positions himself directly between my legs. His face is only a few centimeters away from mine, and I feel his breath just as heavy as mine. I examine every pore and every small scar thoroughly until my gaze falls on his lips. Without thinking further, my arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to me.

Finally, our lips meet. The kiss is immediately wild and without any restraint. Full of desire, our lips press against each other, and our tongues immediately explore each other.

All I can think about is how good all of this - how good he - feels.

Negan firmly grips my butt with both hands and dominantly pushes my pelvis closer to him. The fabric of his jeans presses against my bare skin. I feel how hard and big he already is. I can clearly feel him, right at the spot that yearns for him the most. I softly moan into the kiss.

"Damn, that's the sound I wanted to hear! I haven't been able to think of anything else since last night..." he exclaims excitedly.

Then he swiftly takes off his jacket and starts to slowly unbutton my blouse. My black lace bra is revealed. Before he kisses me again, he looks down at me.

"Fuck, look at you...you're so incredibly beautiful," he says softly.

My hands move confidently to his pants, feeling for his belt.

"Not so fast...first, I want to taste you...every damn inch of your perfect body!"

He grins at me, and I immediately do nothing but eagerly wait to see what he has in store next.

Negan slowly takes off my unbuttoned blouse and skillfully unclasps my bra. He immediately grasps my breasts firmly with his large, warm hands and plants delicate kisses on my sternum. His beard scratches against my delicate skin, giving me goosebumps. His mouth moves to my right breast, and I let my head fall back. I thoroughly enjoy the feeling of his tongue on my sensitive nipple. His hand firmly grips my left shoulder and pushes me down. Now I'm completely lying on the desk, while his kisses travel deeper and deeper.

Without hesitation, he grabs my knees and presses my legs firmly against my body. Then I feel his warm breath on my wet vulva. Automatically, I press my pelvis further towards him, and he starts kissing along my inner thighs, while I eagerly await feeling his lips on my pulsating clitoris finally.

My whole body is tense as he continues to tease me, his mouth gently returning to my thigh.

Impatiently, I slide back and forth on the desk.

He releases his firm grip from my knees and gives me a light slap on the butt.

"Damn, it's sexy how turned on you are... I could continue like this all day..." he remarks with a grin, unbuttoning his jeans shirt as his dark chest hair is revealed. I prop myself up on my forearms, looking at him expectantly.

"Okay, okay... Who can resist such a look and such a sweet pussy..." he says, leaning back between my legs to finally touch me where I need it the most.

Skillfully, his tongue wanders to my most sensitive spots, applying just the right pressure and perfect tempo.

I moan in relief and lean back again. He softly sucks on my swollen clit, and my legs start to tremble. I grab his hair and hold onto it tightly because I feel like I need that support. The orgasm hits me unexpectedly. I never thought I could reach the peak so quickly.

Negan grabs my wrists and swiftly pulls my upper body back up. Breathing heavily and utterly exhausted, I look at him, and he smiles contentedly, his lips moistened with my wetness.

"Wow, okay..." he says.

"Wow, okay..." I reply and pull him closer to kiss him.

"Now I want to fuck that perfect pussy..." he whispers in a deep voice into my ear, opening his pants with one hand. Then he briefly separates from me to open the drawer of his desk and retrieve a condom.

I watch him, and suddenly I seem to be able to think clearly again. At least, I can imagine how many times he has done this before. How many lonely, abandoned mothers he has already screwed on this desk, that he even keeps condoms in his drawer.

Without saying anything, he seems to notice my gaze very precisely and knows how to interpret it.

He grabs my chin between his index finger and thumb and turns my head decisively towards him.

"Hey, don't even think about it, okay? ...I only placed it there today, in the slight hope that you would seriously consider my nice offer..."

He lets me go to put on the condom without breaking eye contact.

My eyes wander between his dark ones, and I get lost in them.

I nod hesitantly and flinch slightly as I feel his tip pressing against my entrance.

Negan runs his thumb over my mouth. My lips feel dry and sensitive.

"Don't close your eyes now, look at me as I enter you..." he says unequivocally.

I already feel him slowly pushing deeper and deeper into me. When he is all the way in, he places his burning hot forehead against mine. His mouth is slightly open, and his breath is heavy. I enclose his lower lip with my lips. It is an incredibly intense feeling to be so full. I feel my lower abdomen contract repeatedly as he slowly starts moving inside me. It doesn't take long for his thrusts to become faster and harder. I realize he is close to coming.

"Sit on the chair, I want to be on top of you!" I say, trying to gain some control and at least once have the upper hand.

"Okay, whatever you want... really anything!" he says, breathing heavily, and sits back on the chair behind him.

He looks incredibly sexy. With those piercing eyes, his slightly swollen lips from the intense kisses, the unbuttoned shirt revealing his slim hairy chest, and his large hard penis that I immediately want inside me again.

I jump off the table and climb onto his lap. With my right hand, I grasp his pulsating cock and let him glide into me. Negan holds onto my hips, and I place my hands on his shoulders to support myself. Slowly, I begin to move, and he penetrates deeper into me.

"Damn, you're finding spots in me that I didn't even know..." I smile and then bite my lower lip in concentration. I mean it literally. I have never felt anything like this before. My movements become faster, and I feel the tension running through Negan's body.

"Let's come together..." I whisper softly to him.

"Okay, baby..." he says decisively, and his hand moves purposefully between my legs. Quickly and with quite a bit of pressure, he circles my hypersensitive clit with his thumb.

I feel like I can hardly breathe from excitement. My lower abdomen almost cramps painfully.

I manage to groan "Now..." just before another intense orgasm floods my body. But not only me, I also feel how Negan is coming intensely. Exhausted, I collapse on his lap. His arms embrace me and press me firmly against his bare chest. For a moment, all you can hear is our exhausted breathing, then he whispers softly while still deeply inside me.

"That was insane. When can we do this again?"

I grin at him contentedly. "I have the whole weekend free from the kids... so I'd be happy to do it again tomorrow..."

Then I kiss a bead of sweat off his forehead.

