#word count: 743

[drowning-in-cacophony]

inauspicious

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial Prompt 270: Lights and Sirens tw: mentions of blood/implied dead body

“Shit,” she swears, as filthy as the floor. His head shoots up so fast his neck cracks, an awful sound buried underneath the piercing cry of the sirens, blaring through the night’s secrecy.

“The cops?” He goes to scrub at his face, only to pause a second before, remembering the viscera slick down his palm. “Fucking hell. That’s bad luck.”

“Bad luck? Is that all you can say?” She peers around the curtain, now sporting a bad taste to her mouth. Lights splash up the road as the cars – cars, count them, more than one – come bumping around the corner. Their mouths look hungry, their visors dimmed out. Her eyes suffer like the concrete: blue and red, a bright cacophony bored into her retinas. “They’re going to find us.”

“Not necessarily,” he argues, and she pauses in her watching to shoot him an incredulous look. Is now when he chooses to become an optimist? He catches her eyes. Grimaces as he follows them to the mess on the floorboards. “There’s lots of houses here. They might not find us; they might not even be here for us.”

“Lots of empty houses.” She glances through the crack in the curtains, careful not to shift the fabric. Empty houses means little distractions, and more than one car means they’re here to look for something. It’s not likely to be something unrelated to them now, is it? Not when they’re not here innocent. “We have to move.”

“And leave the evidence?” he hisses, gesturing his stained hands. A fleck of crimson takes flight for its glorious moment, only to spatter on the tip of her boot. “We’re too close to give in now.”

“We’ll try again-” Every moment they spend talking is a moment handed over to the lights. The sirens cut out now as the cars come to their stop – down road from their location, but that means nothing. In their absence, the silence is stifling. A hot, crawling thing, making its way through every part of her body. The sound of the car doors opening, boots on the gravel road – that’s just as bad. There’s no clock in here but she feels the seconds anyway, the beat-beat of them draining away. If they’re going to escape, it has to be now. They could sneak out the back door, run and hope not to be noticed by the gleaning beams of torches that they will be no doubt pulling from their belts.

“I think this time is it.” A decisive cut, which makes two for the night. His eyes are wide, his intention solemn, even if his heart must be beating just as hard as hers is. “We can’t leave this one.”

“Great.” She’s got nothing on her palms, other than a bit of dust from the curtains, so nothing stops her from scrubbing her face in exasperation. Of course their luck would deliver like this. She trusts his judgement, though – he’s not the type to exaggerate chances, not when he knows what she’s got shoved down the back of her waistband. An urging at her spine begs her to check through the curtains, but it wouldn’t change much. She’ll get to peek through the frosted glass of the front door for shadows, hear their crunching approach through the letterbox, because if this time is it, there’s only one thing for her to do.

“Thank you,” he tells her before she’s even reaching a hand around her back. She shoots him something terse this time.

“Just do your thing.” Making sure to step as silently as she can, and as wide as she can first, if she wants to avoid slipping in the matter splattered all over the floor, she crosses to the ajar door of the room. The hallway it opens out onto is darker than it, considering there’s no streetlamp to glitter fluorescent through gently sheer curtains. Moody in the shadows, grey in the highlights. She slips down it, remembering where the quietest floorboards are, and to keep herself shrouded, ducks into the open door closer to the one at the end. That frosted abyss, her target board. Fingertips finally snag the item in her waistband; she pulls it out, a small cylinder she briskly shakes out to something longer. In her hands, it’ll prove deadly if any sniffing trails lead the lights to their door.

While he continues defilement on a dirty floor, she prepares to lay waste to a baying horde.

[greensagephase]

A Strong Man

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x Female!Reader Summary: Chilling with Miguel on the couch but it leads to something else. Miguel recalls last night's activities. Word Count: 743 Warnings: lap grinding; oral sex, female receiving; p in v; unprotected sex (wrap it before - you know the drill): daddy kink (reader calls Miguel "papi"); breeding kink (maybe? does this qualify? idk); size/strength difference kink; reader speaks and understands Spanish; I think that's it Masterlist MINORS PLS DO NOT READ

Imagine hanging out with Miguel on the couch, you’re on his lap with his arms wrapped around you. It's all innocent, just you two cuddling and being cute. You keep showering his face with kisses, unable to stop yourself. He just has such a kissable face!

