#they always have to replace their clothes when they shift without warning and shorts are the cheapest

[haminosky]

Emmett just wants a wolf buddy 💔

[moonlight-prose]

taste me on your tongue

a/n: guess who's gonna go see deadpool and wolverine again. last night i was battling a migraine, but at around midnight it finally fucking disappeared. so i wrote a small drabble that i'd been dreaming about to make myself feel better. it's short and spicy and i'm actually obsessed with it.

summary: the taste of him became an addiction you couldn't ignore. especially when he was adamant on sharing it in multiple ways.

word count: 0.8k+

pairing: logan howlett x reader

warnings: semi-explicit, shotgunning, cigar taste, make out sessions, dry humping, his hand makes a pretty necklace, good girl usage, logan is messy with it.

His grip is loose on your neck—fingers splayed across soft skin he'd bite later. Heavy enough to keep you in place, remind you what he wanted, but with enough leeway for you to move. To slide into his lap with ease—hands braced on his leather clad shoulders. A smile painted across your heavenly face; one he tried to burn behind his eyelids in the hopes of replacing his nightmares with visions of you instead.

The cigar was set between his teeth, smoke curling past his lips that mumbled your name. He half expected you to remove it—toss it into the ash tray and leave it to smolder for the rest of the night. You surprised him by pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth. A pleased sigh escaped you when he pulled you closer—the evident bulge on his jeans gave enough information about what he wanted.

"Ain't you pretty tonight," he said, thumb running along your collarbone. "Get all dolled up for me baby?"

You nodded. "I wanted to meet you at the door."

"Mm." Whatever plans the two of you set flew out the front fucking window the second he saw you prancing towards him—a soft smile on your face and hearts practically reflecting in your eyes. "Prettiest fuckin' thing I've ever seen."

Your teeth dug into your bottom lip, hips shifting over his with a whine. And Logan felt his body beg him to move this along. To strip you of your clothes and drop them to the ground. He merely spread his thighs a bit wider, forcing your legs to stretch over his hips—your fingers a sharp dig through the layers he wore.

"I missed you today."

"Yeah?"

What he wouldn't give to see that look in your eyes every fucking morning. Soft enough to break his already damaged heart. Yet filled with enough love to put it back together.

"This place is empty without you Logan."

There'd never be anything sweeter than knowing he held a spot in your life. Days without him left you longing for his touch—his voice whispering in your ears. Logan felt like an anchor. A reminder that you belonged right there with him; you weren't lost in your place in the world when he existed to find you. Although whether you knew it or not—Logan felt the exact same about you.

"'M gonna try somethin'," he said, voice hoarse as he pictured what would come after this. "Hold still for me bub."

His calloused palm slid up your throat until he gripped your chin tight enough for your lips to part. Heat pooled in your stomach when he tugged you closer—his nose barely nudging against your cheek. You thought he'd kiss you like this. Still puffing on a cigar and lips tinged with the taste of it.

You almost wished he had.

The sight of his lips closing around the end, sucking in a mouthful of smoke, before he pulled it free caused your stomach to drop—the throbbing in between your legs suddenly unbearable. You wouldn't have been able to ignore it if you tried. And thankfully Logan was always adamant on giving your body the attention it needed.

The attention he claimed you deserved.

Pushing your cheeks together, he brushed his lips over yours in a kiss. A whimper climbed its way up your throat and nearly broke free. If it weren't for the smoke he blew into your open mouth—the taste of his cigar now a part of your sharp intake of breath.

"That's a good fuckin' girl," he groaned.

Giving you no chance to respond, his lips clashed against yours in a messy kiss. The smoke that remained now escaping between the two of you—disappearing into the air within seconds. His tongue licked across your teeth, spit a wet smear along your bottom lip. For the brief second he pulled away, shifting to cup the back of your neck, a string of saliva left the both of you connected.

You took it all. Each rough grunt and deep lick he gave you. And you met him with soft sighs and moans of your own.

"Can I have another?" you asked against his cheek, hips starting a slow grind against his lap.

Logan's whole body jolted at the sound—his breath, a hot pant against the skin of your neck. He was lucky he didn't finish in his pants at your question. Yet before he could give you a straight answer, he was shoving the cigar back in his mouth—pulling in another long drag to gather as much smoke as possible.

How could he deny you something so sinful? When you asked like an angel.

"C'mere," he muttered around a mouthful of smoke. Careful to keep it from escaping.

You smiled, fingers tangling into his hair, and met him halfway for the kiss. Logan felt a piece of himself settle deep into your chest—forever now a part of you.

don't look at me okay. i just want him to blow smoke in my mouth.

[momhwa-agenda]

Office playground | Octoberfest Day 5

Pairing - co-worker!Haknyeon x fem!reader

Drink - Mule with a hint of triple sec (aka Co-workers & Clothed Sex)

Summary - Who said coffee breaks with your work friend couldn't be exciting?

Word Count - 930

Warnings - SMUT (Minors 18+ DNI!!!), sneaking around, semi public sex, heavy kissing, dry humping, thigh riding, masturbation (m! receiving), hickeys, biting, petnames ("babe"), Haknyeon and Y/N are dancing around each other with this romantic office fling

Author’s note - It's how I thought I had it all figured out last month only to do a major edit help. Really fumbled with the title for this one. I don't care if this version I went with might sound a little too cliché, point still stands that Haknyeon deserves more fics. I hope Ally and Gab appreciate me despite how short this is ashdsd.

Taglist - @midnightfantasiez @kitschun @daisyvisions @snowflakewhispers @nyu-topia @jaminthemiddle

⇀ OctoberFest Masterlist

“This isn’t right,” he murmured against your lips, though his hands said otherwise, moving with a purpose, gripping your waist and pulling you closer.

“I know…” you managed between kisses, your breath hitching as his fingers trailed up to grope your breasts. “But…When has that ever stopped us?”

In the quiet of the lounge room, your back against the wall as Haknyeon pressing into you, his lips crashing into yours in a flurry of pent-up desire. The taste of him was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but gasp as his hands explored your body, fingers skimming over your curves, desperate to feel every inch of you.

His mouth found your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses that made your knees weak. Each touch sent shivers down your spine, and you arched into him, craving more, always more. Haknyeon groaned, his breath ragged as he pressed harder into you, the tension between you threatening to snap.

“Fuck,” you moaned when you felt his lips brushing against your ear, “This is better than the dream I had last night.”

You felt him pause for a moment, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “A dream?” he asked, his voice low and teasing. “What happened in this dream of yours?”

You blushed, looking down for a second before meeting his gaze. “I might have dreamed you were under my desk, eating me out during work,” you confessed with a sly smile, your fingers toying with the buttons of his shirt. “It felt so real I woke up shaking.”

Haknyeon let out a shaky breath, his eyes darkened with lust as your words sank in. “Damn,” he breathed, his hands gripping your hips a little tighter. “That sounds so hot, babe. Maybe next time we can make that a reality.” His lips returned to your neck, leaving heated kisses, his voice dripping with need. “Besides, I could easily make you come undone…even with your clothes still on.”

A playful smirk tugged at your lips as you pulled back slightly, challenging him. “Oh really? I’d like to see you come undone with just your clothes on.”

Haknyeon’s expression shifted, his teasing smile replaced with something more intense. “You don’t think I can?” he whispered, his voice a low growl that sent a thrill through you. Without warning, he pushed his knee between your legs, his hands guiding your hips down onto his thigh.

A sharp gasp escaped you, your body reacting instantly to the pressure. The friction was delicious, and you bit your lip hard, trying to suppress a moan as he flexed his thigh beneath you, making you grind against him. The danger of being caught only heightened the thrill, and you clung to his shoulders, desperate to keep control.

“You have no idea…” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “What effect you have on me.”

Your lips met again, the kiss messy, heated, full of raw need. Every movement, every touch, every kiss was driving you closer to the edge, your mind clouded with nothing but the need to feel him, to release all the tension building between you. You could feel his own restraint slipping as his erection pressed against your thigh, his desire just as palpable, his breath hot against your skin.

Your fingers dug into his shirt, desperate to hold on as your movements became more frantic. The friction, the heat, it was all too much, and you felt yourself teetering on the brink of release. Haknyeon’s hand slid up to your neck, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he whispered, “Want to…make you feel so…good.”

You gasped, your body trembling as you whispered back, “Not without you…” One of your hands slipped down between his legs, finding his throbbing bulge beneath his slacks, rubbing him to match the rhythm of your hips against his thigh. He groaned, his body shuddering as you both chased that sweet release.

It was fast, desperate, the need to finish before your break ended driving you both to the edge. You bit down on his shirt, muffling your cries as you felt the tension snap, waves of pleasure crashing over you as you came. Haknyeon wasn’t far behind, his body tensing before he groaned into your ear, his release spilling over as he clung to you.

For a moment, everything was still with the sound of your ragged breathing filling the room, as the two of you clung to each other as you came down from your high. You rested your head against his chest, your breath fanning his neck as you placed a quick kiss on his skin.

Slowly, you both pulled away, straightening your clothes and trying to look like you hadn’t just fucked each other in the office lounge. Haknyeon helped you fix your hair, his fingers brushing against your neck as he gathered your hair to hide the mark he’d left. You raised an eyebrow at him, smirking.

“You really suck for doing that, you know,” you teased him playfully.

“I told you,” he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “I can’t help myself around you.”

With one last look, you both grabbed your coffees, a shared smile passing between you. As you headed back toward the office, you couldn’t help but throw him a final, cheeky remark.

“Well,” you said, your voice light, “at least now I’ve got a new excuse for being late to that meeting.”

Haknyeon chuckled, leaning in close enough to murmur in your ear, “Maybe next time we should just take that coffee break in my car.”

[thevoidscreams]

Hello, can I request some wild sanguinius? I am attracted to his bloodlust being a predator and he asked me how it would be if he does it in that state with his beloved or even with leman in Mating Press March

Day eleven I got a case of brain rot on this one and had to do something. So yall get post battle Sangy. Also sorry for another short one I was running around all day and still feeling like shit.

Pairing: Sanguinius x reader

Warnings: Blood, Animalistic sex, sex in a thunderhawk, descriptions of violence (not towards you)

Three weeks, three agonizing weeks.

Sanguinius's nerves were shot as he landed, his mind a mire of dark and sinister things. Blood, flesh, death, consumption, lust.

Three weeks since he'd last seen you, the battling was too dangerous on the ground for you to be there. But not that the fighting was at a lull he was confident that you would be safe.

In his arms, you'd always be safe.

"Bring her to me." Sanguinius rumbled. His son nodded, not needing to ask who. It was his mother, of course. The Mother of angels. The wife of Sanguinius.

The order was sent up the line till it was in the right hands to have you ferried down to your husband's side.

It didn't take long. The adrenaline of battle had waned slightly, replaced by a new sensation. The need to claim. The need to have and to sow, not only destroy.

Three weeks, he kept thinking of blood and smoke and too little rest, too little comfort.

But soon he would have you. He would have you to hold and to kiss and to bed again and again.

He stood there, his eyes fixed on the sky from where he knew the thunderhawk would return. He ran his tongue over his canines and daydreamed about you. "Father? Are you alright?" A younger blood angel asked and Sanguinius nodded. "Quite, I am just.. eager to see your mother again." "You must love her very much." "I do." He nodded and smiled down at his son, shifting his weight from one foot to another. The sound of roaring engines drew his gaze back to the sky. His wings fluffed in anticipation and he nearly took to the sky to intercept the ship to get to you faster, but he did not for fear of damaging the vessel and causing you harm. It landed and Sanguinius approached, his hearts hammering as he knew what awaited him within. Hauling open the door he entered, your personal escort of astartes turning and giving their father his due respect. "All of you out. I need some time to speak with your mother privately."

They didn't argue, stepping from the hawk without a question asked. They knew better than to impede on their gene sires alone time with his wife. The door hissed shut behind him leaving you both alone. "Sanguinius, I've missed you so much." You went to him, careful not to put your hand in a patch of blood. Which wasn't easy. "As I have you my dove." His body was trembling with need. The fighting was done for now. Now it was time for something else. "Gosh, Sangy, your armor is almost as red as our sons." You chuckled. Yes, your sons. Both of yours, Sanguinius adored how much his sons seemed to care for you.

Sanguinius fell to his knees taking you in his arms as he listened to the sound of your laugh. He hadn't heard anything so sweet in weeks. "Please, my dove, I know we've just reunited. But I need you." You nodded, needing him as well. There was a wild sort of desperation in his eyes that you recognized immediately. It was the same one you often saw after he returned from battle. "Of course my love. Let me just undress and then-"

He pounced without a moment's warning. Your back was on the floor and he was pulling his codpiece away with reckless abandon. shredding the body glove underneath with it. His fangs sank into the rich cloth of your dress, and with a jerk of his head was reduced to scraps of ragged fabric.

"Sangunius!" You gasped in shock. His tongue ran up your body, growling in frustration when he was impeded by the bra baring your chest from him. Sanguinius tore it away, the fabric and padding sundered as if they were nothing more than tissue paper. His tongue began again, his teeth snagging your underwear as he pulled it to lacey pieces.

Your fingers grasped at his golden locks. Your voice cried out wordlessly as he dug in, lapping at your entrance like a starving animal. The coppery scent of the dried blood on his armor made your head spin, and it certainly wasn't helped by the pleasure your husband was pressing upon you from between your legs. His name spilled from your lips in a whine as he let his tongue drift up farther, lapping over your body, tasting your skin. His cock throbbed, painfully hard as he locked his lips with yours, You could taste your own juices, and blood. Whose it had been you would never know. He would never tell, you would never ask. His cock pressed against your wet heat and he growled pushing into the tight clinging walls of his love after three weeks of being apart. He took your legs and easily pressed them up against your chest, holding them there with his body. Your hands went to his cheeks, your thumbs running over them in a quiet form of affection. "Oh my dove." He purred, eyes fluttering shut. "How I've missed you." Your reply ended abruptly as he pulled out and thrust back in. Your head fell back unto the cold metal floor as he fucked you. It was not gentle as it so often was, but animalistic and needy. His voice raised as he raked his finger over the floor, searching for some sort of purchase to stabilize himself. His wings shivered behind him, brushing the walls as he let out the pent up need that had been building.

All the blood he'd spilled, all the lives ended by his hands had been done for you. Outwardly they'd been for the imperium, for his father's dream. But that wasn't the reason in his hearts. Every time he'd closed his eyes he'd see you. Smiling up at him with a bundle of joy in your arms. Safe on yet another world brought to compliance by the efforts of himself and your sons. He loved how you took to them so immediately and how naturally the title of mother had come to you. Soon he would see you taking to the title in a whole new light.

You were panting and moaning under his armored body, practically squished against the floor as he pressed you down. Your walls clenched around him and he felt you cum at the same time you screamed his name. Your mind lost to the pleasure of taking your husband's cock after being apart for so damn long. "Yes, Dove, come for me." He growled, his voice rumbling through you. The utter bliss on your face drove him to the edge and he slipped over it, his wings flaring and beating against the walls of the thunderhawk. He poured his love into you, physically, emotionally and verbally. Petting your hairs as he cooed how much he loved you, adored you, needed you.