He pouts, "Why wait until tomorrow? ...How about tonight and then the whole night... Believe me, I want to explore a few other spots in you..."

[sunshinereddie]

so lots of people seemed to enjoy my firefighter eddie/paramedic richie au which is super fun for me, because it's also a fav of mine hehe...... and i just couldn't help but write a little something something about it.

this is not going to turn into a full fic, i see yall asking and i hear ya, however unfortunately i do not have the time or energy to start a whole new actual fic (sorry....), but i just couldn't stop thinking about these losers so i had to write a little thing for them<3 if anyone enjoys this maybe i'll use this au as writing practice/warmup and just make little ficlets about it lol.

anyways, firefighter eddie/paramedic richie drabble under the cut! (also it's been a long time since i last wrote reddie, and really have done any writing in general, so pls excuse & forgive me if my writing is a little rusty T^T)

Not to brag or anything, but Richie was a superhero.

Well, at least... that's what he told the kid in the ambulance.

The kid couldn't have been older than seven, crying so hard that his Spiderman pyjamas were wet with tears and snot from using his shirt to wipe his face. He was screaming so loud that Richie couldn't get a word in sideways, and even when he did speak, he doubted the kid could hear him.

Not that Richie could blame him, of course. After all, the kid had been woken up to his bedroom in flames, the sound of screaming in his house, and a stranger climbing in through his window to pull him out. Not to mention... he was still the only one who had gotten out so far. Hell, if Richie was in his shoes, he'd be screaming as well.

But Richie wasn't in his shoes. Richie was a paramedic, he was here to save lives- he had to be the strong one, and he was going to do everything in his power to help this kid. And judging by the Spiderman pyjamas the kid was wearing and the Batman plushie he'd been holding tightly onto when he was rescued, Richie had a pretty good idea of something that might help.

"Hey, kid, no need to cry!" he said, putting on a brave, confident voice. "I'm... Super Richie, and I'm here to save you!"

Just as Richie had hoped, his words caught the kid's attention just enough to stop the screaming, enough for him to look up at Richie through watery eyes. "You... are you a su-superhero?"

Richie nodded, placing his fists on his hips and puffing his chest out. "You bet I am! And guess what?" He turned slightly, stretching his arm out to gesture at the rest of the paramedics and the firefighters rushing around the scene. "They're all superheroes too!"

The kid sniffed, bringing a hand up to wipe his nose. "Really?"

Richie nodded. "Yup! We're all here to help you and your family, okay? But right now, I'm going to need you to help me as well, do you think you can do that?"

The kid was silent for a moment, thinking, before he sat up a little straighter, and Richie couldn't help but think that he was trying to mimic the superhero stance that Richie had taken. The kid nodded, and Richie smiled wider. "Awesome," he said. "Now, I'm going to ask you to take some big deep breaths for me, okay? Slow breath in, slow breath out- that's it! Okay, you keep doing that, and I'm just going to take a look at you and make sure that none of that nasty fire got to you, alright?"

With the kid having calmed down significantly, Richie got to work. He checked for burns or any other wounds, and thankfully found none. The kid had been extremely lucky to have gotten rescued quite early on, but Richie still thoroughly made sure that he hadn't suffered any injuries. As he was checking the kid's breathing, listening for any signs of difficulty due to smoke inhalation, the kid spoke up for the first time since he'd stopped crying.

"Are my mommy and daddy okay?"

Richie's heart sunk. The firefighter who had pulled the kid out had brought him to the ambulance furthest away from the fire- so he wouldn't be able to see his house going up in flames... or anybody getting pulled out. It had been a while since emergency services had arrived on the scene, and Richie didn't want to make any assumptions... but he'd been to his fair share of fires to know that there was a time limit to getting people out.

He was lost for words, not knowing how to respond to the kid without lying, without breaking his heart... but thankfully, he didn't have to. Because right then, a loud cry cut through the night, and Richie turned to see a man and a woman running and full speed towards them. Both of them were disheveled, their faces and clothes dark with ash and grime, the man's shirt practically burned off, but they were alive. They were being followed by Mike, one of Richie's fellow paramedics, who was politely urging them not to run, to please return to the ambulance, but neither the man nor woman seemed to be listening- they had their sights set on the kid in the ambulance, and they didn't slow until they had pushed past Richie and were holding their little boy in their arms.

Richie had basically been finished with his checkup, so he took a step back and allowed the family reunion. When Mike caught up to them, Richie gave him a look that said Give them a minute, and Mike nodded, standing by Richie has he caught his breath.

Richie was watching the woman check her son all over for any injuries, as if he wasn't currently sitting in an ambulance with a paramedic right there, when he heard footsteps approaching, and then the sound of someone clearing their throat. Then, there came a polite "Excuse me", and Richie's heart skipped a beat as he recognized the voice.

Everyone- the family, Richie, and Mike- turned around at the voice, to see one of the firefighters approaching them. He must have been on the crew that had gone into the house for the rescue, for his uniform was darkened from the fire, and he still wore the protective mask and helmet that covered his face. Richie was confused for a moment as to why he was here when, you know, there was a fire to be put out... until he held his arms out, and cradled in them was a small, ash-covered kitten- trembling, but meowing fiercely.

The little boy gasped and jumped out of the ambulance, running over to the firefighter and taking the cat from him. "You saved Mittens!" he exclaimed, as the cat immediately became more comfortable in his owner's arms, curling up and nuzzling its face against the boy's. The kid looked up at the firefighter, his eyes once again filled with tears, but this time, with a big smile on his face. "Thank you, superhero!"

The firefighter reached out and gave the kid a gentle clap on the shoulder, then stepped out of the way as Mike began to guide the family back to the other ambulance- leaving Richie and the firefighter standing there together.

Richie barely had the chance to open his mouth before the firefighter was ripping his helmet off and turning on Richie, sending him a glare so cold it could have single-handedly put out the fire.

"Not. A. Word," Eddie Kaspbrak snapped.

Richie raised an eyebrow, bringing his hand up to place it on his chest. "What ever do you mean?" he asked innocently.