You keep kissing his face, calling him cute and handsome in between kisses with your sweet voice. Miguel accepts them, his hands lowering to your rear to give a gentle squeeze as you shower him with kisses and compliments. His cheeks are red thanks to your compliments, leaving him flustered. His brain is all fuzzy and overwhelmed with your sweet compliments and attention, your lips so soft against his skin. And of course, your little movements do nothing to help the ache that’s been growing between his thighs since you climbed on his lap.

"And you’re so strong," you say, kissing his neck gently before sucking on his skin, causing his breath to hitch loudly.

"How strong?" he asks in a whisper, his hands gripping your ass tighter.

"So strong, baby,” you murmur against his neck, moving against his lap. You know what you’re doing. “Remember how you had me last night?"

Miguel's pupils dilate as memories of last night flood his mind, how he had you pinned under his weight on your shared bed. You kept squirming, whining and whimpering from being overstimulated while he ate you out. Your sweet whimpers and moans had only fueled his need to keep making you his, making it impossible to stop giving you pleasure by lapping at your sweet little pussy like a starved man, and then fucking you with his big cock, stretching that tight little hole to his size while you cried out his name. You always get so needy, so desperate for him that you beg to be fucked harder - to be filled with his hot cum. And of course, Miguel obliged like he does each time. He fucked your tight sweet pussy until you came around him, your back arching and breasts on display for him. Even during your high, you, his sweet needy girl, begged him to fill your womb with his seed.

“¿Que quieres, preciosa [What do you want, precious]?” he asked as he continued to slide his length along your walls. He was so, so close, but he still wanted to tease you, to hear you say what you wanted.

“A ti, papi [you, daddy],” you said, whimpering. “I need you - I need - fuck!”

“¿Que preciosa? Dilo. ¿Que necesitas? [What precious? Say it. What do you need?],” Miguel grunted out. He was so close.

“Tu [Your]- ah- fuck, papi [Daddy]- your cum - please! Need you - to cum inside me!” you said, desperately bucking your hips against him to help him reach his release, unable to touch him because your hands were pinned above your head.

“You need my cum, eh, princesa [princess]? Papi te dará lo que quieras [Daddy will give you what you want].”

So he did.

Miguel shot his thick, hot load inside you, still pumping his cock into your greedy pussy to push his seed as deep as possible.

Miguel shudders at the memory now, his cock throbbing with need to be inside you again, buried deep in your tight little pussy, and filling it with his cum once more.

"It felt so good, to be pinned down by you - such a strong man," you whisper in his ear, his cock throbbing painfully in his pants. "The way you had my wrists pinned above my head... With no way to escape."

Miguel lets out a low growl, pulling you closer and gripping your ass tightly with his large hands, before he leans closer to whisper into your ear. "No way to escape me at all," he whispers before biting your earlobe, cock hard and twitching. He’s sure by now there has to be a damp spot on his briefs from all your damn grinding.

Of course, you feel the way his cock twitches against your heat, your panties beneath your nightgown growing even more damp. "I wouldn't want to escape anyway, papi [daddy]," you say whimpering, grinding your hips against his large bulge, making him groan and grind back, pushing his hips into you to make you feel how hard you've made him.

"Mm, I know you wouldn't my sweet, needy girl," he whispers before he flips you onto your back in the blink of an eye, pinning your hands above your head and nestling himself between your legs to repeat last night’s activities.

A/N: Thank you for reading! <33

Alondra ❤️

[mistreatedangel]

unforgettable desires, rafe cameron.

WARNING — 18+ mdni, pwp, daddy kink, denial kink(?!), use of the word “daddy”.

AUTHOR NOTE — this is my first time writing smut since my wattpad days, when i was a teenager/preteen. this is mainly based off the need to write smut & this edit here!

WORD COUNT — 743.

"i can't. . . it's . . it's too big." you cried as tears rolled down your puffed out, sex blown face. burying your face deep in the the older male's neck, leaving half crest moon indications on his back. a reminder of the sinful act you both seemed to have no problem indulging in.

"shh... i got you." he whispered out. coddling your body, brushing down your wild hair, while he continued his assault on your pelvis, burying his cock deep in hitting very right spot, every angle, dragging his strokes. savoring every little sound that patterned from your bloodshot lips, it was euphoria. the way you arched you back with every stroke that dig deeper into your pussy.

"i got you." he breathless moaned in your ear, pulling you face from his neck, tightening his grasp on your neck, craning it to the side, giving the older male a full view of your neck. a sinful display.

pushing his cock deeper into your pussy, singing praises in your ear. as you bounced on his cock, swallowing him whole, leaving nothing to imagine. you were his very own sex toy. watching you take every last drop of his seed, chanting praise in his ear, how much you needed this, dragging you ass back and forth on his shaft. with a dazed smile on his lips, watching you work your self on his cock, taking him all in. cocking his head to the side, he watched no enjoyed the performance you were putting on for him. a sinful display of your urges. 