It wasn't how you had expected your time with him to go. At least not right away. Sanguinius rolled onto his back carrying you with him. You raised your head and laughed a little. "And here i was thinking i had missed you the most." Sanguinius kissed up your throat lovingly. "I have been needing you every day for three weeks." "So I see." You looked around and laughed some more. It looked like someone had taken a chain blade to a giant goose. "We made quite the mess." Bloodstained feathers littered the floor and Sanguinius looked around, joining you in your laughter. It felt good to laugh with such happiness. "That we did my dove. That we did."

He picked you up after a time and wrapped you in the fur that had hung from his armor. You didn't want to go, but there was clean up left to do. He promised to have you sent for again as soon as he possibly could.

Leaving the ship, his armor back in order his sons didn't quite look at him. Their cheeks red with embarrassment. But then again they hadn't been expecting their parents to rock a thunderhawk."Well my sons. shall we get back to it?" They all nodded eagerly and Sanguinius suppressed an amused smile knowing they'd likely never forget this. And the primarch wondered, just how those who had been close by would react when he and their mother inevitably announce the arrival of a new sibling. With a sigh he put the amusing thought aside and returned to his duties.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Blind Offer 7

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a leak causes you to evacuate your apartment, your landlord offers a vacant unit that’s too good to be true. (short!plus!reader)

Character: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Lloyd Hansen, and August Walker

Note: Welcome back yall

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love turning intended one shots into series. Take care. 💖

Steve lets out a long breath and shuts the book. He lays it on the bath desk and nods. You stay where you, mashing your palms together by the door, longing to run away.  

“Take this away,” he demands curtly without looking at you. 

“Yes, sir,” you trip forward and clack your heels on the tile before you can steady yourself. 

You remove the empty glass, streaked with moisture, and put it on the counter. Then you lift the lap desk, balancing the book atop it, and rest it further back on the marble. The water shifts noisily behind you and reluctantly, you face him again. 

“I prefer the sage and peppermint soap,” he says as he leans back against the side of the tub, his head tilted back with a sigh, “ugh, long day...” 

You let his words hang. Is he mocking you? Yes. This is all at your expense. 

You near the tub again and look at the bath shelf. There’s several bottles that weren’t there before. You bend to reach over him as he waits expectantly. You take the black silicon body scrubber along with the sage soap and stand straight. You squeeze out a dollop onto the soft bristles and dare to look down on Steve. 

Oh. You try not to see, only try to do what he wants. You set the soap aside and dip the scrubber into the water then lather. You grip the edge of the tub as you lean over him. Your hand shakes as you reach to touch his broad chest. The tension eases as you drag across his firm muscle. 

He’s watching you. You feel his gaze and are caught glancing up by his crystal blue eyes. You blanch and he smirks. 

“When you use that toy, do you think of me?” He growls. 

You flinch but don’t recoil. You look down as you focus on washing his chest and shoulders. You swallow and bite down on your humiliation.  

“Honey, I know you’re not blind. Neither am I. You’re a gorgeous girl and well, look at me...” he purrs and brings his hand above the surface to tickle your other hand. “You wanna play with that toy tonight? Want someone to play with?” 

You quiver and dip your hand in the water again. He snickers and sits up, bracing the sides of the tub, and stands. The water slakes off of his thick form. 

“Why am I asking?” He faces you, “you’ll do whatever I want, honey.” He stands before you staunchly, “continue.” 

You continue to wash him. You push the suds down his stomach and he sucks it in as his muscles contract. You gets his sides then his back as he turns. The lower you get, the less diligent you are.  

When he faces you again, he catches your hand, and you let out a squeak. He’s hard. He slips the scrubber from your hand and replaces it with a cloth. He closes your grasp around his rigid length. 

“Gotta get it all,” he purrs. 

You tremble and he pumps your hand once, up, then down. 

“Be thorough, honey.” 

You stare at the lines of his torso, just above your hand. You move mechanically, stroking him firmly, gripping tighter just to keep from disassembling. He chuffs and shakes, grunting through his nose as he latches onto your chest. 

“Little more,” he grits between his teeth. 

You close your eyes and keep the motion. This is disgusting. He’s disgusting. And you have no choice. As he squeezes your tit, kneading it, you can only think of that woman in her smeared make up. Is she still around or are you merely a replacement? 

“Ah, god,” he spasms and warmth spurts up your forearm and down the washcloth’s edge. You open your eyes with immediate regret. His cum strings in glistening ribbons, the smell cutting through the scent of sage. “Mmm,” he fondles you a little more before he pulls away, “bad girls make messes, good girls clean them up.” 

You open your hand and let go of him. Before you can use it to wipe clean your arm, he snatches it. He holds it above you, dripping onto the tile in front of you. 

“No,” he sneers “not like that.” 

You frown in confusion. 

“Clean it up,” he repeats with punctuation and taps your mouth with his thick finger. 

His meaning sinks into your stomach and churns. You shudder and lift your arm. Your lip curls as you bring it up and poke out your tongue. The taste nearly makes your wretch. Your body racks as you make yourself lick up his cup. 

He hums as he watches you, “such a good girl, keeping me clean.” 

Your eyes sting with tears as your stomach and chest contract. You’re repulsed by yourself as much as him. How fucking weak are you just going along with it. What else can you do? The flashes of the woman’s pretty face streaked with tears and fear keep you from letting out the surge of self-hatred and rage. 

“Yes, sir,” you whisper. 

“Finish.” He demands. 

You swallow down the order and the taste of him. Humiliation roils around you, adding to the heat fed into the air by the bath water. He takes the washcloth and tosses it, returning the scrubber to your hand. You continue on the task, pretending as if you were merely washing a counter or a tabletop. 

When at last he’s content, he lowers himself back into the water. You cling to the scrubbie, unsure. He growls. You go rigid. 

“Hair.” 

The order is clear. You put the soap back on the shelf, trading it for shampoo in a similar scent. You use the small plastic jug to wet his hair, using your hand to block the pour from his face. You lather, scrubbing his scalp, the act made awkward as your thoughts race. You’ve never had to wash another person’s hair.  

His groans taint the innocent deed as he leans his head back. You try not to show your uncertainty. Your bottom continues to pulse each time you think of resisting. You can even recall exactly how the table felt against you with each heartless strike. 

You rinse out the soap, dragging your fingers through his hair, pouring until the water is clear and free of bubbles. You set the thing back as you found them and Steve stretches his neck with a choked grunt. He Pushes himself to his feet again, careless of the water that drips onto the floor. 

He steps over the edge and you back up. You search and grab the towel. The little things are your last attempt at appeasing him. You might just make it through the night. Does it matter? What about tomorrow? 

You dry him off as he drips onto the bath mat and around it. He lets you, bending for you to get his hair. Even naked, his size and strength is stark against your own. You don’t miss the twitching lower down either. 

“Did you lay my pajamas out for me?” He asks. 

You cringe. Of course, you’re missing something. You let him claim the towel as he wraps it around his waist.  

“Sorry, sir, I didn’t have the chance--” 

“Go, do it,” he commands. 

“Yes, sir.” 

You are happy enough to get some space. As demeaning as his tone is, it’s better than lingering. You turn and flit off to figure out the pajamas. 

You head down the hall and slow. Steve clears his throat from behind you and you turn back to find him peeking around the door frame. 

“The main bedroom. At the end,” he instructs. 

You nod and carry on. You’d almost gone into the room you’d been occupying. You deign to call it your own room. This place is not your home. It’s a prison and you hate yourself for not realising it sooner. Every single red flag waves in your memory and makes you want to tear your own eyes out. 

You go into the larger bedroom. You flick the light on and peer around. The overhead light has a simplistic white glass shade that casts over the space brightly. There are sconces on either side of the king bed, a switch beside each for their control, and nightstands that match the sleek black bed frame. Beneath the grand bed, a plush white rug across the dark hardwood. Like the rest of the house, it’s pristine. 

There’s a large closet nearly the expanse of a whole wall and two tall dressers, one to either corner as if to bookend the door you’ve come through. Another door stands opposite the closet through which you can only see shadows and the glean of the overhead light. It must be another bathroom. 

You step further inside and stop short as movement catches your eye. You didn’t notice your reflection before, there above the headboard of the bed. Your heart drops and you look up. The bed is mirrored perfectly by the reflective panel above. You shiver and turn to the dresser. 

You put your hand around the knob and pause. You squint as you bend to read the label and notice one on every drawer; each a single letter. You notice only four variations in initials; S, B, L, and A. That’s what they must be; S is Steve. Your blood simmers to a boil. There are more of them. That man on the speaker must be one of them. 

You pull open the top drawer marked S. You pull out a pair of pajamas; plain blue cotton, a tee and matching pants. You shut the drawer with your hip and carry the armful to the bed. 

You hear him coming down the hall. You lay the pajamas on the mattress and back up. He marches through and stops at the foot of the bed. He swipes the towel from around his waist and hurls it at you. You catch it with a gasp. 

“There’s a mess in there.” 

“Yes, sir,” you force out and keep the towel in hand. 

“Towel goes in the laundry tomorrow. With my clothes. Hamper at the end of the hall.” 

You repeat your acquiescence and carry on. The heels click incessantly beneath your strained arches. You enter the bathroom and gather up his disposed clothing. You ball it all up with the towel and dump it all in the standing hamper.  

You drain the tub and wipe down the sides. You take the washcloth from the sink and add it to the laundry. You’d rather burn it. You wash your hand before you finish sopping up the little puddles of water on the tile. You hang the bathmat over the edge of the tub to dry out. You even flush the yellow piss he left in the toilet. That feels especially deliberate of him. 

You return to him, click, click, click. You stop in the doorway as he pulls back the bedcovers. He glances over and narrows his eyes. Great, what cryptic order have you missed. 

“You don’t look ready for bed.” 

“Sorry, sir--” 

“Get changed,” he interrupts you, “come back here.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Off again. You’re irked by how he orders you around. You feel like a dog. 

The room is barren of your things. It isn’t yours, that’s why. It’s made for the doll they’re trying to make you into. You go to the dresser and pull it open. It’s full of lace and silk and sheer fabrics. None of it meant for practicality. 

You pull out a jade green nightly and shake your head. You retreat to the bed and sit, clutching the silk. This isn’t right. For once in your life, you’d rather be stocking shelves amidst the greedy customers and crow-like managers. You hate this all. You hate yourself for not being strong enough to get out. 

“Never keep your man waiting,” the woman’s voice returns and makes you wince. You look around and find one of the picture frames has dissolved its usual image of a bicycle wheel and bucket. Her eyes is swollen and bruised despite her efforts to cover it with makeup, “men do not like to wait. You not only disrespect their time but them—Ah!” 

She throws her hand up to shield herself before the screen goes black. You whimper and slump your shoulders. Your lip trembles as tears threaten to spill over. You can’t do this. Eventually, you’ll slip up again. You don’t want to be like her. A hollow shell of fear and yet what else can you do? 

“Doll,” the man’s voice ripples through the air, “don’t make me repeat myself.” 

You look up at the ceiling defiantly. You scowl and the bodiless voice laughs.  

“Keep on,” he goads, “I’ll remember every single one.” 

You stand and put your chin down. His threat is clear. Tonight, it’s Steve, one night, it will be him. You strip down and as you pull the silk over your head, the man’s low timbre roll in the air. 

“Can’t wait, doll,” he taunts and the microphone clicks decisively. 

You collect the clothes and put those in the hamper as well. You come back down the hall and make certain the lights are all off. You make your death walk towards the main room and peek inside as you approach. Steve lays across the bed, his pants tented without shame. He has one light on at his side of the bed. 

“Turn that off,” he demands as you enter. 

You flick off the overhead and come forward. He lifts his head to watch you. You approach the side of the bed and he stretches his arm across to rub the space beside him. He flips back the covers and winks. 

“You look good but... green’s not my colour.” 

You furrow your brows as you warily touch the mattress, pressing one knee to the edge, “sorry, sir, should I change?” 

“No,” he rolls onto his side and grabs your arm, hauling you up impatiently, “I like the way your tits look in that.” 

You clamp your lips tight to keep form showing your repulsion. He forces you against him so you feel his need against you. He growls in his throat as his hand trails up your arm. He frames your chin and forces you to look at him. His nose brushes yours. 

“I knew you were perfect the day you signed the lease, honey,” he snarls as he rubs the tip of his nose against yours. “So sweet and soft--” 

You press your hand to his chest and whimper. The idea that he’s been planning this, that it was all manufactured, a trap, is worse than the reality itself. Was the washer made to break or was it just a perfect opportunity? 

“It’s really too bad no one’s seen you around the building in days...” he purrs, “and once you fail to turn up for work... well... they’ll replace you but who will really think to look. Another missing girl in the city. Forgotten with yesterday’s headlines.” 

“Please, stop,” you beg as you curl your fingers against the light cotton across his chest. 

“You should be thanking me, baby,” he pulls you with him as he falls onto his back, keeping you nestled in his thick arm, “a girl like you shouldn’t be stocking shelves and smiling at strange men.” He reaches with his other hand to flip off the light, “you should know your place. You need a good man, maybe more, to show you.” 

The darkness sets in with the ominous tilt of his words. There is no way out of it. And even if someone were to look for you, how could they even know you would be here? You never mentioned it to your coworkers, never thought to say anything to your mother’s sparse texts. She never answered anyhow. 

You were stupid. You trusted him. A fucking landlord. You should know better than that. 

[trulybetty]

october | 01 x ruffled hair

pairing: frankie x reader word count: 661 warnings: n/a, just a little angst and some foreshadowing, as always unbeta'd summary: things between you and frankie haven't been the same since his return from colombia ao3: linked

{ x. series masterlist }

author note: prompts are not in chronological order, the story is told throughout the life span of the relationship. once all are posted, I'll post a list of the prompts in chronological order.

01 x Ruffled Hair.

The leaves outside had finally started to turn, green fading into yellow, and those that had fallen to the ground now had a crisp outline of red and brown as they crunched underfoot. The early morning sun spread across the room, seeping into those hard-to-reach nooks and crannies, only doing service to highlight the wisps of dust ushered in with the changing of the seasons.

You heard the bathroom door open and close quietly behind you. It wasn’t long ago that there had been mornings when you would have stretched up and pulled back the blanket covering the space beside you inviting his warm body back in. Now its sound just punctuated the silence that had settled over the last few weeks.

You lay still, eyes shut, listening to the soft rustle of clothing and the muted thud of drawers opening and closing. The scent of his soap wafted through the air, mingling with the crispness of autumn creeping through the slightly ajar window.

You could hear him inside the modest walk-in wardrobe, pulling on the black jeans he’d discarded there the night before much to your annoyance. As he buttoned them at the waist you cracked your eyes open just a little, you could see—through barely parted lashes—the heavy sigh in his shoulders before he pulled on his shirt and over his head.

You couldn’t make out what he was saying, his voice a quiet whisper under his breath, a mixture of Spanish and English punctuated by a curse that held no anger behind it when he finally allowed his shoulders to drop as he turned around slowly. As if he’d been bracing himself for this moment the entire time, facing you.

He ran a hand through his hair, the longer curls at the nape of his neck ruffled by his fingers, making them further unkempt than they were before as he tugged on them in frustration. The gesture was so familiar, yet it felt distant—and part of you wanted to reach out and replace his fingers with yours.

A lump formed in your throat as you dropped the charade of sleep and sat up in bed, your back braced by cold pillows. An unspoken question hung in the air, thick and suffocating. You fought the urge to fill the silence, fear winning out.