"Don't play dumb, Tozier," Eddie replied.

"I'm not! I was just going to congratulate you on another life saved- I mean, just think about it- how many cats is that you've rescued throughout your career now? Ten? And this one you saved from an actual fire, not just from a tree or a rooftop! My, my, the city should give you an award for this."

Eddie glared at him, and Richie's grin grew larger. "I also pulled that kid from the house," he said, matter-of-factly.

"Isn't that your whole job, Mr. Fireman?"

"I swear, one day I'm going to-"

"Kaspbrak!" The booming voice came so quickly, so loudly, that it made both Richie and Eddie flinch, turning simultaneously to see the Fire Captain walking past a few feet behind them. "I sent you over here to get checked out, not to chat!" he barked. "Get to it!"

Eddie nodded as the Fire Captain walked past, all while mumbling something under his breath that Richie couldn't quite catch, but was sure wasn't anything nice. He crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head in question as he looked back at Eddie. "What was that about?" he asked.

Eddie refused to meet his eyes as he let out an irritated sigh. "Captain noticed that my... my air tank was broken when I came out of the fire," he said, his voice softer, though still distinctly annoyed. "Broken latch, or something- it wasn't secured. There's a good chance I was breathing in smoke the entire time I was in there."

At no point did Eddie ask for Richie's help, but Richie knew that Eddie would rather run back into a burning building than ask Richie for help, so Richie didn't wait. His smile remained on his face, though most of the smugness was replaced with the care he showed to all his patients, as he removed his plastic gloves to switch them out for a clean pair.

"Come on," he said, nodding towards the open ambulance doors. "Take a seat. Go on, Eds, doctor's orders."

"Don't call me that. And you're not a doctor."

"Ouch- spitting fire there, Eds. Not very heroic of you."

"Bite me."

[countrymusiclover]

1 - The Arrangement

Part 2

The Last Velaryon

Tag list @rise-my-angel @cdragons

When I was a child I wouldn't have believed you if you told me that one day I would find myself tangled in the claws of both a Lion and Wolf......

Monterys Velaryon, a name that every young child knew of our house before my grandparents died. He was declared the heir to Driftmark at only the age of six and got control of an entire fleet of ships and sea. The name doesn't truly live alive to this day...except for the fact that I exist as the only true born child. My father only was with one noble girl but she died giving birth to me.

But in this world women don't get any claim to a household

Walking through the castle hallways I was lost in my own thoughts about our current situation. It was declared that House Velaryon was to no longer have any high power when House Baratheon took the Iron Throne from the Targaryen.  So we had a small castle that was near the same sea that brushed up against Dragonstone that was also claimed by the Stag house too.

Footsteps came running down towards me when I stopped to peek out one of the windows. "! There you are. I went into your chambers but couldn't find you."

"You know I don't care about being stuck up in the same rooms all the time." I responded leaning my back against the wall responding to my lady in waiting who was also my best friend, Chezney Ally.

She became close to me since she had lost her mother at a later age then I did. Unfortunately I never got to know who she was. Chezney had dark brown hair pinned up into two braids while she wore a light blue dress to match our house colors. "You're not trapped here, ."

"Really. Let's think about this shall we." I tapped my chin with my index finger in thought. "I live in a castle that is only surrounded by sea and the only way I will ever be forced to never see this place again is if I wed off to some snob lord far far away."

Chezney sends me a raised brow. "Don't say that you could be wed to a young lord who is actually nice to you."

"Pfft I doubt that. But anyway, what were you wanting me for exactly?" I questioned my friend.

She clasped her hands together. "Since you're not busy with ridiculous lessons can we go swimming off the castle."

"Absolutely you know I love the thrill." I nodded in agreement where we both ran through the hallways. I wasn't wearing flat dress shoes like she was. I was wearing riding boots with a knee length sea blue tunic shirt that was big enough on me it looks like a dress.

Chezney swings opened the door that led to one of the boat docks that was just a little high above the water. She ran to the edge not caring about her clothes get wet when she hit down into the sea. "Come on, !" She cheered, pooping her head above water.

Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear I ran forward and hugged my knees to my chest. I hit the water and felt my hair that was in a braid slightly fall apart. "If I ever have a husband they better be fun or I'm running away." I swam up taking a breath once my head is out of water.

"And I'll come with you if they allow that." She replied, grinning at me.

Splashing some water playfully in her direction I laughed. "Of course I'll allow it and if they don't then I'll find a way to make them."

"Yeah I know you will. Uh oh they found us." Chezney splashed some water back at me looking over my shoulder and her smile dropped.

Turning around in the water I glared at the young guard my father had assigned to me for my protection since he was always busy with being Lord of the Tides. "What are you doing here, Antler!"

"You're wanted by the small council, My lady." He bowed with the wind catching his dark brown curly locks.

Shaking my head I grumbled. "What could they want with me? And tell whoever is asking that I am spending time with my friend."

"I don't think that will fair over with your father, Lady Haelesa ." Antler gulped in a slight nervous tone. "For he is the one asking for your presence at the time."

"I better go. Can't keep daddy waiting I suppose." I swam away and Chezney followed after me. We didn't bother changing into dry clothes since he clearly wanted to see me right this second.  Tying my boot laces back properly I sighed following Antler through the dark hallways. The castle was usually cold during nighttime but during the day the ocean wind wasn't unbearable. I honestly enjoyed the taste of sea more than most did and that's saying something since we're all raised to be able to handle sea life. The three of us finally halted outside a set of large double doors where Antler knocked three times signaling we were there.

The doors opened and I stepped inside seeing my father's lord advisors and him sitting around a circle table. The doors were shut behind me where I felt slightly nervous since Antler and Chezney were left outside in the hall. "Leave me alone to speak with my daughter now." My father Monterys declared getting to his feet.

"What did you want to talk to me about, father?" I questioned softly under my breath.

His eyes locked on mine. "It has come to my attention that our house is almost gone. Our heirs are either dying out or are Bastards by my only living son. That needs to change before we're gone forever."

"Change how?" I nervously asked him.