Fear of the words you weren’t ready to face.

His footsteps padded softly across the hardwood floor, stopping just short of your side of the bed. Part of you wanted to reach out, bridge the widening gap between you, but the weight of last night's argument anchored you in place.

The silence stretched on, punctuated only by the ticking of the clock on the wall. Each second that passed felt heavier than the last. He shifted his weight, and for a fleeting moment, you swore he was going to say something—offer an olive branch of an apology.

But instead, he cleared his throat and said almost inaudibly, “I’ll be back later,” there was hesitation in his voice as he reached for his baseball cap.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat feeling like it was going to choke you. He cast one last look at you before he moved away, the soft jingle of keys being picked up from the dresser the only noise in the room.

At the bedroom doorway, he paused once more. You held your breath, hoping against hope he’d turn around and everything would somehow just right itself, that the events of the past three months never happened. But the quiet click of the door closing dashed those hopes, leaving behind an emptiness that echoed through the room.

It struck you then, enough to make you catch your breath, that this was the first time he’d left without telling you he loved you. The realization settled a dark heavy weight in your chest, a stark contrast to the light filtering through the curtains.

[casspurrjoybell-23]

Berserkr - Chapter 1 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

"Alright, get yer'self together then. Finished off the last of these imbeciles, ye' did. Rest of the bond already returned to base. Follow."

He turned on his heel, going back the way he came with that same, odd hop-skip-and-dance around puddles of carnage.

Einar followed the order blindly without a single word of protest, shrinking his wide gait to a fraction of its usual length to compensate for his master's much shorter legs.

It had always been like this.

His master... Guiscard... had once told him that he'd been sold as a toddler by parents who were more desperate for a few gold coins than they were to keep him.

So instead of loving parents, the Alpha's earliest memories consisted of a village that thrived on war, on pillaging the highest mountains and lowest valleys.

A village that thrived on bloodshed.

And of course, from the very moment that he could walk, he was conditioned, trained to become a killing machine, an order-following drone whose individuality was scraped out like the insides of a gourd and replaced with anything that Guiscard wanted.

And Guiscard wanted everything.

"Ye' know, I'm feelin' generous today. Ye' scored me such a win that ye' get yer pick of the spoils," Guiscard prodded, smirk turning suggestive as they approached the base.

Einar's master gestured to the short line of about fifteen men and women who wore expressions of trauma, all connected by heavy, rusted shackles on both their wrists and ankles that clanked when shifting position.

"What do you say, 'eh? I'm sure one of 'em appeals to 'ye. Take a look."

Einar only glanced at their faces out of courtesy to his master's ever-so-gracious offer but the Alpha already knew his answer.

Einar only hurt others out of necessity, out of fear for his own life.

Or better yet, what Guiscard would do to make his life a living hell if he didn't obey every single order.

He remembered the first time that he was put into battle at the ripe age of eleven and he especially remembered glimpsing his reflection in the river on the trek back from the burning village.

It looked as if he was covered in more blood than skin and he'd immediately thrown his measly breakfast right back up, directly into that dreadful reflection.

Over time his brain had learned to adapt to inflicting such ghastly acts, to become immune, to shut out the reality of the pain that he was forced to inflict on innocent people on a daily basis.

It was the only way to cope.

But if it were only his choice... something that he could never hope to have... Einar would never let a single speck of pain be caused by his fingertips ever again.

At least, not for those who didn't deserve it.

"Thank you, master," Einar finally spoke, the sound deep and crinkly, akin to the crushing of fall leaves.

"But I am not worthy," he finished, years of experience with his master's temperament instilling the knowledge that self-depreciation was the only way to convince the man of certain things.

Guiscard snorted, shaking his head as he traipsed over to the horse cart that held a different kind of spoil of war.

The stout man lifted a few of the precious items that they'd stripped the village of up to his eye to inspect them while he responded.

"What decent man denies the pleasures of the flesh when it's dropped right at their damn feet? Ye' are one idiotic specimen, Einar."

He shooed the Alpha with a hand, fixated on a particularly interesting necklace with jewels embedded into the chain.

"Go join the other bonded since yer too scared to be a real man."

Einar blinked, adjusting the weight of the bearskin that sat atop his shoulders before making his way toward the small group of other Berserkrs... slaves that also belonged to Guiscard's extensive harem of servants.

Taking a seat on a free patch of grass, he watched wordlessly while his brethren... just as drenched in blood as he... tied bones, pieces of cloth and various other spoils of their own around necklaces, waist-skins and bandoliers.

To many, it was tradition, a symbol of strength and power to wear the evidence of one's slaughter with an excessive level of pride that Einar could never quite understand.

After all, no matter how much they tried to portray the strength of their physical prowess, it would never change the fact that their bodies... their entire lives... were the contractual property of another.

His bearskin was his only spoil, if one could even call it that.

Yes, he'd killed the bear himself but he only wore the skin to fend off the bitter chill of the night when they slept out in the open on treks back to camp.

As Einar sat, empty-eyed and fixated on a single piece of grass, he pondered Guisard's words.

'Pleasures of the flesh.'

Einar had experienced pleasure before, many times in fact. Albeit, it had occurred in... less-than-optimal... situations.

You see, Guiscard had a tendency to lose himself in the prickly palms of greed.

And Einar... with a body built like a battle ox and only a few inches shy of seven feet... was a once-in-a-lifetime find.

But even with this rare gem in his possession, the man was far from satisfied.

So, the Beta took matters into his own hands.

If he couldn't find another Einar, he would make one.

Einar had been locked in a barn with a countless number of Omegas during the peak of his ruts, subsequently plunging said Omegas into the throws of heat themselves.

As much as he hated himself for it, it was an inevitable situation.

Every time, he would be unable to resist the core instincts that were written into the very genetics of his being.

He'd breed the Omega.

He'd apologize to the Omega more times than numbers could count.

The Omega would become with child.

His child would be born.

And then... disappointment surmounting at Einar's apparent lack of ability to produce an Alpha and frustrated at the concept of yet another mouth to feed in their village... Guiscard would simply order one of his bonds to 'get rid of it'.

His child.

His children.

Einar blinked, shifting his gaze to a different blade of grass before he could get too wrapped up in the thought.

After all, he was just a slave.

He had no choice in the matter.

And this was how his life was to be.

He would live this way until he got killed became too injured to fight or Guiscard decided he wasn't of use anymore in his older age.

"Get off yer lazy asses," Guiscard's voice rang out and Einar's half-braided hair slipped over a shoulder when he turned his head to look.

The stout man was getting situated on his black stallion that he loved to look down at his indentured from while one of his personal aides put away the stool that he had to use to mount the tall thing.

"We got a two-day trek back home. I'm even bein' generous and givin' y'all a whole day of restin' before the next raid. Ye'd do best to assume yer places before I got time to rethink."

Pushing to standing, Einar shifted his bear once again when the beast's teeth threatened to cut into his jaw.

It was only a short walk back to the horse cart that held the majority of the riches they'd pillaged the village dry of and more familiar with this process than with the concept of his own existence, the Alpha promptly secured the leather harness to his chest.

It would be a long two days as he pulled the cart single handed but he was the only one big enough, strong enough, to handle the task.

After all, it wasn't like he had a choice in the matter.

After all, Einar was just a slave.

[notanotherreidgirl]

ok so imagine that u and virgin!baby boy Reid are roommates (you share an apartment and ur rooms are right next to eachother) and he can always hear u moan every night that you play with yourself, but he feels to guilty to do anything about his little ‘problem’. and suddenly one night he’s like super horny and jerks off, not knowing that you’re awake and can hear everything. you try to drown him out until you hear him moan your name, so you go to his room and slowly open the door so he doesn’t hear you and when he feels you on the bed he’s super apologetic but you’re like “it’s okay baby boy😏” and he’s like “please mommy let me make you feel good🥺” and even though its his first time hes so good and when you let him fuck you hes so whiny and needy 😩😩😩😩

We Shouldn't

Warnings: loss of virginity, masturbating, handjob, oral sex (male receiving), perv!spence, sub!spence, mommy kink, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

Word Count: 1444

A/N: I embellished a bit - apologies

Spencer made life or death decisions nearly every day. He had to carefully craft his words when talking down unsubs and be able to assess dangerous situations in seconds to decide whether or not to shoot someone but now, when faced with a relatively simple choice, he was completely stumped. He had been rooted to the spot for nearly 20 minutes, unable to process the sight before him.

In his defense, Spencer had very little experience with women’s underwear and certainly no experience with something like the lacy little number you had left in the dryer. At this point, he had spent so much time staring at you that he knew without a doubt that they were yours. He also knew that he most definitely should not be picking them up right now or putting them in his pocket or running out of the laundry room and back to his apartment without putting his clothes to dry. And he most definitely should not be stashing your panties in his bedside table. But, alas, should not is not the same as did not.

For example, he should not watch you from his window when you went off on your morning run clad in running shorts and a tank top. He also should not linger behind you in the stairwell, eyes glued to your ass as you bounded up the stairs. And he certainly should not listen to you get yourself off at night but he did, even going as far as to take down his framed map and press his ear up against the wall. Spencer’s only saving grace was that thus far he had managed not to touch himself thinking of you, the overwhelming guilt forcing him to take a cold shower instead. But tonight was different. Tonight the panties in his bedside table were beckoning him as he ate leftover takeout, calling his name as leafed through books he’d already memorized, burning a hole through the wooden drawer as he slipped under the covers and listened for you on the other side of the wall.

There’s no harm in just holding them, he reasoned. The next thing he knew the panties were out of the drawer and in his hand and his pants had somehow slipped to mid-thigh in the process. This could be fine. I’ll find a way to give them back tomorrow and no one will know.

And maybe, just maybe, if Spencer was a man of more restraint he would’ve gotten away with it but he was not. He could hear you getting ready for bed, singing quietly to yourself. It was oddly intoxicating to know that you were going about your business, completely unaware of him and convinced that you were operating within the privacy of your own home.

Except you weren’t ignorant of your next door neighbor. Thin walls worked both ways and you could hear his soft moans reverberating into your own bedroom. You sang a little louder to drown him out, guilt eclipsing your excitement. You had often wondered about the young doctor next door - always coming and going at odd hours, never meeting your eyes or bringing anyone back to his for the night. He was so nervous around you, it made you wonder if he’d ever been with a woman but you shook the thought from your head. I should not be thinking about my neighbor’s sex life or lack thereof.

Just as you resolved to go in the kitchen and leave him in peace you heard it. It was unmistakable. You stilled listening intently, half-convinced your imagination was playing tricks on you as it often did. But there it was again clear as day. “Fuck, Y/N”

You were an overthinker, always going over your options rationally and hardly ever comfortable with making spur of the moment decisions. But you were out of your apartment in seconds, using the spare key he had nervously entrusted you with weeks ago to slip into his place. A little voice in your head tried in vain to talk sense into you. You should not be breaking into an FBI agent’s apartment.

If only should not was the same as did not.

He had his back to you and you took the opportunity to perch yourself on the edge of his bed, the shift in the mattress finally alerting him to your presence. He whirled around in alarm and instinctively tried to hide himself and the stolen underwear, already soaked in precum and wrapped around his erection. You tilted your head slightly, trying your best to hide a smirk. “I thought I heard you calling for me”

“I-no-I can explain,” he flushed a deep scarlet, his futile attempts to conceal his predicament were only making it worse and there was no way he could come up with a plausible explanation with your eyes on him. The panic rising in his chest swelled - the feeling that he had ruined everything starting to trigger an overwhelming urge to cry. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry”

You softened your gaze, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his thigh. “It’s ok, baby boy”

Just then, something changed. A switch flipped, a light came on, a natural dynamic fell into place. Very gently you took his hand, forcing him to uncover himself.

“Wouldn’t you rather the real thing?” With that you trailed his hand up your thigh and to your soaked core, letting him skim his fingers over the wetness between your legs and take in the notable lack of panties.

“I-uh-yes, but-” he stopped for a moment, searching deep within himself for a shred of courage before blurting out the rest. “I’m a virgin”

Much to his surprise, you didn’t even bat an eye, instead, you sunk down on your knees and ran your hands up his thighs. “Well then, we’d better make this extra special”

You replaced his hands, taking hold of his cock over the panties and setting in with a deliberate pace before running your tongue over his balls. You toyed with the soft flesh until you felt his thighs tremble and the whimpers he had been trying to suppress spilled from his lips. Once you were certain he had abandoned any sense of restraint you started to suck on his balls, relentlessly pulling him into your mouth and teasing him with your tongue. At this point he was incomprehensible, any words he might have said being carried away by the sobs working their way up his throat and the tears streaming down his face. Just when you were sure he’d come you retreated, pressing sloppy kisses down his thighs and removing your hands from his cock.

He whined. “Please, Mommy. Let me make you feel good.”

You pushed yourself up and into his lap, taking your shirt off in the process and cradling his face in your hands. “You think you can make Mommy come?”

He nodded into your chest, capturing a nipple into his mouth and instinctively sucking on it. You guided his hands to your waist and you lined yourself up with his tip, slowly sinking down and adjusting to his size. He gripped your waist tightly, willing himself not to come as he watched himself disappear into you. “All right then, let’s see if you can be a good boy.”

Spencer sprang into action, taking hold and bouncing you on his cock as he rutted into you. Simultaneously he continued to latch onto your breasts, littering your chest with marks. You dug your nails into his shoulders, feeling the tide of your release start to sweep you away. “Yes, just like that, baby. You’re being so good for me. So fucking good. My good boy.”

Just before you reached your peak, you threaded a hand in Spencer's hair and pulled him up to look at you. Those big brown eyes stared up at you, pupils dilated and vision hazy with lust. “I want you to come with me, baby. Right now.”

It was like nothing you had ever felt before, pure euphoria coursing through your veins and only amplifying when Spencer flooded you with his warm release. He gave a few more shallow thrusts, whimpering from the overstimulation before the two of you collapsed back onto the bed. You shifted slightly so you could hold him in your arms without separating, brushing his hair back behind his ear as he buried his face into your neck, now overcome with embarrassment over his actions. “I’m sorry, Mommy. I shouldn’t have taken your panties”

You tightened your embrace and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s ok, darling. I’m glad you did.”

---

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[jackrrabbit]

Clean /// Sakusa x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: [College dorm AU] Sakusa can’t stop thinking about you in the shower.

A/N: Indirectly inspired by @seita​ and @bakatenshii​, who made me think about soap and Sakusa’s cum in conjunction…thanks guys :P

Tags/warnings: masturbation, mild cleanliness fetish if that’s a thing?, Sakusa wants you and is in deep denial about it

It’s not like he started doing it on purpose. Not at first.

On weekdays, you wake up at the same time that Sakusa gets back from the gym: 7 AM exactly. He timed it that way because they clean the dorm bathrooms at 6:30—they’re still revolting, but they can’t be as bad as the ones at the gym. He can avoid touching the stall walls if he has to, and…he has to. 7 is the perfect time—even the students with 8 AM class can’t be fucked to wake up that early, so he gets the row of mirrors and stalls to himself.

Except for you.

Your room is right next to the stairwell; when Sakusa jogs up the stairs (two at a time, blood still pumping from his workout even though the sweat is already cooling on his back) he can hear your alarm through the thin wall. Always 7 on the dot: your phone blares an obnoxiously loud ringtone, there’s a muffled protest from you and your roommate curses at you to turn that shit off, it’s seven fucking AM. By the time he’s standing at the bathroom sink brushing his teeth, you’re usually pushing through the door in your pajamas, holding your towel in one hand and rubbing your puffy eyes with the other.