My father rounded the table and came to stand in front of me. He placed his hands on my shoulders before he spoke out. "It is past time you were wed, ."

"What...no." Immediately came from my mouth.

He lowers his gaze. "This isn't up for discussion, dear. It must happen to save our house and name."

"That's not right, father.  Something shouldn't just be done because it's been done for a thousand years and no one else has had the balls to change the tradition!" I snapped at my father in disbelief.

He drops his hands from my shoulders. "Watch your tone. You are my daughter and you will serve your house like your mother did before she died."

"If the only way I will ever see the rest of the world is through a ridiculous marriage then I have one condition. Chezney comes with me to whatever house you're sending me to for the rest of my life." I suggested to him with my hands on my hips.

The lord of the tides paused in thought watching me closely then finally replying. "Fine. I'll inform Lord Tywin of the response.....just remember where you come from my dear girl."

"The Old, the True, the Brave." I mumbled back to him when he started to walk away from me until I realized what he had said to me. "Wait a second you said Tywin Lannister?"

My father looked over his shoulder. "Yes I did. Tywin of House Lannister. You are to wed his eldest son Jaime. You will be sailed to Kings Landing and from there the wedding should take place within a fortnight."

"But isn't Jaime a member of the Kingsguard? He took the oath. He can't marry or bear children with anyone. He would be exactly like my brother." Listing off my fingers, this wasn't making sense anymore.

Lord Monterys moved back and sat down in his lord chair. He ran a hand over his chin in silence. I knew that he had a lot of weight on his shoulders and I was probably making it worse. Yet I had all the time in the world to read up on all the houses and history that we had gotten from Dragonstone. "Tywin has assured me that he was removed of his white cloak by King Robert Baratheon. The man who now seats the Iron Throne. So you shouldn't be worried about such matters. Now go back and start packing your leaving in a few days."

"Okay...I still love you father." Pausing in my step just beside the double doors I eyed my father in his chair figuring this would be the last time I saw him.

He sends me a grin. "I love you too, ."

The day for me to leave my family home had finally come to pass. The whole castle staff had been gathering supplies and getting the ship prepared that would go to King's Landing. Gazing out the window I just sat on the windowsill listening to the sea hit against the castle as best as I could. There was no guarantee that we would immediately go to Casterly Rock so this comforting sound needs to be my last memory of home. ", can I come in?" Chezney's voice broke me from the silence.

"It's open, Chez." I answered her, seeing her peak her head inside.

She shut the door with her foot behind her. "Antler sent me to inform you that everything is ready. We just need to get you dressed to go."

"I'm not wearing a tight dress on that boat. It doesn't matter if I'm marrying the wealthiest family in the seven kingdoms, I will be comfortable for as long as I can." I responded to my friend watching her go over to my chest of clothes and shoes searching around for what we could pick.

Sliding down from the seel my bare feet hit the wooden floor until I snagged my boots on. Tying the laces I stood upright. "Okay so let's do one of your brother's old tunics that he grew out of." Chezney draws out some dark blue trousers with a sea blue tunic.

"Can you do the braid your mother taught you?" I asked her to sit down at the window once I had changed my clothes for the trip.

She nodded beginning on the braid. "I heard some of the kitchen staff gossiping about the man you're to marry. They said that Jaime is supposed to be so handsome and the best swordsman in the kingdoms."

"Looks and sword skill aren't all that should define a person. From what I read about the Lannister's they throw gold at all their problems. It's the decisions that someone makes that matters." I rolled my eyes when she finished the braid, letting my silver-blonde hair over my right shoulder.

Chezney shakes her head. "Maybe you'll get lucky and you'll find your right person before your wedding." We clasped hands and left the castle with my father accompanying us on the journey. I don't really remember much of the trip. It was just a lot of sea and not many nights of proper sleep before we were woke to see a much warmer climate and a large populated city unlike what I was used to.

One of the Baratheon guards helped me out of the boat when we ported it to land. My gaze shifted around recognizing the certain king and his queen that was Jaime's twin sister Cersei. "Lady Velaryon, here I thought that your house was gone for good. And all the material with your name had been forged into weapons." Someone remarked in my direction where my gaze shifted across the crowd of people.

I finally stopped searching when I met a second pair of green eyes and blonde hair that fell almost down to his shoulders. And a sword attached to his hip. "Jaime Lannister, I presume."

"The one and only, my lady." He smirked at me smugly.

Putting one hand on my hip I flipped my hair out of my face, getting the sense that I was right about what I read about this family. "Well, be careful, Lannister. My house may not be as known as yours. But I may surprise you and everyone here." Jaime smirked still down at me before I took a bow in front of him and Chezney just quietly smiled at our interaction knowing this was not going to be an easy arrangement.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

NSFW Headcanons~ Sub!Zeke Tyler

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- I mentioned in my original set of headcanons that I think Zeke is a switch: whether he's dominant or submissive really just depends on the person and the situation. But, in this set of headcanons, we're going to focus on him being completely submissive in bed.

- You never know exactly what you're getting into whenever you spend time with him. Sometimes he's sweet, sometimes he's a brat, sometimes he's both at the same time. One minute he'll annoy the hell out of you: poke you, prod you, nip at, bite you, hide your things, doodle on your papers, etc. Then the next, he'll turn on all his charms: giving you his sweetest smiles and cutest faces; snuggling up to you like he wasn't just being the bane of your existence all because he wanted some attention. He acts so sweet that it's easy to forget how much of a little shit he was being.

- If you were anyone else, him pissing you off would segue into him acting like a cocky asshole and making you seem pathetic for giving in after being "so annoyed" with him. But you are you, so all of his attempts to rile you up are just him acting like a stereotypical brat. Zeke likes being put in his place so unfortunately for you, he makes a game out of pushing you over the edge and getting you to treat him roughly. Expect a big ol' smile on his face when you finally have enough and start hissing out threats or pushing him onto his bed.