So it’s not like Sakusa plans this. It’s a coincidence. Mostly.

“G’morning…Kiyoomi.” You interrupt yourself with a yawn in the middle of the sentence. Your voice sounds heavy with exhaustion and he wonders, not for the first time, why you bother waking up so early. You don’t seem like a morning person.

The toothbrush is still in Sakusa’s mouth, so he just nods to greet you. You smile sleepily and then bend down to reach your bathroom locker, and—fuck, fuck, you’re wearing the shorts again, the threadbare cotton ones you wear whenever the weather gets a little warmer. They’re thin (so thin he can see the high cut of your panties underneath when they’re stretched over your ass, not that he’s looking), and they’re short.

Do you know how much you’re showing off when you bend over like that to rummage through your locker? You’re basically showing your ass off, the smooth muscle of your thighs rising up into those perfect cheeks, and between them, the dingy cotton stretched tight over your mound—

He’s not looking. He shouldn’t be looking. Sakusa lowers his gaze in the mirror to spit the toothpaste into the sink.

“Hey, can I borrow some of that?”

You’re standing at his elbow now, blinking up at him. Pleading. When he wordlessly hands over the tube, you grin, eyes crinkling up at the corners like he just offered to take your hand in marriage rather than letting you have some toothpaste that he wasn’t going to miss anyway. “Thanks! You’re the best.”

You barely know him. Sakusa’s pretty sure that these early-morning bathroom encounters are the only times you two interact.

“How was your workout?” you ask when you’re done brushing your teeth.

Sakusa has to grip the edge of the counter to tear his eyes away from you when you spit it out—white foam dribbling out of your mouth and down your chin—but that’s beside the point. “It was fine.”

“Yeah? Did you run or go to the gym?”

“Gym.” Why are you so curious? You’re too friendly.

You hum appreciatively, rubbing foamy circles of cleanser into your skin. The smell of it is light—floral, but barely. Lavender, maybe. That’s step one of your morning skincare routine, which Sakusa’s pretty certain he knows as well as you do by now. Next will be toner, and then you’ll save the rest for after your shower—but before you reach for the next little bottle in the row you’ve lined up on the bathroom counter, you turn toward him. “I should get back on a regular gym schedule too. Maybe one day I’ll go with you?”

“If you can wake up that early.” The remark must come out harsher than Sakusa intended, because you raise your eyebrows and your mouth drops open—but a second later you’re smiling again, turning back to the mirror so you can pat the toner into your skin.

“You’re probably right. I don’t know how you wake up at six in the morning every day.”

5:45, he wants to correct. But if he keeps talking to you, you’re going to notice he’s staring. So he just finishes washing his face without answering, puts his stuff back into the locker, and makes his way over to the shower stalls, leaving you and the scent of lavender behind.

There are five stalls. All open, of course. Second from the left has the best water pressure, and the one on the far right has a removable shower head and heats up the quickest. But Sakusa chooses the middle stall. For no reason. Not because he knows exactly which stall you’re going to pick, and he wants to be sure he’s in the stall next to yours when you do. He takes his time—undresses slowly, folding his dirty gym clothes even though they’re going straight into the laundry; sets his shampoo and conditioner and body wash out on the bench in the order that he’s going to use them; turns the knob to just the right angle to get the right temperature and waits for it to heat up until he can see the steam saturating the air.

By the time Sakusa’s under the water, massaging shampoo through his hair and feeling the sweat slough off his skin along with the shower spray, you’re done with your pre-shower skincare, padding over from the sinks to the stalls and picking—predictably—the one next to his. He has to strain himself to hear it over the sound of splashing water but he does hear it: your cheap pink flip-flops slapping against the tile floor, the relieved yawn in your breath as you stretch (you always stretch) and the soft rustling of fabric as you take off your clothes and deposit them in a heap on the bench.

Sakusa tilts his head up into the shower spray and feels the stray drops clinging to his eyelashes and wonders how much he’d be able to see if the walls were made of glass.

Today is Wednesday, and that means you’re going to wash your hair today because you always wash it on Wednesdays. Sakusa can already smell the shampoo you use filtering into the air. What is it? Sharper and more bitter than mint, medicinal almost—he’s considered asking you a few times what it is, but he can’t figure out a way to phrase the question.

Hey, (Y/N), tell me what product you use to wash your hair. Ever since I started jacking off in the shower to you, I can’t get off unless I’m smelling it.

That probably wouldn’t go over well.

Fuck, he’s already hard. The heat of the shower is nothing compared to the heat of his blood pumping down to his cock. Sakusa rinses through his hair quickly, freeing up his hands so he can palm his shaft and give it a tentative stroke.

Through the shower wall you give a light, soft sigh of appreciation, and Sakusa feels his cock jump in his hand. You prefer your showers hotter than he does—white puffs of steam are rising up over the gap between the stall divider and the ceiling, and you always come out flushed. The heat must feel nice, hm? He can almost see you, standing naked under the shower head in just your stupid pink flip-flops, letting rivulets of water drip down from the crown of your head to flow lower…over your shoulders, your back, your tits; your fingers lathering the shampoo through your hair, soap bubbles washing the grease away from you, draining away yesterday’s grime so you’re all fresh and squeaky clean.

You sigh again, and your voice is pushing out behind the breath. A moan, almost. Do you ever touch yourself in the shower? He’d be a hypocrite to think you shouldn’t be able to take advantage of this rare moment of privacy…it’s so hard to get time to yourself in the dorms, he can sympathize… So maybe you let your hands dip lower while you wash, shift your thighs apart so you can fit your fingers between them. Pet that puffy little cunt, push your fingers inside, feel your slick wash off in the water just to be replaced with more.

Sakusa wraps his fingers around his cock and slides his hand up the shaft, moving slowly so he can savor the light friction. Your hands would be soft, wouldn’t they? Softer than his. You don’t have calluses like he does—all that lotion you use must be doing you some good. And your hands are a lot smaller than his are…you’d probably have trouble getting one hand all the way around. You’d have to use both hands to hold him, hold his cock and pump him, jack him off…

If your hands are too small for him, what about your mouth?

The shower is so warm and you’re so close. Sakusa closes his eyes so he can breathe in that sweet medicinal smell and imagine you in here with him.

Your mouth. Soft lips, no makeup, just your natural color dampened from the water and your spit and his precum, closed around him, stretched around him to accommodate for the mass of his cock sitting in your mouth. Little pink tongue flicking out to tease the tip, lapping flat at the underside and then kissing it. You’d be a tease, a fucking tease. Looking up at him with those eyes, batting your eyelashes over your dewy-wet cheeks as you try to swallow him a little deeper. He’d tangle his fingers around the back of your head, push the strands of wet hair away from your face, pull your mouth up and down on his cock while the water splashes down around the two of you—

There’s a click of a cap popping shut and your shoes smacking wetly against the floor while you reach over to grab another bottle. You’re humming to yourself—a song Sakusa’s heard on his friends’ playlists and at parties but he doesn’t know the lyrics. Sometimes you sing in the shower (always softly, under your breath, so quiet he’d barely be able to hear if he wasn’t listening) but today you just hum. Maybe you’d sing out loud if he wasn’t there?

You’re probably being considerate to him...you do seem like the type. After all, you must be as aware of his presence three feet away from you as he is of yours. You probably think about him in the shower too.

Sakusa’s hips buck forward, pushing his dick through his hand as he pumps it with no real technique or rhythm, just trying to match the pace of his breathing to what he can hear of yours. The heat of his impending climax is coiling low in his belly, even though it hasn’t been long—it never takes long when he’s thinking about you. You’ve practically become a part of his own morning routine, to the point where he couldn’t even get off when he went home for spring break a few weeks ago. When the two of you move out of the dorms and go your separate ways, it’s going to be annoying. He should really stop this, wean himself off you while he can…not that he really wants to.

Your voice isn’t bad when you sing, but it’d be a lot better moaning his name.

People fuck in the showers. Sakusa knows that, he’s heard them himself and always been acutely disgusted at the filth of it all. Dorm bathrooms are notoriously foul—there’s a reason people wear shoes when they’re showering, and the thought of people actually fucking in here makes his skin crawl. But with you? He can see it, he can feel it—the soft fat of your thighs in his hands, skin dimpling under his grip as he holds you up; your arms twisted around his neck hugging into him; the hot water streaming over both of your bodies as his cock slaps into your pussy, burying into that tight wet heat.

Sakusa grits his teeth to stifle a groan and wonders if you heard it, and then he’s feeling around for the memory of your sleepy “Good morning, Kiyoomi” and warping your voice in his mind until he can almost hear your lips wrapping around his name, panting it, whimpering it, choking it out between pleas for him to fuck you harder—Kiyoomi, please, fuck me fuck me just like that, fuck my little pussy til I can’t walk straight Kiyoomi I need you!

God, he wants to hear it, he wants to say your name, wants you to know he’s jacking off to you. Sakusa’s hand speeds up and his hips are thrusting into his fist, the water making wet clicking noises every time his cockhead moves up past his fingers as he imagines fucking you right here in this shower. He’d make you cum, make you clench and tighten around him, make you wake up the entire goddamn floor with your screaming, and—fuck, he’s mouthing out the syllables, and then he can hear his own voice out loud and he’s saying your name—

“K-Kiyoomi?”

Your actual voice—lifted, high and clear as a bell ringing even stifled by the stall and the rushing water hits Sakusa and he flinches—and cums, cock jerking under his grip as the sticky white fluid shoots out to coat his hand. It’s good, so good, so fucking good, you said his name, you said it, fucking perfect—the release passes over him so forcefully that he has to hold his breath to bite back the stuttered hiss of pleasure from deep in his throat.

“Kiyoomi?” you ask again from the other stall, voice uncertain. “Did you say my name? I thought I heard you…”

It takes him a long moment to catch his breath, and another to work up enough control to straighten and raise his hand to the spray, letting the cum wash off his skin and down the drain in cloudy white trickles. “I didn’t.”

“Oh, sorry! Guess I imagined it.” You’re back to your cheerful self, humming that brainless melody and soaping yourself up without a care in the world. So gullible. Like always. And it’s not like Sakusa wanted to get caught, but…he can’t help wondering what you’d do if you knew.

Maybe you’d hate him. Maybe you’d call him a creep, stop showering when he does, avoid his gaze when you pass each other in the halls.

Or maybe you’d be into it.

Sakusa finishes his shower at the same time you do, so he can catch you just as you step out of the stall. “Oh—“ you start, barely keeping yourself from bumping into his chest. “Oops!”

Your face is stained pink from the heat of the shower…or maybe it’s the way you’re staring at his bare chest that’s making you blush. Sakusa’s not flattering himself—he knows he’s good-looking, knows what the years of athletics have done for him, and you are staring—but just for a moment before you catch yourself and right your gaze back up to his face, absently watching him towel off his hair. The fact that you let your eyes stray a little gives him permission to do the same, so he takes a moment to examine the lines of your shoulders, your soaked hair sticking to your neck, the dip of your cleavage under the fluffy white robe you’re wearing.

You smell good, all soft and wet and clean. Sakusa can’t help imagining if you taste that good, too.

“Um…s’cuse me,” you say after a moment when he doesn’t move to let you pass through the walkway. You could try to skirt around him, but he’s so big.

“What shampoo do you use?”

You blink and pat your hair self-consciously. “It’s, uh, tea tree oil? It has peppermint and lavender and stuff too I think, it’s really good for waking up in the morning—sorry, I know some people don’t like the smell—“

“No, it doesn’t bother me.” Sakusa’s eyes narrow before he steps out of the way to let you walk past.

I like it, he wants to add. But he doesn’t.

[high-supernatural]

The Beach

Kai Parker x Female Reader

Request: Sex on a beach, kind of rough yet soft.

Word Count: 2496

Warnings: Smuuuuut, lots of smut, dom!kai, mild hands tied

The MF friend group invited Kai and his best friend to stay at one of their family’s beach houses for the weekend as what they called a peace offering. They weren’t very friendly or welcoming of Kai from the moment they all met him, no matter how hard he tried to make things right with them. Kai’s best friend guilted them into feeling bad about rejecting him as he was trying to improve himself, so they decided to invite them both to their beach weekend to test how true it was and make peace from it.

All of the MF friends had their rooms picked out since they were kids. Kai, his best girl friend, and the Salvatore brothers were the only new ones without signature rooms to sleep in, so they all bunked in the old kids’ room that still had two sets of bunk beds.

“Great, agree to a beach weekend, get to bunk with a sociopath and his sidekick, and sleep in beds made for 12-year old’s… ‘oh sure, Damon, come to the beach it’ll be fuuuun,’ can’t see how this could go terribly wrong,” Damon ranted on about how unhappy he was with the arrangements.

Kai announced that he’d be taking the top bunk above his best friend, but that didn’t really matter because they both knew they’d end up in the same bed anyways. They did everything together, and that included both sleeping and causing immense sexual tension they were both too nervous to address with each other.

She tried to sleep in the bottom bunk alone but couldn’t fall asleep. Kai peaked his head from above to see if she was awake and found her with her eyes closed, so he poked her until she opened them.

“What,” she asked with scrunched brows.

“Come sleep with me,” he whined and dangled his hand over the railing with a strand of her hair attached.

She didn’t have to be begged, she immediately got out of her bed and climbed onto his, laying her head on his chest and played with his rings until they both fell asleep.

They both woke the next morning to a loud, dramatic exclamation of “oh, gross�� coming from Damon seeing them together.

She rolled onto her back and rubbed her eyes with one hand, “oh don’t be jealous just because you can’t get any, Damon,” she teased resulting in a fake gag in response.

Everyone got ready for the beach before breakfast.

She stood in a large two-sink bathroom after putting on a red bikini top and black shorts and started brushing her hair.

Kai walked in wearing shorts and a t-shirt, “that’s what you’re wearing to the beach?” she asked.

“Have you seen any ocean documentary on National Geographic? I’m not going in that water,” Kai joked and stood behind her, grabbing the brush from her hand to brush her hair for her.

When he was done, he placed the brush on the counter and went to attempt a ponytail again even though he has never succeeded at making a good one.

“You’d be better off putting sunscreen on me than trying to do my hair again,” she said as a joke even though she was serious.

Kai rolled his eyes, but he knew he couldn’t do hair anyways, so he reached onto the counter for the sunscreen and put some in his hands to rub on her back and arms as they fought with each other while she simultaneously tried to put her hair up.

Kai closed the sunscreen bottle, forgetting about her front side and her legs and started to walk out, “you missed a spot,” she spoke before he could turn around.

“You can get the rest, can’t you? You’re capable.”

She rolled her eyes and handed him the sunscreen bottle again. He started rubbing lotion on her stomach from behind, looking at her in the mirror until his movements got slower and he seemed lost in thought.

“What’r you thinking about?” she asked.

“Oh, you know…” the attention came back to Kai’s eyes as he looked up to meet her gaze in the mirror, “just about all the mixed signals you give me,” he trailed one of his hands up her torso to her neck and wrapped his hand around it, leaning in to whisper in her ear while not taking his eyes off hers.

“About how one day we’re besties and the next you want my hands all over you…”

She didn’t pull away. They both knew they wanted this, but neither of them would say anything until now.