- If he doesn't get you into his bed by being a brat, he does it by genuinely seducing you. It's in these moments where his dominant side comes in clutch; along with his general unabashed sluttiness. He likes to entice you, likes to act suggestively while making normal conversation or do non-erotic things with smoldering looks. Likes to stretch his back so that his shirt lifts and you can see that sliver of skin above his belt, likes to take your fingers into his mouth, to get on his knees in front of you, to lean in close, to whisper in your ear.

- "Tell me what you want me to do": he murmurs in your ear, nuzzling your jaw before he kisses down your neck, your chest, your stomach. He locks eyes with you as he presses another one to the little bow at the top of your underwear, taking your hands and putting them in his hair as he moves to be between your legs. His fingers trace along the skin of your thighs, tickling the flesh as he waits for you to tell him what he's allowed to do: if he's allowed to touch you where he wants to the most.

- As much as he likes to annoy and seduce you, he can't help but love it whenever you choose to make the first move. You actually manage to fluster him: make him stare at the floor or hide his face in his arms/some plush part of your body. When you tease him, he blushes and laughs nervously, occasionally fumbling over his replies or getting too distracted to answer you immediately/correctly. You wouldn't think that a person with direct access to loads of porn would still be grinning and rubbing his face bashfully at the sight of his girlfriends tits, yet there he is.

- He's definitely not a virgin but he sometimes likes to pretend to be; especially if he's teasing you for liking someone who's nerdy or prudish. He'll go from acting like it's one big joke to taking it so seriously that it makes your head spin.

"No, no, you have to be gentle with me! I'm untouched!" He cracks up, falling onto his back as you roll your eyes at him. You can see the look in his eyes shift as he finishes laughing, teasingly asking if he's 'not doing it right'. He licks his lips and wipes his grin away, locking eyes with you as he sits up and puts on the most innocent expression he can muster.

"Please," he whispers, voice bordering on whiney as his hand slides up your thigh, touch featherlight. "I've never done this before, I don't know what to do. You'll teach me what to do, right? Take care of me?"

- Empty classrooms and car sex. Sometimes he chooses it purely out of convenience, other times he chooses it because he wants to roleplay. If you're in a classroom, he wants to play teacher/tutor. If you're in his car, he wants to play police. Either way, he's getting off on the power play: the concept of you corrupting, seducing, and/or taking advantage of him.

- Good boy, bad boy, baby boy: he loves it all. He might not want to admit that that's what gets him going; at least at first, but it definitely is. Throw in a "poor baby" every now and again when he's acting extra whiney and he's done for.

- He likes being degraded and humiliated: being forced to beg or admit how much he loves whatever you're doing to him, being called a loser or a slut, being called pathetic or nasty for liking such taboo things. Call him stupid or say his brains don't matter because he's just a toy, and he'll lose it in the best way possible.

- Is he ashamed of his preferences? A little bit. Is that shame part of the fun? Absolutely. Like I said before: he's got a humiliation fetish; so being teased for his taboo "kinks" kind of gets him going. He likes hearing you mock him about what others would think if they "found out". But does he actually want them to know about it? Absolutely not. It's been a well kept secret of his and he'd like to keep it that way, even if the two of you toy around with the idea of it being revealed.

- But that doesn't mean that he doesn't like to dance on the brink of it. He likes when you act sexual with him in public, likes being seen as some kind of unabashed sex fiend/pervert. Kiss him passionately or rub on him in front of someone and he'll bite his lip when you separate, winking at the person in your presence when they accidentally meet his eyes. He's a nasty dog who likes to flaunt his owner.

- He also likes when you make him cum in his pants at the end of the school day. When he's forced to wear them out in public, his heart hammering in his chest and his cock still throbbing in the soaked mess of his underwear, shifting wetly with every step as he crosses the parking lot back to his car. No one would ever actually see anything, not with the bagginess of his clothes or the way that you're walking in front of him clutching his hand. But the feeling of his classmates seeing him in that state, the thought of them figuring out what you just did to him; what you always do to him, and the humiliation that would arise from it turns him on to no end.

- He likes when you hurt him; whether purposefully or not. Likes seeing the marks you leave behind: the angry scratches and the crescent-shaped cuts, the redness of his skin from where you hit him, the tender hickeys, the teeth marks, etc. Looking at them feels like he's looking at the evidence of your love. And feeling the lingering pain of them makes him want you to hurt him again.

- He likes the more fleeting and invisible pain as well: when you tug at his hair, grab him roughly by the face, squeeze your fingers around his throat, etc. It feels more dominating, more intimate. He's fully at your control and he genuinely loves it.

- Ownership kink. He loves hearing you refer to him as your property: saying that he's yours, that he belongs to you, etc. There's something incredibly comforting; and sexy, about having you want him so much that you actually claim him as yours: that you think of him as another one of your well-loved possessions. You once plucked a cigarette from his lips and told him not to "damage your things", and he honestly short circuited a little.

- Spitting kink. Doesn't matter if it's on his face, in his mouth, in his hand, or on his cock: he just has a thing for objectively gross and messy activities.

- He's a ...messy eater, so to speak. He likes to be completely covered in it whenever he goes down on you: a mix of cum and drool and all things nasty. He's eager to taste you and he's eager to please, humping the air/bed because it turns him on so much to be between your thighs.

- How the two of you have sex really just depends on the day. Sometimes you act more soft and loving: taking the time to comfort and treat him sweetly. And other times, you treat him roughly, pushing him around and flaunting your control over him. It usually depends on whether or not he was being a brat; or why he was being one in the first place.

- When you're being more soft with him, your roles tend to blur a little more: he's still submissive but you're less focused on making him submit to you, and more focused on pleasuring and showing how much you love each other.

- Stroke him from behind and he'll turn into putty in your hands. Pair that with some kisses down his neck, some hickeys on his shoulders, some dirty whispers in his ear, and a pointed nip to his skin, and he'll be trembling against you like a leaf. He loves having you cuddled up against him like that; and he also loves when his mind drifts to somewhere else and you surprise him with a hand around his throat.

- Whenever you give him a handjob, it's either comforting and slow or harsh and unrelenting; or it can be both at the same time. You'll start out being all sweet to him and then decide to be mean: keeping him steady as he writhes in your grasp, pleading and crying as you cruelly keep going.

- Zeke can get pretty vocal in bed; especially when he starts getting emotional and overwhelmed. He kind of chokes on his arousal: he begs, he whines, he gasps, he cries. Sometimes he lets out these broken sounding moans that make him sound so deliciously pathetic that you can't help but laugh; especially when he's trying to apologize for being such a brat. When he first slips inside you or when you do something particularly good to him, he'll whisper out a curse or let out a whimper that goes straight to your core. Overall, he's a pleasure to listen to.

- You making him cry for the first time was a come to Jesus moment for him. Having you coo at and comfort him, having you degrade him so sweetly while he let everything go: it had him wondering if he should go out and buy you a wedding ring. He lets everything out when he's with you: every tension, every worry, every need. You break him apart and put him back together. And no matter how pathetic he must look sitting there with tears running down his face, you look at him with so much love that he can't help but keep crying.

"Poor baby. You just can't think straight, can you? Can't handle it? Feels too good? Aren't you embarrassed? No, no you're not, because you know I love seeing you like this. My little mess. Don't worry, I'll take care of you."

- He either struggles to look you in your eyes or stares into them with zero shame; there is no in between. He'd love it if you made him look at you: biting his lips and whining as you grab him by his cheeks, panting heavily between his words as he answers whatever dirty questions you ask him.

- Making him watch/look at porn with you when you find it in his room; and not in the trunk of his car, or when you ask him to show you things that he wants you to do to him. Something about it makes him feel kind of shy, like he's a kid getting caught with a playboy magazine. So this is what you get off to: you comment, and he feels a surge of embarrassment course through his veins.

- Sometimes you won't touch him at all, and other times you'll slide a hand on his crotch whenever he least expects it. When he turns to look at you, you tell him to watch the tv. And though he tries really hard to follow your order, he almost always ends up staring at the side of your face, whimpering when you refuse to give him any other attention besides the touch of your hand.

- Making him look at himself in the mirror while you ruin him.

- Having him put on a show and jerk off in front of you; especially when he's being a brat and/or acting like he doesn't need you. He almost always hesitates, trying to decide if you're actually being serious as he swallows nervously. Depending on his mood, he's either shy or unabashed: slowly taking himself out while he stares at you or the floor, stroking himself while listening to you talk or trying to goad you into speaking when you don't give him anything to work with. He also likes when you make him perform for you because he was "acting like a whore".

- When he's being dominant, he likes to roleplay as a doctor. When he's being submissive, he likes having you roleplay as a surgeon; or a nurse if he's feeling less kinky. He shakes in anticipation when you order him to undress and lay down, shivering slightly as your hands run across his body, marking places with ink and tracing delicately across them with a scalpel. He doesn't want you to cut him, not really, he just likes the implication/the threat.

- One day, he'd left his gun laying out on the table and after he assured you that it wasn't loaded, you'd picked it up and let him teach you how to open the chamber and things of the like. Seeing for yourself that it wasn't loaded, you'd jokingly pointed it at him. And though he'd smiled back at you, there was something in his eyes that told you that "funny" wasn't exactly the word he'd use to describe the situation. You guess he really does like when you're in control....

- I've said it before, but Zeke is the type of person to get into an enemies with benefits situationship. He'd undoubtedly bully/tease you, which would make it all the more satisfying to finally be able to put him in his place during sex. He wouldn't admit to being submissive at first, but you'd soon catch on: smirking at the way he gives in after a fight for control or the way that he shuts up as soon as you get rough with him. You'd push him down and mock him for wanting you to be in charge, and though he'd tell you to shut up, he'd still be rushing to unbuckle his belt for you.

- You usually either ride him or let him be a service sub: ordering him around while you lay beneath him, clutching the back of his neck to pull him in and make him look at you. It makes him feel especially pathetic whenever you make him do all of the work: the way that he's forced to punish himself if you ever decided that you wanted to be mean.

- Making him bite the bottom of his shirt to keep it out of your way. Every now and again, he'll turn into a crying, drooling mess, so you'll tell him to make himself useful while you play with your things, pushing his shirt up his chest and holding it out for him to latch onto. You've also put your fingers in his mouth, making him kiss them in apology if he accidentally bites down on them/bites down on them too hard.

- Toys. He'll either blatantly ask you to use them on him or pretend as though he's selling them: depending on what they are and how embarrassed he is to be into them. Sometimes, you'll have to tease him and see what sticks, feeding into his fantasies so that he feels more comfortable to admit what he wants from you.

- I feel like he's into pegging. He's probably a little shy about it; due to the reputation and the connotations that it has, but the dirty and taboo nature of it turns him on. There's something so arousing about being fully owned by you: about having you all around and inside him, making him submit to you completely. Flip him around and make him tell you how much he wants it, make him call himself your bitch, make him admit that he loves it. He'll cum hands free while he bites and claws at the sheets.

"Look at big, bad Zeke bending over for me. If only the rest of the school could see you now."

- Jealous sex. He has a tendency to mock you whenever he feels insecure: putting on that faux wounded expression of his as he accuses you and/or insinuates things, acting like you're playing games when you insist that you don't know what he's talking about. Part of him is just lashing out, while another part of him is goading you into sleeping with him because it makes him feel "useful". If he gets you to have sex with him, he gets to remind you of how good he is in bed and how perfect the two of you are for each other. You'll forget all about whoever he's jealous of because you'll be too busy playing with him. Toxic but efficient; at least in his eyes.

"Isn't this better," he pants out between little moans, his brattiness partially gone, driven out by your undivided attention. "You think he'd let you do this to him?"

- He finds it amusing whenever you go from cruel dom to worried girlfriend, insisting that he drinks water or lets you inspect his injuries. He's not used to being vulnerable with people, but he likes cuddling with you and having you fuss over him: cleaning his cuts or holding something cold to wherever you hit/scratched him. He always looks at you like you're some kind of angel whenever you're focused on taking care of him, smiling and telling you that "it's nothing" when you catch him in the act. He blushes a little when you lean down to kiss and tease him, melting further into the bed while you continue to take care of him.