Kai moved his other hand to the waist of her shorts as he did a once over with his eyes at her in the mirror before returning his gaze back to hers, “so which one is it today,” he asked in a dark tone.

She was at a loss for words. They’ve been intimate together in ways such as seeing each other naked after one got out of the shower or making out because they were bored, but they’ve never been this straightforwardly intimate.

After her silence, Kai trailed the hand he placed on her waistband to cup one of her breasts and tightened the grip around her throat, “is this what you want?” he asked harshly, “you want my hands all over you?”

Her breath hitched as she tried to breath to say something. Kai moved his hand from her breast and slipped it under her shorts, removing the hand around her throat to replace the one that left her chest.

He massaged her breasts roughly, nibbling on her neck as he rubbed soft circles over her clothed core, resulting in soft moans disguised as breaths.

“Just say the words,” Kai said before he shifted his attention to the other side of her neck, “do you like my hands all over you?”

“Yes,” she whispered softly before Kai removed himself from touching her, “that’s too bad,” he whispered and kissed her on the cheek before leaving and announcing from the other room, “we’re heading down in 10, hurry and get ready.”

She stood dumbfounded and clumsily finished getting ready.

When they got to the beach, they all set up their own tents to lay in. Her and Kai were the only ones not wanting to get in the water, so they laid in the sand while the others walked around elsewhere.

She fell asleep laying on her towel in the sand with her shorts unbuttoned and sunhat over her face. Kai couldn’t help but stare at her almost the whole time thinking about how it felt to touch her that morning.

When he couldn’t refrain from it anymore, he took the hat from off her face and woke her up.

“You forgot to put sunscreen on your legs,” he excused.

“Ok, so?” she barked.

He toyed with the string on the front of her bikini top that was keeping it from falling off, “so… you should get in the tent and let me put sunscreen on your legs…” he said nervously.

“Oh, ‘put sunscreen on me’, huh?” she air quoted him and pretended to be annoyed before crawling into the tent anyways.

Kai got in behind her and zipped it up behind him.

She sat with her legs crisscrossed and opened a bag of candy while she looked at her phone. The only thing he could think about was untying the top that was barely hiding anything and how gorgeous her hair looked in her messy ponytail, he always loved her hair.

He sat on his knees in front of her and rubbed both his hands up either side of the inner parts of her thighs.

She looked up from her phone and put a piece of candy in her mouth, “I didn’t hear you get any sunscreen, kid,” she teased.

Kai moved her phone and the bag behind him and brought his face close to hers, moving his hands farther up her thighs, “we both know I didn’t wake you up because of sunscreen.”

He closed the gap between their lips and pulled the string that held her bikini together in the front, exposing her breasts before he pulled away from her face to watch himself toy with one of her nipples.

“Who wants their hands all over who now, huh?” she teased again.

Kai grabbed her bikini top and both of her wrists and began to tie them together, “not me,” he smirked.

He moved his hand under her knee to uncross her legs so he could sit between them as he laid her down and she reached to place her tied up hands on his waistband, “too bad I can still touch you then,” she continued to tease.

He put one hand back to her throat as the other met underneath her shorts again, “I can make that change,” he spoke harsh again.

“Yeah, how you gonna do that?” she breathed out.

He snuck two fingers underneath the fabric she was wearing to feel her bare core, “by making you feel so many things you forget you even have hands,” he responded ominously before removing his hands to pull all the fabric she was wearing off of her legs and pushed them open.

He held one of her knees firmly to his side so she was fully open to him and began to tease her by rubbing her core so soft that she could barely notice, but she felt every graze.

He inserted two fingers into her and wasted no time curling and pumping them in and out, “I’ve always wondered how good you taste,” he bit at her thigh and started pumping at an incomprehensible speed.

She choked on her own moans because of how sudden the pace was and tried to stifle them by covering her mouth with her hands to which she was met with Kai pulling her arms back down to lay in front of her torso, “I want to see your face dying with discomfort because you know you can’t make a sound…” he watched her face scrunch as she stifled her moans, “I want to watch your chest bounce while your arms push them together…”

He continued pumping at this speed as he leaned to bite at her neck, “but don’t worry, if you can’t be quiet, I’ll just put something in your mouth to make you quiet,” he whispered.

He trailed his mouth down to her core, leaving bites and hickeys on the way before roughly sucking and flicking her soft spot with his tongue. He noticed when she tried to cover her mouth again and quickly grabbed her ties to hold her arms in place.

She pulled at his hair and moved her hips around in attempt to be quiet. He noticed when she was getting close and made sure to hold her wrists tighter as she threw her head back and was barely able to quiet her orgasm.

Kai kept sucking, causing her to close her thighs around him as he kept pushing and holding them back open until she was about to reach her second orgasm. Right before she was on the edge, he pulled away and replaced his mouth with his thumb to watch her face as he wrapped his hand around her throat again.

“I want to watch your face struggle to breath and quiet yourself at the same time,” he teased and watched intently as her face turned red from the lack of circulation. Before she almost passed out, she reached the edge and Kai removed his hand from her throat at the exact moment, causing her to moan loudly as she felt an intense sudden release all over her body and gasped for air.

She didn’t care this time, she needed to let it out.

Kai grabbed a bunch of her hair and pulled her to sit on her knees by it, “you better hope nobody heard that,” he unbuttoned his shorts, “you’ll never hear the end of what a sleaze you are,” he whispered and sat on his knees to kiss her by pulling her face up by her hair and grabbed her hands to touch his stomach.

She trailed her hands down his stomach until they almost reached his member before he forcefully pulled her face from his and pushed her mouth down to put her lips around it.

He sat back on his knees with one arm propping him up and ordered for her to put her ass in the air while she sucked.

Kai didn’t care if anyone heard him, he moaned like they were the only ones on the beach and grabbed a fistful of her hair again to move her head at a speed he liked.

“Oh my god--- how do you feel so good,” he groaned and twitched, “I bet your pussy feels a whole lot better,” he whispered and continued to fuck her face.

He started to twitch more, and his movements got more shaky, “I want to fill you up from both ends like the slut you are,” he spoke roughly before finishing in her mouth and pulling her head up to look at her sweaty, teary face.

He pulled himself up to move behind her where she had her ass up like he told her to do and spread her legs farther apart, pushing her back down to arch it before inserting himself into her.

He pulled her up by the back of her arms so his chest was against her back and snaked a hand around to her throat, using the other to pull her hair back onto his shoulder as he made slow but deep thrusts, hitting her spot each time as she struggled to breath.

“If I would have known you’d feel this good I would have taken advantage of this a long time ago,” he whispered in her ear, “I don’t know how you’re so perfect in every way… your pussy is the best thing I’ve ever felt…”

He moved his hand from her throat to rub circles around her clit as he thrusted faster.

She couldn’t contain her moans, so he shoved the bottoms of her bikini into her mouth and moved her face to lay at the bottom of the tent with her ass up as she unsuccessfully stifled moans of both pain and pleasure until they both finished again.

He finished with deep thrusts until they both collapsed and laid next to each other trying to catch their breath as she set herself free.

Kai sat up just enough to turn her face to his, “I don’t want anyone else to be able to have that except me,” he spoke.

“Well, you’re just full of wants today, aren’t you?” she breathed.

“Promise me,” he whined.

“What am I, your girlfriend or something?”

“Please,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes, “I promise.”

[hollandsmushroom]

That Was Hot

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

AU: Frat!Tom

Word Count: 2,356

A/N: Um, this is pure filth and it came to me when I watched How To Get Away With Murder and Asher said that was hot like i want you to sit on my face hot and I couldn’t get it out of my head. 

Warnings: Drinking, Drunkenness, unwanted Sexual advances, jealousy, face sitting, oral(fem receiving), cum eating, cum play, dry humping, frat boys. 

You weren’t drunk, tipsy? Sure, but drunk? No. Your words were clear as ever but your aim was a little wonky as you stood across the table from the two frat boys who you recognized but did not know the name of. You saw your boyfriend walking up to you, always loving to watch you do literally anything and destroying his frat bros at beer pong was one of his favorite things. The boys you were up against were blatantly waisted, their aim probably already off with how much alcohol was coursing through their veins, you were confident that you were gonna win. 

“We so got this” One boy slurred to the other, putting a hand up for a high five, receiving nothing but a brush of pinkys as his teammate almost entirely missed his hand. 

A smile grew on your lips as you watched the interaction, and untamed laughter passing your friends lips causing you to follow suit, hunching over as laughter gripped your sides, it was a drunk laugh, messy and uninhibited. Tom’s eyes were trained on you as he watched you fall apart, he knew your reaction was overstated but he didn’t care, he just loved seeing you happy.  

“What's so funny?” one of the boys inquired incredulously, his words prompting you to eye your friend again, still biting back laughter at the boy's childish response and lack of self awareness.  You both knew how this was gonna go, both confident in your ability to win, so why not have some fun while you're at it. 

“Just you guys thinking you’re gonna win” you taunted, only riling the rowdy frat boys up even more. You held the ping pong ball, flicking your fingers, tossing the feather light ball up and catching it without even looking, it was your silent tease, a taunt of challenged masculinity. One of the boys leaned forward, placing his stubby nailed hand on the beat up ping pong table, which at this point seemed to be held up together with duct tape and the spite of broke college students. There was a snarl wound tight on his lips. 

“If you’re so sure that you’re gonna win, why don't you back up your words then,” his voice was angry, and in your periphery your could see Tom about to come over and tell the guy off for talking to you like that but with a quick glance you told him that you got it, and he respected your wishes, maintaining his stance but a little more defensive now. “If I win, then fine, you beat us, but if we win, you have to do something that you really don’t want to do” You almost cackled, his inebriation limiting his ability to even come up with something to torment you with.  

“Kissing you it is then” you spoke, your voice a sugar coated venom. You tried to hold your persona but you knew that you had bothered Tom, his body tensing even more than it had after the boys taunts. You felt his hardened gaze training on you, his face twisted into the visual representation of and angry “What the fuck?” not thrilled with even the slightest possibility of your lips on someone else's. But you both knew that if you did lose the fame, a fist would sooner come in contact with that face than your lips on his. You knew that even though his eyes conveyed anger there was part of him that was proud, a small smirk tugging on his lips, appreciating the witty remark that belittled his frat brother. You turned all the way to him, giving him a warm smile, bringing your hand to your lips, placing a kiss on your palm before pursing your lips and blowing it Tom’s way, winking as his anger melted entirely and a soft smile replaced the smirk. Turning back to the boy you spoke up again, ignoring the angered look on the boy opposite yous face “I’ll play better if I am playing not to kiss you, let's get this over with” acting like you were exhausted by the notion of actually playing the game, you weren’t, in fact you were excited, thrilled by the idea of of crushing these boys machismo.  

You tossed the ball, watching as it floated through the air, barely denser than the atmosphere that surrounded it. The tension evaporated as you sank the first shot, a groan sounding from the boys mouths as you and your friend cheered. One of your opponents took the ball out of the cup, drinking down the tepid beer before setting up his shot. He over shot any of the cups by at least a foot, you caught it easily, placing it in your friend's hand so she could make her shot, and she did, easily landing it in the cup and leading the other boy to have to drink as well. The game continued this way, you and your friend absolutely obliterating the two boys.

You held your breath as you took the final shot, knowing that you would still have opportunities to try again but you really just wanted to get it over with so you could return to Tom’s arms. The shot sinking into the cup, an excited shout leaving your lips as you jump up and down, high fiving your friend. Tom smiled as he saw your true joy, thrilled that the simplest possibility of you kissing someone else was no longer on the table, the only thing left being most of the cups of beer on your side of the table. 

“Hey” the frat boy that you would have kissed if you lost spoke up, quickly moving to your side of the table and standing all too close. His breath was hot and sticky, heavy with the alcohol that was tainting every pore in his body. He reached out moving to touch your face but you stepped back. “I know we lost but I still want that kiss” he was pressing you up against the table. 

“Um, no thank you, that was the punishment” you spoke fiercely, trying to hide the fear that was growing in your chest. The boy went to open his mouth again but was cut off as a hand was placed on his chest, pushing him away from you. 

“Back off mate, leave with whatever fucking dignity you got left, and don’t you fucking dare try to touch my girl again, we clear?” Tom's voice was harsh, every word he spoke he pushed the boy farther and farther away from you, poking him in the chest with his final words to emphasize the point. 

“Um, yeah, yeah we clear” the boy exclaimed, tense under Tom’s piercing gaze. 

“Good, now fuck off” Tom growled, stepping back to let the boy scuttle off to where ever the fuck, you didn’t care and Tom only hoped that it was far away. Turning back to you, Tom cupped your cheek with his hand, letting you nuzzle into his palm. "Fucking cunt" he muttered under his breath. 

“You okay, baby?” his voice was much softer than it had been when he spoke to the frat boy, it made you feel cherished. 

“Yeah, baby, I am okay” you hummed “I just kicked ass at beer pong, I’m feeling pretty good” he leaned in, kissing your nose softly. 

“You did so good baby, it was hot watching you beat them, like I want you to sit on my face hot” his words were heavy, laden with libido and the promise of a good time. Your eyes widened at his brashness, sending a jolt straight to your core, a rushed nod seizing your neck, prompting him to grab your hand, guiding you through the muddle of people, up to his room, passing couples with tongue in each other's throats, messes of red solo cups and lust. The final flight of stairs was short, not intended for the attic to be a room, but here you were, your hand wound with Tom’s as you stood in the A slanted den. 

There was a pull on your hand, dragging you down onto the large mattress, the wooden frame creaking at the sudden weight of two tangled bodies on it. You landed on top of him, the soft unkempt blankets shifting beneath your knees as Tom’s hands gripped your ass, pulling you as close to him as possible, your clothed core dragging across his covered cock. 

“Tommy” you moaned into his mouth, his hands on your ass continuing to rock your hips against his, the friction not something you knew you needed. Right as you thought things were getting to it Tom pushed you back, a confused look cementing on your face as you watched him.

“Take your trousers and pants off, Love, was serious about wanting you on my face” he smirked at your lust stricken features, immediately removing your bottoms leaving you bare, the dim light from Toms’s bedside lamp catching on the slickness between your thighs, glistening and making Tom’s mouth water. “C’mere” he elbowed himself up, grabbing you by the ass and pulling you back onto him, this time your core ending hovering above his eager tongue.

“Tom, I need you” you whimpered, feeling his breath on your heat. He didn’t dignify you with a response, simply shoving his face between your folds, lips wrapping around your clit eliciting a moan from you. You found yourself beginning to grind against his mouth, feeling his cheeks move against your thighs, presumably into a smirk 

His hands wound around your waist, pulling you down on top of him, the added pressure of his hold pressing you farther onto his tongue, his nose nudging your clit as he lapped at your core, drinking you up like he hadn’t had a drink in years. His teeth grazed your folds, a shiver running up your spine, grinding farther down onto his face, fingers wound around his curls, tugging at it from the roots, a moan escaping his lips and vibrating through your core. He ground helplessly into the heated air, his hard cock begging for friction, the tip poking out of his waistband, leaking precum onto his lower stomach. He needed something. 