[moralesmilesanhourlibrary]

how long

summary: on a particularly hectic day, you find out Miles' secret by chance, years too late. originally posted: Nov. 30, 2019 a/n: I was still getting used to writing conflict here; It's a bit choppy, but I'm actually kinda proud of this one! You go 9th grade me! Note that Miles and the reader insert are adults at this point. Made some slight edits to like three words

Y/N slammed the door behind her and collapsed onto the couch, frustrated and exhausted. She'd probably treated hundreds of patients that day alone-or that's what it felt like. Miles would be back anytime now, judging by the footage on the news. 

Why didn't he tell her?

Y/N's phone buzzed.

'On my way,' the text message read. Y/N swallowed the growing lump in her throat.

She knew it was Miles the moment he spoke.

Some big green thing--folks called him Goblin--was wreaking havoc on the city like no one had ever seen. Spider-Man's silhouette became a blur as he swung from building to building and back, occasionally sprinting through the streets.

Y/N WAS on her lunch break, but not for long. Patients seemed to be streaming in, either from falling debris or various car accidents. Frankly, Y/N didn't feel particularly strongly about Spider-Man--she just wished he'd be a little more fucking careful.

Y/N's chest heaved as she ran back toward the hospital, shoes pounding on the pavement. Unfortunately, Spider-Man was swinging around in that same direction. A dark figure zipped past Y/N's shoulder, nearly knocking her down. 

When she spun around to identify the blur, the masked hero was still chasing after Goblin, yelling, "Sorry, ma'am!" as he left. Sucking in a breath, Y/N continued her trip back to the hospital, but felt like something was amiss. That voice. It was far too familiar.

It came to her after the battle had ended.

The Goblin fellow was webbed up, surrounded by wailing cop cars and news vans. Spider-Man had stopped to take a selfie with a couple of regular folks, then began retreating from the gathering crowd as Y/N looked on. He had a peculiar bounce in his stride that she'd recognize anywhere if she could put a finger on where she'd seen it before.

"We miss you over in Crown Heights, Spider-Man!"

"Miss me? I still live here!"

The epiphany came crashing down like hail. The cadence in his voice was unmistakable. Y/N's heart was in her throat as she started briskly back to her apartment, expecting answers.

Y/N jumped at the knock on the door. The elaborate rhythm of the knocking confirmed that it was Miles. Trying her hardest to maintain her composure, she opened the door.

As Miles stood in front of her, Y/N took a good look at him.

He was wearing the same grey sweatshirt and blue shirt he had on when he saw her off to work, but something was different. Miles had had the audacity to try and hide the suit beneath his clothes. 

Hesitantly, Miles asked, "Something wrong, Y/N? You've been standing there for a minute." In that moment, she couldn't hold it in any longer.

Through clenched teeth so the neighbors wouldn't hear, she said, "Get in here."

Bewildered, Miles sat down on the table, while Y/N returned to her spot on the couch. She didn't look at Miles, frowning at the television screen. Trying to figure out what to say. Miles spoke up.

"What happened-?"

"You would know."

Okay, something was definitely wrong. Miles frantically racked his brain for signs: something he said that morning? Difficult work day? Nothing came up in his mind.

Y/N stalked over to the table where Miles sat. A humorless grin spread across her face, she asked, "What's that under your sweatshirt?" Miles' heartbeat picked up.

"A… shirt?" He prayed to God she hadn't found out.

"Do you think I'm stupid, Morales?"

A pit formed in Miles' Stomach.

Y/N was yelling now. "I can see the suit!"

Miles sighed, cradling his forehead in the palm of his hand. "Well, now you know." Y/N clearly wasn't satisfied.

"I don't know a damn thing, apparently!" Her voice softened to a whimper as tears welled up in her eyes.

"How long have you been wearing that mask, Miles?"

"Everyday-"

"Since when?"

Miles looked away. "8th grade." There was a long pause as his words hung in the air.

"Every day since we were thirteen."

[theloveinc]

miguel o'hara x reader - the thoughts you have about AND the first time you meet gabriella o'hara's soccer dad

(warning: essentially two different drabbles squashed together messily, shitty writing, gn except you self-describe as an oaf and mention wearing leggings)

-

Something about the the six-five plus, toned and perfectly tanned father of one of your soccer players. 

He stands at the edge of your soccer field almost every weekday, shouting encouragement to his daughter Gabi (on your roster and to you, Gabriella O’Hara) in his skin tight, green and red compression shirt and with sandy brown curls for bangs that drive you absolutely insane.  

You’re starting to develop a bit of an obsession with him, though as far as anyone knows (your co-coach, the snack team, the girls themselves), you’re right as rain when it comes to your outward behavior and refereeing… but in regard to yourself? When you take a deep, sinking dive into your subconscious? The thoughts you harbor during opening warm-ups, end-of-practice stretches, and every other free moment in between are filled with nothing but daydreams about what’s hiding underneath his clothing and if there’s strength enough to lift you up or bend you right over. 

NOT that you’ve ever greeted, much less actually spoken to him outside of a smile (on your part) and a wave at pickup, an ice cold water bottle and fresh cut fruit already in Gabriella’s hands as she waves goodbye, too… But you like staring at him, a real sight for sore eyes, as well as thinking about what you’d say to him if you ever got the chance.

Your daughter is our star player, you’d say, trying to hide your oh-so-obvious interest behind your sleek, silver shades and visor with the team’s logo on it. You hope he’d smile, at least tilt his perfect lips in some direction of up even if only by millimeters, but you’re not sure if he’d look better with kind eyes and smile lines or raised eyebrows which compliment a smirk.

But I prefer watching you. 

Instead, however, the first time you talk to him is the first time Gabi rolls her ankle. One of the few days a week he’s not there to supervise, though he arrives barely fifteen minutes after one the other instructors calls. You’re sitting next to her in the bleachers, a frozen water bottle your sorry excuse for an ice-pack, and he’s scaling (more like climbing, prowling, mounting) up the stairs three at a time just to make it to you.