Tom twisted his hips, holding you tight against his face, he flipped you over, your back landing flat against the worn sheets, your head delving into the pillows. Tom now laid on his stomach, immediately grinding his hips against the bed, giving his dick the friction it had been yearning for, wanting to feel any kind of touch, desperate for release. His hip bones became exposed as the gyration of his hips pulled his jeans down a little more, exposing his shaft further. The harshness of the fabric against his contrasting to what he normally felt, it was nothing like the velvety muscled lined walls of your tight cunt, not comparing to the tight grip of your hand, and subpar compared to your mouth, but then again, everything that wasn’t you was a downgrade in his mind. 

“Fuck” he moaned into your heat, pressing his cock farther into the mattress, knowing that the feeling was building up more rapidly than he would like to admit. He knew he shouldn't. He knew that it would push him over the edge to look up at you but he couldn’t resist. His mouth not leaving your pussy he dragged his eyes up your body, toffee colored eyes widening as they fell upon your face twisted in pleasure, your hands gripping at your breasts and pinching your nipples. It broke something animalistic in him, bringing a hand from your ass and smacking yours away, aggressively groping the soft mounds of flesh and pinching your nipples. 

“Tommy, I’m go-gonna cum” you cried, your back arching helplessly off the bed, your thighs clamping shut around Tom’s heads, only resulting disappointment was that he couldn’t fully hear your moans, but he say your face as you fell apart under his tongue and it sent him with you. He moaned loudly into you, cock twitching against his shorts as he came onto his stomach and the bedsheets. 

Once you had both ridden out your highs he pulled away, looking up at you eagerly, meeting your gaze, your eyes carrying a similar longing to the one that was in his. 

“Fuck Tommy, you felt so good,” you panted, your praising words causing a smile to take his thin lips. “I want you in me Tommy” your voice sultry, having maintained more of your breath. 

“I want that too love but I um,” he scratched the back of his neck, tearing his gaze from yours and down to his cum smeared abdomen. 

“Oh, I see, you got off on eating me out, didn’t ya baby boy” you teased, grinning at your bashful boyfriend, pride awakening in your chest that you had caused him to cum without even touching his cock. You were amused with the embarrassment in his red cheeks. 

“Uh, yeah, I’m really sorry, love” 

“Hmm, that's okay I guess, I’ll just have a different kind of treat” you shrugged, knowing what you were about to do would have the repercussions you so desired, it would leave you full in more ways than one, cum dripping down your legs as you slept, you knew what you were doing. 

Your fingers dance on his flushed skin, gathering his cum on you fingers and bringing them to your lips, sticking out your tongue like he had done earlier, smearing it across your taste buds before leaning into his face, licking at that slickness that was dripping down his chin, the combined taste of your cums in your mouth making you hum. You licked over his lips, giving him a bit of a taste of the treat that resided between your lips before closing them, swallowing the rest. He licked his lips eagerly, eyes rolling back as your spunks mixed together, feeling the blood already starting to rush south once again, his refractory period dramatically shortened by your actions.

“On second thought, I think I can go for some more” he growled.

@spydeysense

[togetherweflyhigh]

Chronicles Of Owning A Hybrid| Chapter 1: Here You Are

Pairing: Ragdoll Hybrid! Yoongi x Owner! Female Reader 

Genre: Hybrid AU, slow burn, eventual romance

Trigger Warnings: Brief mentions of past harassment/bullying, brief mentions of being gaslighted

W/C: 2.2k 

A/N: So, I wrote something. This was very spontaneous of me but this is my first BTS and hybrid related fic. I very much have plans to have this as a small series. From short to long chapters. I have no idea how much this will be updated. 

Comments and kudos are encouraged! 

It wasn’t supposed to happen, truthfully.

You were asked by a friend to attend a consultation with them because they felt nervous about going in alone. They needed some support so, going with them was going to be fine. Because that’s all that was supposed to happen. 

Now, here you were at your appointment, alone because you weren’t sure how to ask your friend since they were home still getting associated with their hybrid. Nobody knew you were here doing this. Reviewing over a cat hybrid- a Ragdoll- that was on his fourth strike. 

Past families that adopted this hybrid before only saw the breed he was. A pretty Ragdoll cat. Not the human he mostly presented as. They thought that just because he was mixed with a Ragdoll meant he would be gentle, calm, and sociable. A known cat breed to be perfect with families. What they got was the complete opposite.

The most they seemed to be able to tell you was he’d been adopted four times already, the longest housing being six months. He was quiet and didn’t interact much with the other hybrids in the shelter. Mostly stayed in the same areas in the room they had for them. The way they spoke about him, made you think they were trying to discourage you from adoption. You couldn’t see what was so wrong with him even when they were describing him as distant and antisocial, overall unfriendly. It still didn’t make you rethink it for some reason. Something in you wanted to give him a place to call home after hearing all this.

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

A few weeks went by with no word from the shelter. You were starting to think the extra shifts for the past month and a half at work for preparation were in vain. Perhaps they were being more cautious of his strikes and worried you would return him like all the others. If it was, for this reason, you really couldn’t blame them to be picky about who was to attempt adopting him next. You could only hope they cared so much for those in their care.

As you washed some dishes that had been a bit overdue, your phone rang. You weren’t quick to answer, at first, as hope had gone from high to low in the few weeks. Though, you still dried your hands-off because it could have been work. Who knew you’d be seeing the number you’d familiarize yourself with. Your heartbeat must have doubled as you stumbled over, sliding the answer button. “H-Hello?” You answered, cringing over your nervous voice. “This is Hope’s Shelter calling for (Y/N)(L/N), we were wondering if you were still interested in adopting?” The words felt like they were going through one ear and out the other. You weren’t all too sure what to expect when answering the call but hope had suddenly being reassured. “Yes, of course!” You answered almost too quickly. The eagerness felt as if it was spilling out of you at this point. “Great! Would Thursday be fine for you to come in?” It was currently Monday, another few days was nothing to wait for after these weeks. “That works out perfectly.” 

After the short goodbyes were said, you stood there in your kitchen nearly dumbfounded. You were officially days away from adopting a hybrid. Suddenly, the mixed feeling of excitement and worry came over you. The first week was only filled with thoughts of not living in your apartment alone anymore. In the past, you had roommates. Some worked out just fine and others not so much. To the point, you never wanted to experience them again unless it was a close friend. 

The second week was filled with doubts of if you even seemed worthy enough to take care of another, especially when the other couldn’t exactly take care of themselves. Hybrids didn’t have much freedom. They couldn’t go anywhere alone without their owners. Unless they were service hybrids, which there was a lot to go through to get them certified. They really couldn’t do anything and suddenly thinking about that, you realize how weird it’s going to be for someone to call or to even refer to you as their ‘owner’ will be. 

There was no way in hell you could treat hybrids as a pet. They were way more human than human and capable of feelings of understanding, not at all saying normal animals weren’t capable of such. There were a few times you’d gone over to a friend’s house and they introduced you to their hybrid. Sure they had some traits of the animal they were mixed with, but they acted like their human part in front of you for the most part. This was nearly the only time you’d interacted with hybrids. So, the experience was on the low of how they truly acted behind closed doors.

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

The few days of waiting went by sluggishly. Mentally you had a list of things to do or things you thought you needed to do before Thursday. You went out and bought a few different types of clothes, not much as you had no idea of what he would like. Bought more food than you’d ever stocked your home with before, again, not knowing what he would like. There was so much you didn’t even know about him yet, not even his name.

Standing in front of the shelter, the weeks and days of waiting were finally over. The nerves and enthusiasm had mellowed out in the slow waiting days. Though, you couldn’t help feel a little nervous walking into the shelter.

Almost immediately, you were pulled into an office to go over some paperwork. It was nearly the same as papers to adopt a normal animal. It didn’t seem as strict since you didn’t need things for an animal. Though, you were surprised at how they didn’t seem so… disheartening towards you anymore.

Signing the papers felt unreal as the pen glided across the paper. You had officially adopted a hybrid.

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

Being a hybrid wasn’t all it was cut out to be, at least, not for Yoongi. Spending nearly all his life in the shelter. Maybe a year and a half were in actual homes. It was probably not even that if he was being honest with himself, but after the third home, he stopped counting the days and hoping.  

The first time he was adopted, he was around ten years old, a little old for being adopted but nothing too bad. The family was looking for a hybrid around their twin son and daughter’s age, and Yoongi just happened to be two years younger than them. It was perfect they thought. It seemed like a happy family a month in but there was change. The children were constantly harassing him, pulling his ears and tail, pressured him to do things that would get the adults involved to the point of punishments. 

It went on for months before they returned him, saying he was a deceiver and untameable. Yoongi was unsure of what they meant by this as it was their children who were the liars. Even when he told the caregivers of the time he had with them, it never seemed like they thought he was telling the truth either.

It was some years before Yoongi was adopted again. Age thirteen going on fourteen. He was adopted by a young couple. Must have been between the ages twenty-two to twenty-five. He never got around to asking because as soon as he was there he was brought back. The couple seemed to want to prove to themselves that they could take care of another breathing being. That is what he gathered by overhearing them a few times. All it did was tear them apart in the end over disagreements on how to take care of him.

The next two times were practically the same. One was lonely while the other was another person trying to prove something to themselves. Yoongi was done with these humans and their selfish ways. He didn’t want to attempt to get close with them anymore when he knew that they would return him like a replaceable item in the end. 

Yet, another was trying to adopt him again. ‘I’m too old for this.’ He thought to himself when he was dragged into the office to be told someone was interested in him. Being twenty-five years old as a hybrid was considered old. Unadoptable. Plus he was on his fourth strike. A fifth- and by law- would mean he would have to be put to sleep. 

The weeks dragged on because of him constantly denying to see through with this person’s desire to adopt him. It was an actual decision between life and death. He thought about it though. Would he rather be stuck in here? Wasting away inclosed in white walls or to live out in the world just a little bit longer, if the person would let him out that was.

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

The introduction of you and the hybrid, who you now knew as Yoongi was, well, short and awkward. Was it to be expected? The short answer is yes. Yoongi seemed unfazed and distant right away which, in a way, you know he would be like this. The real question was, was he always going to be like this. You were new to each other, so feeling like strangers was going to be present for a while. 

The taxi ride home was silent. Nothing but the sound of wheels on the pavement with random songs playing on the radio softly. You wanted to make some kind of conversation with Yoongi, you did, but with awkwardness still lingering heavily in the air, it was difficult to start with anything. It was interesting to spot his ears out of the corner of your eye, twitching ever so often.

The climb up the stairs was just as silent. Nothing but the taps of feet with some huffs from you nearly the top. No matter how many times you’d walked up these four flights of stairs, you were sure to always be out of breath before reaching your door. 

By the time you reached your door, you were indeed out of breath, and with the last huff, you pulled out your key unlocking the door, pushing it open revealing the seemingly small apartment. “And home.” You spoke out as you began pulling your shoes off, placing them on a rack before slipping into house slippers. “Oh, here’s some slippers for you. If you want to wear them.” You already owned some for when you had guests but you went ahead and bought new ones specially for Yoongi. Looking at them now, they seemed a bit… small. Though it didn’t seem to matter as Yoongi slipped off the shoes the shelter provided and ignored the slippers. 

“I have a room for you ready.” You spoke again after a moment of silence. Seems silence between you two was something you were going to have to get used to. Walking through the kitchen and living area- either side had a room the same size. Though the room to the right used to be your storage and office space, you were able to move things around in your room for your desk and got rid of some stuff you’ve been meaning to. Now the once-office turned back to a bedroom. It was pretty bare besides the matching wood bed and dresser you’d bought.

Moving aside to the doorframe, allowing Yoongi in the room to inspect it. His eyes never seemed to stop taking in things. His ears moved with him as he looked around and his tail was low as the tip curled to one side. 

As he took in the new home, you took in his unique hair color. It was probably the Ragdoll genes but the contrast between his hair and the fur on his ears and tail were a bit different. His hair was silver-grey and as for the fur, it was a bit lighter in the same color. You wondered for a moment if his DNA was manipulative to make the animal features stand out more but you quickly shook the thought away. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable even though it was just a thought. 

“There’s some clothes in the dresser. I wasn’t sure what you like so, there are a few things in the dresser. Just for until we go shopping.” The response you got was nothing but an ‘mhm’. Yoongi seemed uninterested but curious about the clothes you’d gotten. He wanted to know if it was the type they would get him. Well-fitted ones that rubbed and itched all over. As he pulled them out, sure enough, there were the ones he knew he would find but as he kept pulling out and unfolding the clothes he found some that were baggy and much softer. Something about watching him digging through the clothes felt endearing and it showed on your face with a small smile on your lips.

As you turned away to allow him to have some privacy you wondered to yourself what Yoongi would want to have for dinner. 

[angeli-marco-writes]

Tom Hiddleston - Stripped Sunday

A/N & WC - I came up with this concept ages ago and only just got around to writing it, though it’s slightly short. I do not know Tom, nor do I claim to. 2k.

Warnings - Swearing (that's now just a given), definitely suggestive and nsfw but nowhere near explicit, just mentions of sex, nudity too. And unknowing exhibitionism I guess? 16+

Summary - Sunday's are always the best, especially when you and Tom walk around the house nude, but it's been a while. Too long a while. So, obliviously, you take matters into your own hands...

THOMAS WILLIAM HIDDLESTON IS A SIMPLE MAN, believe it or not. He likes meals he can cook in fifteen minutes, he likes his tea with only a splash of milk, he likes the simple pleasures of nature. He likes morning runs and evening walks, re-watching movies he’s seen a dozen times, cuddles on a cold night. But most of all, he likes it when you walk around nude.

It might just be the one singular thing in the great mystery of life that is inexplicable to him, the one thing he enjoys so bloody much he daren’t speak of it, lest he risk losing it. Just the sight of your beautiful body keeps him up night after night after night when he’s working away, plotting and planning ways to ensure he never forgets it for the second he returns home. He can’t even begin to explain the things it does to him.

So, he set up a Stripped Sunday, with the basic premise that you both have to walk around in your birthday suits all day. It’s essentially his unique, perverse, inventive way of seeing you naked all day once a week. Not every Sunday, naturally, but just on occasion, when he’s not working, he’ll jot it down on the calendar. Nothing too glaring, in case someone catches a glimpse of his calendar, but just scribbling down a winky face in a Sunday space, and you know what you’re in for.

In all honesty, you love it just as much as he does. It’s hard not to. Seeing him walking around the house with not a scrap of clothing on all day does things to you you’ve never been able to put your finger on—or his. If you were to get pregnant, Stripped Sundays would be the culprit with the amount that the two of you shag in a single day. And he always seems to have another round in the bank to wake you the morning after, hungover on dripping lust.

However, it’s been far too long without one of these days, you think to yourself. And you know that there are no plans for the day, seeing as there’s nothing in the diary or the calendar, where—upon Tom’s own decree—all arrangements have to be written down. Seeing as you and Tom have a somewhat secret relationship, one certainly sheltered from the press, and no one knows you’re together, let alone live together, keeping all plans written down is imperative. His work meetings are always good reasons for you to get out of the house for a few hours.

Today, however, Tom seems to have made a mistake. Today’s meeting utterly slipped his mind, and he completely forgot to tell you, let alone jot it down, that he was having a casual meeting with a few co-stars to discuss future production of some sort—of what, he was entirely unsure, since this was texted about weeks ago, now. Nothing too major, though.

Logically, Tom thought that, with how late you were currently sleeping, and how much you enjoy your lie-ins, he’d be wrapped before you woke up, and even if that wasn’t to be the case and you wake up, that you’d have the sense to dress, or even call for him at the very least, before going downstairs.