In a perfect world, it would be a day where your hair wasn’t frizzed by the sweat on your forehead, you’d be wearing the flattering leggings instead of your old pair of stained joggers, and you wouldn’t be meeting under such unfortunate (though mild) circumstances. Unfortunately, however, it isn’t that other day, and the man you’ve been crushing on (as stupid as that makes it sound) makes it to you like he’s practically going to open his mouth and devour you whole—

“Daddy!” Gabriella interrupts the thought before you can finish it, her father’s eyes immediately slipping from yours to hers and softening as his clenched fists open to reach her, grasp her knee, take over holding the ice so she can free her hands to wrap around his neck.

“Mi amor,” he leans in, accepting the hug eagerly and without hesitation, all focus on her. “You’re hurt."

“It's okay! I'm okay," she grins when he pulls back, her smile toothy despite her swollen ankle that still throbs under your touch. "Coach carried me all the way here.”

She turns to blink her big, sweet eyes at you, and though you’re warming in embarrassment (hotter now than when the sun was at it’s highest) at the thought of her father seeing you as some big oaf who let their player get injured (and really, carried? The most she let you do was help to keep her stabilized by throwing an arm over your shoulder), you can’t help but melt at the sight her pretty browns.  

“It was, uh, nothing,” you try to smile. The words sounds so foolish coming out of your mouth, tacky like something out of a movie you’d never watch willingly, and especially so when he doesn’t even twitch and still all you can think about is the snarl of his lip as he goes in to bite.

“Obviously not, if it was—"

“Cállate, daddy,” Gabriella snaps, a pout on her lips as she reaches up to squish her fathers cheeks together (you wonder if she notices the stubble growing there) and to your surprise, he does so without hesitation. “It was all Sisi’s fault anyway. I saw her stick out her leg.” 

The attention on you is suddenly gone, replaced by the slide and squint of red eyes onto Gabriella, whose frown deepens as her father growls and his shoulders seem to grow. You’re honestly not sure whether you're more disappointed or relieved that you’re no longer the center of his attention and at risk of some sort of chastising, but you do feel the slight simmer of guilt in your stomach when the thought makes your loins clench.

“But you better not make a fuss; last time you called Sisi’s parents you started saying malas palabras.” 

"I did not," he huffs in a surprisingly sassy manner, poking her side with raised brows. "We were having a perfectly adult conversation about the way Sisi behaved."

Gabriella rolls her eyes, but giggles nonetheless, and you shy away from interrupting a father and his daughter.

“Mr. O’Hara…?”

“Miguel,” he corrects, peering at you out of the corner of his eye before Gabriella pushes his whole face into your view. "Miguel O'Hara."

“Miguel,” you feel out his name on your tongue. It’s sharp and acidic, like a wound still leaking fresh blood, lime in a cold soda, but also handsome too. “I can take care of Sisi if you’d like to take Gabriella home?" 

He nods at that, his face reverting back to something more serious and stern with a sigh. Wrinkled lines etch themselves into the sharpness of his creeks, the crease of his forehead, even his narrowed eyes though his expression is more forgiving now: his blatant disappointment easing into an exhaustion of relief with every one of Gabriella’s pats to his shoulder and the relief of knowing it wasn’t actually your fault. 

Gabriella grabs the sleeve of your shirt before can you manage to slip away unnoticed and leave the family on their own.

"Call me Gabi, ‘kay?”

Bashful and cute, she beams, a knowing look in her eyes that doesn't go unnoticed by Miguel (it still feels somewhat weird to finally have a real title for him) and has you promising intently even as you wave from below the bleachers—

Unaware of all the moments her attractive father has been staring back at you all these months.

[weird-an]

tw: Billy thinks Steve grooms/touches Max

Billy has kept his mouth shut for a month since Max screamed at him if he understood. He stayed away - but he didn't understand what was going on back then, not really.

There's one thing. The only thing he understands is that Max keeps meeting with the Creepy Kids Club and Harrington. It makes Billy sick. It happened three times since then. Three times too many.

Before the fourth time he snaps, because Max mentioned at breakfast that they'll meet again. He didn't even notice that he was so worked up- but then Harrington walks past him at school, smiling at him.

Billy shoves him into the janitor's broom closet.

Harrington makes a surprised sound. Billy presses him against the wall.

"Stay away from my sister," Billy barks. He thinks of her, hiding behind that window. About Harrington telling him he doesn't know her.

Harrington rolls his big brown eyes. "Dude, didn't she make it clear?"

Nothing is clear to Billy except that Max and Harrington hang out and he can't take it anymore.

Billy grabs the collar of his polo shirt tighter. "I don't care. You don't touch her, okay?"

"What the fuck," Harrington wheezes. "I'm not touching anybody! She's a fucking kid, man. I'm not that kind of guy."

But that's the thing. No one is that kind of guy. Just like Neil isn't that kind of father and Billy isn't that kind of son. Everybody lies every fucking day and now Harrington lies right to his face.

Billy just wants to find one piece of truth, one good thing in shit town, Indiana.

"Don't you dare to lie to me," he growls.

Harrington lifts his hands and actually looks concerned. Like he takes Billy seriously.

"I promise. I'm not touching your sister... or any kid. I won't, ever."

Billy stares at him. He sounds... honest. But can he simply believe him? It's too easy. Nothing is ever easy.

"Okay?" Harrington asks carefully, like Billy is a wild dog about to bite. And he's right. Billy does want to put his mouth on Steve. Just not like this.

"Okay." He lets go before he can do something stupid. Harrington straightens his stupid polo.

They stare at each other. Harrington's even prettier than before.

"Not anybody, hm?" It just slips out. Maybe because it's only the two of them.

"What? Are you offering?" Harrington blows a strand of hair out of his face and eyes Billy from head to toe. "You can't afford me anyway."

He's out and the door closes with a thud.

Billy stands alone in the closet, torn between laughing at the irony and the relief that Harrington isn't that kind of guy.

Unfortunately there's something else there, too. Because Harrington's last words make Billy want to chase after him like the dog he pretends he isn't.