You aren’t so lucky.

—

Waking up to an empty bed is never much fun. Usually if Tom wakes up before you, he’ll only slip out to put the kettle on, or fetch a new book to read from the library while he waits for you to stir naturally… that is if he isn’t waking you up in other, more pleasurable ways. At most, if he does have plans and doesn’t want to wake you after a late night, he’ll leave you a lovely note, a voicemail, and a thermal mug of tea.

Today, however, you can smell the coffee machine on—no wonder after the late, and rather energetic night you had—and hear the machine whirring, signalling that Tom likely hasn’t long been awake. That’s when the gears begin to turn and your plan begins to formulate, a completely devious idea that creeps into your mind and quirks your lips into a smirk. No matter how enticing the idea to nuzzle back into the pillows is, your need for Tom is overpowering your clawing need for sleep, especially with your primal instincts telling you he’s within grabbing distance, his aftershave still on the sheets you’re wrapped in. So, you strip his shirt, now perpetually appropriated by you, off and get out of bed, stretching as you go, beginning to make your way downstairs.

“What’s that?” Tom hears someone ask.

Not hearing your footsteps on the squeaky stairs over the whirring of the coffee machine and the layered discussions, including his own laughter, he simply replies, “Probably the dog.”

You, however, aren’t lucky enough to hear this brief conversation before your bare feet land on the cold hardwood floor, sending chills throughout you that don’t seem to even mildly combat the overwhelming heat building all throughout you. With just a few more steps, keeping your footing light and avoiding Bobby’s various chewies and toys littered all over the floor, you’re entering the kitchen in nought but your birthday suit. Utterly, completely in the buff.

“Morning baby,” you call out, yawning, your eyes fluttering shut, your jaw wide.

Except, instead of the warm embrace and slatherings of kisses that you expect to receive, or even a simple “Good morning, Princess,” you’re welcomed with a deadly silence, a stillness you can’t quite comprehend.

Your eyes fly open in shock, opening to see three people, mildly familiar faces, with mouths agape and eyes wide, sitting around the breakfast bar with mugs between their hands. Tom looks as stunned as you’ve ever seen him, over by the coffee machine, his hands trembling. With a fixed gaze of his baby blue eyes, so piercingly alarmed, he looks you up and down, his eyes blazing over your nude form, his kissable mouth practically watering at the mere sight of you.

That’s before it clicks with him, the dire situation, and alarm bells begin to blare inside his head, causing him to jump into action. Almost instantly, he’s pulling his shirt off his strong arms and muscular torso with lithe fingers, and is tugging it over your head, covering your naked torso.

You can already feel the blush on your cheeks, your skin burning from the bruised base of your throat to the pierced tips of your ears, the blood in your veins rushing around so violently that it drowns out any other comments or noise within the room, within the situation, but you’re brought back to reality when Tom’s strong, callused hands fall to your arms, clasping the flesh before he’s all but lifting you off the tiled floor and steering you back out of the room. It snicks shut behind you, but all you can focus on is the kiss he gives you, slanting his thin lips over yours so intoxicatingly that you’re able to forget your humongous disaster, if only for a second. There’s an emptiness the second he stops kissing you, and you’re able to hear the previously shut out gossip from inside.

“Sweetheart, what the hell was that?” he commands, his tone soft.

Despite the austere authority he so naturally demands in a room, he doesn’t sound angry whatsoever. If anything he’s just a little exposed, his private home life revealed to people when he wasn’t in the least bit prepared for once in his lifetime, with a definite undertone of irritation, mostly that he can’t have his way with you instantly. His blood is roaring, his stomach an explosion of swarms of butterflies, his core pulsating. He can’t tear his eyes away from you, even now you’re covered, your hardened nipples poking through the fabric.

“I— I saw the calendar was empty, I wanted to impress you, have a nice Sunday because it’s been so long,” you confess, shuffling your feet on the floor, unable to meet his blue gaze boring into you, “I’ve felt… distant from you recently, you’ve been working so much. I don’t know,” you shift anxiously, tugging on his shirt wrapped around you, “I love you, I didn’t wanna lose you. I thought you’d like it.”

“Baby,” he says, “I love you and this so so much. Of course I like it!”

You let out a feeble cry against his chest, his arms knotting around you and tugging you into his chest in one swift movement. His hugs, the way he holds you and cradles you, always make you feel better, no matter what your troubles may be.

You sniffle a little, “Really?”

Any trace of hardness in his face just dissipates and is replaced with sympathy, empathy, love.

“I truly wish I could take you right now, Darling, and if they weren’t here, I’d be fucking you on that breakfast bar and you know it.” He sighs deeply. “But, I didn’t put down a special Sunday for a reason, love.” Leaning down, he kisses away your wry tears, and then the tip of your nose. “You are so thoughtful. It’s all my fault though, I must’ve just forgotten to write this down.”

How can you be mad at him when he’s being so thoughtful and heartfelt, confessing his mistake even when it was your rash thinking that’s gotten you into this mess?

Once you calm your breathing down, though, you realise that you’re actually not particularly phased by this at all. You don’t mind this; it was the sheer shock that passed over Tom’s face, the flash of terror he must’ve felt with his work colleagues in the room with him that scared you so. You know well enough that it’ll be a huge knock—monumental, even—for him, if this gets out. Your worry for your treasured boyfriend takes power over any of your own misgivings.

“I’m really sorry, Tom.”

“Don’t be,” he says hastily, “can you please pop up and get dressed, though, darling? Just some shorts, I don’t want you to feel exposed.”

You let out a soft chuckle, nodding, stepping away from him to make your way upstairs. Before you’ve taken so much as a step, though, he tugs you back by the bottom of his shirt, and ravels you into a searing kiss, everything he wants to say passes from his lips to yours.

—

You return a couple of minutes later, dressed simply, comfortably, his shirt in your hands, you find him waiting for you, standing outside the door with his hands clasped at his front. He greets you with open arms, prompting you to take his hands as he leads you back into the kitchen, your eyes connecting in a secret agreement before stepping inside.

The air is rife with anxiety, three panicked faces staring back at you, but thankfully, you’re able to recognise these people as ones he’s worked with for a while, people he knows really well; confidantes and friends more than co-stars or colleagues. However, by the inquisitive glint in their eyes and their parted mouths, you imagine they’ll still have a lot of questions, and this’ll still be a hit for Tom.

He wraps his spare arm around you, his head bowed as he meets the dead faces staring at him. That’s when you begin to wonder if something else has happened.

“Baby, everything okay?” you ask, cupping his jaw, caressing your thumb over the scruff of a beard shadowing his bone structure.

That’s seemingly when it hits him, his face paling, blanching, his grip around you loosening.

“It’s a good job you never got over the threshold, darling,” he says breathlessly, “or I’d be in much more trouble.”

You look to him, eyes searching his face imploringly as he viciously gulps. “We were live on Instagram.”

“SHIT!”

Well, it looks like Tom’s girlfriend is public knowledge. You can’t mind, though not as he dips his head and kisses you hotly, heartily. With this passion, the second these people leave, Stripped Sunday might just happen after all.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mise en Place 7

Warnings: noncon, coercion, manipulation. Proceed with caution.

Note:I’ll be honest that these parts are a little more hands on because I’m full on learning cocktail recipes here lol.

Thanks all for reading and I hope you’re excited for this one. All feedback is more than welcome and loved and appreciated. Reblogs are most helpful.

Part of The Club AU

You leave your apartment, the window boarded up with your landlords half-assed at replacement. You almost prefer the wood; more resilient and you can’t see through it. Still, the place feels eerie. Your little fortress has been breached and the mystery of the attacker has you addled.

You walk into work as you always do. Head down, bag hooked over one shoulder, fingers twiddling as you go through your task list in your mind. You put your things in the coatroom and go to the kitchen.

You grab the broom and mop, eager to go over anything you didn't get to before. Behind the bar, upstairs and downstairs and the private rooms that were always in use even after closing. You methodically work your way from the bottom floor up.

As you return the bucket and pan, Thor is behind the bar. You give a small hi as he booms his usual hello. You tuck away the broom and mop and wipe your hands on your apron, grabbing a cloth to tuck into it from the tidy stack leftover from the day before. You have a whole load of napkins to deliver to the servers' station.

Thor enters as you begin sorting through the cutlery into the slotted tray. You peek up at him briefly, shying back to your task.

"How are you? Good night?"

"Mhmm," you hum, "you?"

"Good," he answers, letting silence dangle as he gives a thoughtful hum, "you made it home okay?"

"Safe and sound," you reply as you examine a spoon and put it by the sink to be rewashed.

"And a nice sleep?"

You pause as his line of questioning irks you. He's nice enough but sometimes his conversation feels intrusive. You told him already, you're fine.

"Yep," you shrug, "how about your night?"

"Ah, I did some reading, and a bit of drinking," he winks as you glance at him once more, "they've still not rehired. Just me again."

"That's too bad."

"Lonesome," he chuckles lightly, "but I can always count on you, can't I, fawn?"

You nod, elusive at giving an answer. You don't like being behind the bar and to be fair, it's frustrating doing extra work without the pay to match.

"Have I done something? Said something?" He prods as he comes closer, standing at the other side of the counter.

"No."

"Hmm," he hums as his large hands rest on the silver edge, "you certain?"

You nod again. You hate to even think it, it feels mean, but you just want to be left alone. You miss those days when no one noticed you.

"Well… my hand feels much better," he waves his bandaged fingers.

"That's good," your lips twitch with a momentary smile, "I should take this to the hub."

"Nah, I got it," he volunteers as he grabs the tray of silverware, "little thing like you carrying all this around, that's no good."

"I do it all the time–"

"Yes, well, perhaps it is time you let others help, fawn," he insists, keeping the tray out of your reach, "you might actually enjoy it."

He spins and struts out before you can respond. You don't even know how you would. It confounds you how he can be so friendly yet so pushy. It puts you off yet makes you feel so ungrateful. You can't assume the worst of him because he reminds you of someone else.

🍸

You finish your shift without much disturbance. A few times you bring out clean glasses to the bar and incap a few bottles but nothing exhaustive. Sonny keeps you entertained as he tells you about his time in the corps. He also makes sure Thor can't steal you away again as he keeps you busy with the pans.

The chef leaves first. He works short shifts, leaving the kitchen tidy as he puts on his leather vest and gives a wave. You enter the bar as last call sounds and gather up any empties you can find, you'll do another sweep once it's empty.

You wait out the last of the clubgoers and return to the dance floor, oddly quiet and vacant. The servers count their tips at the station and you hear the subtle clink of glasses from behind the bar. You have your earbuds in still, the low buzz of your favourite playlist easing the tension.

You don't notice when the servers leave, silence is only ever comforting so you rarely make note of it. As you bend to grab a crushed can from beneath a table, a foot appears around the other side. You stand and face Thor as he smiles at you.

"Need help?" He offers.

"All good," you assure him as you dump the can in the plastic bag.

He stares and you back away, looking around for more garbage.

"What're you listening to?" He frightens you again as the blur of his finger fills your peripheral as he points to your ear.

"Oh nothing," you say, "just music."

"What kind of music?"

You blanch. It feels too rude to ignore him or ask him to leave you be. You're working but there's not much left to do. You stand up and face him. Again, you're reminded of his height.

"Florence and the Machine."

"Ah, I love her, er, them?" He questions, "it is a band, yes?"

"I think," you push your lip out indecisively.

"Do you listen to music often?"

"I guess," you squint. His questions are stiff and awkward. Almost like an interrogation.

"You have a record player," he says and you wince, thinking of the green suitcase player in the corner of your apartment, "asking. Sorry, that came out weird."

You clutch the bag and utter an answer, "yeah…" you look around, "I should finish…"

"Of course," he gulps audibly, "let me know if you need me to walk you home… I heard about another girl, eh? At the club down the block, you know the one, right?"

You don't know. You shake your head, "I had no idea, thanks."

"Wanna make sure you're safe," he backs away slowly, "so I'll wait by the door?"

You hesitate and grab a napkin, shoving it in the bag.

"You should just go home, I hate to keep you late."

"I don't mind–"

"I do," you interrupt without meaning to. You sniff and look at him, "really, I'll be okay."

He stares at you, the humour draining from his face as his cheek tics. He looks very unlike himself. It takes your breath away.

Just as quickly as he darkened, he brightens up again and turns his palms out, "stay safe."

He turns and strides away. You watch his back and tension corded in his forearms as he closes and opens his fists. The tenor of his last words hang in the air, more ominous than hopeful.

Maybe it's all in your head. It's the broken window and the unattached footsteps and the memories. You're fucked up and that's why you're better off alone.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Starry Eyed

Natasha Romanoff x reader / masterlist

summary; during a meeting, natasha receives rather provocative photos of you, and though she is appreciative of the beauty that renders from the images, it was not the time nor the place for them to be sent / warnings; smut, degradation, mummy kink, use of sex toy, swearing, Dom!nat, oral on sex toy, oral sex (fem receiving) bratty!reader.

She, the infamous black widow prowled out of the meeting room, an intent stern in her emerald pools, as the trained assassin herself headed straight towards her quarters, where she knew her malishka would be, presumably occupying their shared bed with splayed and flamboyant legs that were spread so that whomever entered the domain would see everything on first hand display.

That thought only infuriated the redhead more, and so, with little effort, she thrust the bedroom door open, quickly slamming it behind herself, as she was met with the sight of you, phone in hand as you sat cross legged and completely nude upon the crisp black sheets. The woman licked her lips as she prowled closer, snatching the device out from your untrustworthy hands, and flinging it upon the floor, causing a furrow to erupt on your facial features.

“I was just trying to entertain you, Natasha.” That name earned yourself a quirked brow, and you gulped at the silent yet demanding expression that taunted you, forcing you instinctively to feel small and meek beneath it.

“What was that, whore?” The title made you whimper, as you pressed your thighs together as a means to relieve some tension that was brewing between their partition. A shaky breath withered from your mouth, as it made your bare chest rise, and you didn’t miss the way that Nat’s predatory eyes roamed your body.

“I meant mummy.” It came out as nothing short of a whisper, as you felt the woman loom over you, her dominating shadow reaching out to deliver a sharp and vivid slap to your cheek, spurring a stinging to erupt beneath the skin. “Sorry mummy.”

“Now that is how you should be acting little one, not teasing me like a slut. You realise anyone could have seen your little ‘innocent’ photo shoot, right? I mean Steve was sat right beside me, one glance over and he’d have turned back into a stiff and frozen man, that wouldn’t at all mind being stuck in an erect moment of time because he’d have seen that sweet cunt of mine that resides between those easily spreadable thighs of yours.”

“How can I make it up to you mummy?” The question rang heavy as it slipped off your tongue, your eyes pleadingly gazing up at her. If she weren’t mistaken, she’d think there were stars in your eyes, as they orbited around her, as though she were a planet, the central force and habitat for all life. But with that said, and defined, that wasn’t too far off. She was the hand that spun your universe, reeling it around as your eyes always pictured her, in the galactic realm of your mind, in this room, her red hair splayed around her as she succumbed to some kind of pleasure.

The spectrum of pleasure however was a vast array of different areas when the bedroom was involved. She got off on all sorts; degrading you until there were tears streaming out of your eyes and flowing past your water lines, hearing you beg to be touched. Natasha Romanoff was a wild card, and with her, you never knew what to expect. Though, that was part of the thrill of your relationship and the sexual aspect of it, there was excitement, and a suspense that had you always on edge (sometimes literally), for more.

“I don’t think you can blossom, guess you’re just gonna have to sit there, all patient, if that’s even possible, and watch as mummy gets herself off without your help, denying you of any recollection or release. You’ve been very bad, and I think you deserve to go cold turkey, and see that I don’t need you, you’re nothing more than an accessory to my pleasure.” A dark glare sparked upon her face as she ignorantly walked past you, reaching into the bedside drawer to pull out an object.

It served the same purpose as you apparently did, it was an aid to release, not a necessity. The firm black dildo was gripped in her hand as she walked to stand before you, cocking her deviant head to the side as she smirked down at you. She shifted the weight of the toy in her hand, as she held it out in front of you, the tip probing at your pouting bottom lip, the way the skin squashed under the pressure she applied seemingly amusing to her.

“Usually you have trouble keeping that mouth of yours closed, and now what, you don’t want to open it for mummy?” Her strict taunt had you obliging with her indirect command, widening the stance of your lips as she slipped the plastic subject of the empowered and one sided conversation into you mouth, shallowly thrusting the length into your mouth until it gently hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag. Natasha then removed it, surveying the moisture that coated the outside of the toy.

“That’ll do, what do you say malishka for me giving you any kind of attention?” You bowed your head, letting out a surrender of a huff as you gazed up at her with obedient and sparkling eyes that held a restraint within their spheres to contain a bratty eye roll.

“Thank you mummy.” The phrase slithered off your lips as you watched, watched, her strut to opposite the bed, the toy in her palm, your oral suffice trailing carelessly upon her skin. She rolled her desk chair open, seating her fine ass upon the furniture, as she fiddled one handedly with her belt, unknotting it, as she shuffled the material of her tight jeans down her legs, kicking them off from her ankles as her bejewelled irises remained latched upon you.

It would be a crime, a punishable one if you were to avert your eyes, and so you maintained eye contact with her undressing body, squirming as she padded her magical, searing fingertips upon the layer of her underwear, before pulling the flimsy material to the side, exposing her superior cunt. She tugged with her pointer finger upon the lips, showing you the rosy colour of her intimate parts that were hidden beneath the flaps; you licked your lips, wanting nothing more than to touch her.

She was cruel, for leaving you starved from any contact, circling her addictive clit as her feline pupils bore into you, as she moved the average sized toy forwards, running the length of it up and down her slit, before plunging it through her entrance, her walls latching onto the lightly ribbed exterior of the item. Her head fell back, as she pushed her clothed chest out, her hips rutting against the movements that she herself orchestrated.

Through her straining lids however, her eyes remained pursed on you, as though you were the one gaining pleasure from her fulfilling actions. You weren’t; that fact was clear enough as an emotional lurching in your chest tried to convince you to disobey the rules, and crawl to her, performing a better release than any toy could conceive. All you had earned considering the circumstances though, was wetness wandering down your thighs, as your clit pulsed to be touched.

“Mummy.” It was a small, almost inaudible plea, but the Black Widow heard, and she silently nodded her head, giving you an allowance of permission to situate yourself closer, and instantly you scrambled to the floor, floundering off the bed, dragging your palms and the bones of your knees upon the carpet, until you had a close up of the dildo being driven in and out of her pussy. A pout remarked upon your lips, all you wanted was a sweet taste of her nurturing essence, but you refrained from whisking your head forwards and taking what you wanted, no matter how loud that devil on your shoulder spoke. “So pretty.”

“Ya think?” There was smugness in her tone, poisoning it with her own twist as her dewy chin, bent up, a small moan courting out of the column of her throat as her spare hand reached down and fiddled with her priceless pearl, rotating small spirals around it, to bring her closer to her edge. To reply, you eagerly nodded, taking full advantage of your position as you watched her pussy clamp murderously down on the dildo, as deep hums evaded from within her.

You could see how the muscles of her thighs tightened, an extended sound emitting from her as she reached her beautiful peak, gifting herself a couple more thrust of the toy before pulling it out, and revealing how soaked it was. She held it out to you, and instantly, you knew what you had to do, it was practically like deja vu, the only difference was you knew that you had already done this, it wasn’t a familiar feeling prying at the edges of your mind, cursing you with confusion and derelict. No, you had lubed the length up for her to use, and now you were to be the wipe that cleansed it too.

This was the part you were more eager for though; to taste her. “Get on with it.” She roughly carded her talented fingers through your hair, delivering a spiteful tug to your scalp, as she hoisted your face closer to the tool, and intently stared as you opened your mouth, allowing it passage way through the obscene cavern. You gulped any remnants of her cum down, swirling your tongue around the ribbing, delightfully moaning at the feeling of her flavour running down your throat. Just as you were about to take it further down your throat, Natasha pulled you off the plastic with a pop. “That’s not the only thing that needs cleaning up little one.”

The explicit message was perfectly delivered, as your attention quickly grazed away from the dildo to her pussy, that clenched instinctively from your hungry glare. Diving in tongue first was no hassle, this had been what you were waiting for, and finally, finally, you had received the luxury to taste her nectar from the source. Your tongue run up the insides of her parted thighs, cleaning any spillage instantly up, tracing up to her lips, that you sucked into your mouth, replacing her cum with your saliva, not that she at all minded.

“I think you need to be a bit more thorough y/n.” She was serious, she had used your name, and thus, instead of teasing her folds with the tip off your tongue, you smushed your face as close as humanly possible, swiping against her clit many a time, switching to prodding at her entrance, sinking the part of you inside of her, as you grasped the beneath of her killer legs to give yourself more leverage. This was a miracle,it was practically a God’s feast laid out before you, already previously roused from cooking itself under a blithering sun. But now, it was enduring a pink flame, that you roasted her with, humming as your tongue lapped half obsessively at her insides.

“Fuck!” The red head hollered, tangling both hands into your locks, shoving you closer and smearing the most intimate part of herself along your chin. As she continued to pry at your hair, you moaned into her, sending an echo to rivet through her whole skeleton, making the assassin spill her arsenal into your mouth, as you accepted its token, and drank it down, shaking your head lightly as Nat loosened her grip on your head, slumping back into the chair, slightly rolling backwards, though you trailed after, keeping your face buried between her thighs.

She had to pull you off, and whence she did so, she swore there were stars glittering like sequins in your pretty eyes, dancing along the rims of the windows into your soul, like two ghosts, forever mingling their bodies against each other, in order to spend eternity as one. “Did I do a good job mummy?” You knew you had, her skin was pink and peachy, and she released a heavy and withheld sigh, as she traced your jaw, pulling you up for a kiss. As she tasted herself in the corners of your mouth, she smiled lightly, enjoying the taste half as much as you.

“Yes baby, but it doesn’t make up for your little stunt. I’m going to be taking some pictures of your body on my own, and if you ever, and I mean ever, try and distract me from important business again, I swear to you that I will make a whole PowerPoint of them for my team to sit through, and whenever you pass Clint or Tony or anyone else in the halls, you will known that they’ve seen far more than those starry eyes of yours.”

It wasn’t an empty threat, it was a focalised promise. She would definitely expose you if you were to distract her again during any important meeting or debriefings, but a part of you was not entirely opposed to that... She would get jealous if she heard anyone else talk about your body, and her own emotions would be induced by her own vowed actions, and you would receive a brunt of a force to stabilise her frustrations. Now the consequences of the consequences didn’t sound so bad...

[blackvelvetwriteson]

𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 (𝐁𝐍𝐇𝐀 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍)

                                       (  ~ Multiple Characters x Gender Neutral                                                     Reader Insert ~ )

GENRE: FILTHY SMUT     

                                                  FANDOM: Boku No Hero Academia (My Hero Academia)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Today for our characters, we have cumflation, exhibitionism, bondage, somnophilia, overstimulation, marking/burning, corruption, video recording, and tentacle play || I’m sorry if I didn’t catch them all! 

SUMMARY: These are just snippets that I’ve formed throughout the day of the BNHA boys when they’re feral or READER-CHAN is feral. Enjoy! 

WORD COUNT: N/A

(Headers are mine, but the art inside of them are not! Please don’t steal or repost without credit!)

𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀 𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎

    I headcanon that Kirishima's body is extremely sensitive (and he's secretly a perv I mean come on he hangs with Denki and Denki hangs with Mineta) But he's also HELLA shy. So yall are on a movie date, right, and he has his hand over his bulge, grinding into his hand because he's too embarrassed to let you know that he's turned on; so he's just whimpering away and then he gets really close to your ear- by accident- and he moans your name trying to stay as quiet as he can as he's just crumbling and you, very casually, kneel in front of him and when he tells you not to, you take his cock out of his jeans and suck him off telling him to stay quiet until he cums.... And then you overstim the fuck out of him. By the time you're done and it's time to leave, his whole forearm is covered in bite marks from him trying to muffle his moans.

𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈

     He comes back home from work irritated as hell because someone stole a kill from him so you watch him stomp and pout around the house grumbling before you're both casually watching TV. You climb into his lap and start grinding into him, hard, and as he gets more turned on he gets more angry, eventually burying your face into the cushion before railing you so hard that by the end of it his cum forms a bulge in your tummy, you're feeling raw, and you're crying; but he also is a master at aftercare and he's in his domspace so he's not worried about what pissed him off.

𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐊𝐈 𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈

    He, naturally is shy, but he couldn't help asking to come along when you suggested going to a dinner party that the heroes had put together after a MAJOR win and you were surprised but you said yeah. After some time, he went to the corner table that the two of you reserved but not because he was shy; you brushed him the RIGHT way and he was hot. At the party. And he couldn't exactly ask you to help when you were conversing with other heroes. You got drinks and returned to him with his hands in between his legs as he grinds against his wrist and forearms, riding his hand, mumbling and moaning out your name sweating, out of breath and red faced, then he gets shy when seeing you and he stops, but you make him turn his fingers into tentacles and guide him on how to play with you under the table as a hero or two sit at your table and you all start talking casually as Tamaki tries not to break and blow his cover bc you could lose your hero licenses if you got found out.

𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐘𝐀 𝐈𝐈𝐃𝐀

   Iida invites you over to his house to meet his family, and you oblige happily letting him think this will be a teaseless night but of course he's extremely sensitive. You just HAD to exploit that in front of his family. While you're gathered around having dinner, you of course sit next to him and reach over slyly stroking him over his pants mid sentence. You already know he's big because let's face it this man is an absolute truck, and within a few short seconds he's already showing through his tight ass slacks. And it's more noticeable because they're light grey. He's trying to keep his composure even through his fogged ass glasses as you unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants, VERY slyly and nobody even notices because you're following along with the conversation seamlessly. You edge him and tease him already knowing that he was quite loud when he came, so you wanted to see how he would fare in front of his family. long story short, he doesn't.❤️ And he instantly gets hard again when you lick your fingers clean of his cum and address the person who cooked the food while staring at him right in his eyes like "Mmmm this is so good. Thanks for the meal~ It was a real *TREAT* Thank you for inviting me, I loved the food. I’m happy to come back any time you need me."

𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈 𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐊𝐈

    FUCKING CUMFLATION CUMFLATION CUMFLATION; He's just fucking RAILING you into the couch whining about how good you feel, how he's the best one you'll ever have, on about how good you make him feel and how he's the only one that knows how to please you the right way. He's just about spent but he wants to watch his cum pouring out of you and just the very image of it gives him anime protag energy so he's reaching all the way deep inside of you while he feeds you praises and tells him how good you're taking him, asking you if you want it harder, faster, deeper. He overstimulated yourself, taking your out of it state of mind to his advantage. He's an absolute mess of tears, moans, and laughter as he orgasms and cums inside of you again, wasting no time to pull out and watch his cum drip out of your hole, always ready to eat it right out of you because he's a pervy baby.

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀

He's the type to make you a pretty little collar from his tape when he got promoted at work, then drag you around the house by your collar all the way to your balcony, before taping your legs to stay open, your feet and thighs taped to the balcony’s edge, his body being the only thing that's holding you up. At this point, he doesn't care who sees as he absolutely ruins you, bruising your body with his teeth, growling in your ear as he mutters curses in spanish while absolutely WRECKING your shit. If you looked you could even see a bulge in your stomach too. He has no form of restraint when he's feral, grabbing at your skin, forcing your convulsing body to take him in deeper until he sees that you're all fucked out. Then later the same day, you see the both of you fucking on the front cover of the tabloids and it turns him on all over again, and he proceeds to fuck your face while he's reading the column, an expression of complete desperation and victory staining his face.

𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐘𝐀 𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐔

Ahhhh our innocent little beannnnn. It'd been awhile since he came since he's too busy occupying himself to masturbate and yall haven't had sex because of your schedules and doing hero work. But you come home late one shift and you find him in bed sleeping while moaning softly and crying while he's whimpering out your name like the pathetic little bitch boy he is while he's grinding against a pillow. You don't wanna wake him up, but you do record it so you can show it to him tomorrow, but you also prop your phone up and record yourself climbing on top of him, replacing the pillow with a thinner one so you could still have control of him without waking him up. You giggled softly and shook your head a little as you started to grind on him, feeling him grip at your hips while he's still dreaming of you, and you grind your hips into him harder and harder watching his crying get more and more intense until he cums and ruts his hips up hard into you even being a screamer while he's asleep. Then he wakes up a little but not enough to know what all is going on, but his back arches and he's screaming and begging for you to continue as you suck his cock clean only to have him cum in your mouth again and again, and then you coo him back to sleep peacefully, kiss his tears and turn off the camera.

𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐈 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎

Shoto doesn't have an ounce of social ANYTHING, no social cues, when things are appropriate or not, etc etc. So he takes you out to dinner and he's nibbling away at your neck, his hands trailing over your body because you guys were in the corner and you could get away with it, until he eventually pulls you into his lap and grinds your hips against his so that you could feel his bulge. And then he whispers in your ear how much he wants you, how much he wants to be balls deep inside of you, or how nice your tongue would feel against his cock and how much he aches for you until he's practically in tears. He makes you bounce on him, not really caring who saw you, while spreading your legs and stroking you over your pants at the same time freezing your hands together and pulling your arms over yours and his head so all you could do was cum, beg, and squirm around while you listen to his soft grunts in your ear, your legs having given out awhile ago.

𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐌𝐄𝐙𝐎

    Shoji babyyyy awwww. He definitely has a size kink for... Obvious reasons, and he's always really gentle, so he got really flustered when you asked him to be a bit rough with you, instructing him to pin your hands above your head, forcing your legs open and keep them there, and you tried to force yourself all the way down on him. Of course, he'd never experienced everything so intense before, so even after he cums and is a twitching trembling mess you force him to continue to fuck into you until he's begging you to stop but also trying to get more at the same time.

𝐃𝐀𝐁𝐈

Dabi suddenly showing up to your work 10 minutes before your lunch break starts and he drags you out of the office and he pulls you into a dark corner so anybody could see if they wanted to but you both weren't in the way of anything (and out of the way of cameras) and he fucks you HARD burning through some of your clothes, leaving burn marks on you, his fingers shoved in your mouth to muffle your moans, and there's a bleeding bite mark on the nape of your neck then he kisses you, tells you to have a good day at work, and walks out as if nothing even happened.