"just like that. . . yes, keep going baby."

“c’mon. just like that.” he grunted, slamming his cock into your soapy walls. digging deeper, and deeper. drilling into you like a mad man on a mission. a starved man.

"mmh—fuck." you moaned out, bouncing with more force, trying to reach your high, he seemed to so gracefully deny you. with a harsh slap on your lips, "bad girl." rafe hissed slowing down his thrust. he almost forgot the reason for why you both were in this position in the first place. the way you clinched around him, had his mind going miles per minute. he wanted to punish you, not only for disobeying his warnings about jj, but also that fact that you thought it was okay to wear a slutty dress to see the pouges. you were asking for this (if you asked him).

"please." you begged biting your lips, turning your half lipped eyes to him. begging for a release he so gladly denial you. "please rafe. i wanna' cum." you gasped out clawing at his back.

as the word slipped from your mouth seemed to flip a switch within in him. with abrupt force he pulled himself out of your weeping pussy, that screamed to be fucked. clenching around nothing, begging for him to slide back in, to fill the void he caused. to solve your hunger, thirsty for him.

sucking his teeth staring down at you, waving his index finger back and forth with a wolf—like grin on his lips, as he taunted you. "mhm you have been a good girl have you?" he inquired slowly tilling his head, peering down at you. watching you clinging onto him, craving his body warmth.

shacking your head in shame. shamefully casting you glaze down, not wanting to see the look in his eyes.

"but you wanna be a good girl daddy right" he asked tapping under your chin, pulling your glaze up to his eyes. there he stood on his knees, also his body covered you. the moonlight outside the window cascading a heavenly glow on his tanned skin, making rafe seem heaven sent.

nodding you head fiercely pleading with your eyes, begging the older man to forgive you. "i'll do anything." you plead reaching out to touch his happy trail, only to have your hands slapped away. with the snap of his hands, it sent shock waves through your body, making your crave him ever more. with every denial he gives, the more you wanted him. mouth watering for more, craving to swallow him whole, every little inch of him. even if it was the last thing you did.

"than show me." he commanded running his hands through his dirty blonde hair, watching you with half lipped eyes. there you sat ass down, titties up watching him with lust filled eyes, and unclaimed desire.

"c’mon and show daddy than." he purred out.

[writingrock]

red velvet sweetness

pairing: katsuki bakugou x reader (gender neutral) summary: you always celebrate bakugou's birthday with a red velvet cake. It's his favourite. But he thinks he's changing his mind on what his favourite dessert is.

notes: prohero! katsuki bakugou, it's bakugou's birthday, mildly suggestive, almost smut, nsfw established relationship (married), red velvet haters go away

word count: 743

You always made sure Bakugou’s birthday was celebrated, even when he insisted he didn’t care for it. Every year, without fail, you’d find yourself planning his birthday weeks in advance, scrawling notes in the margins of your notebooks and making quiet preparations that he’d never know about. A small way to show him that he mattered, even when he pretended he didn’t.

It was never anything extravagant. Just a simple gathering of his closest friends, because you knew he’d never go for anything more than that. But the most important part— the part you always made sure to get just right— was the cake. A red velvet cake, his favourite. You’d learned that early on, through offhand comments and shared meals, the way his eyes would linger on the dessert menu just a second longer when red velvet was mentioned. It wasn’t overly sweet, just rich enough to suit his tastes, and it had quickly become a staple of his birthdays.

His eyes twitched at the red velvet cake on the table, candles flickering, waiting for him to blow them out. The crowd of his friends surround him as they sing for the birthday boy. Don’t get him wrong, he appreciated the effort you put into this little celebration. But his attention was elsewhere, something far more distracting than the cake. You knew red velvet was his favourite, but was it the same reason behind your outfit? The short red dress with white trimmings, pearly earrings, and that delicate silver necklace dangling at your neck, adorned with his initials. It was almost like you planned to be the sweetest temptation in the room, and damn, you were succeeding.

“You wanted this, didn’t you?” he growled, his voice low and rough as he captured your lips in a messy, hungry kiss. His self-control was hanging by a thread. “Dressed up so pretty just for me.” His crimson eyes drank you in, searing into every inch of you as one hand slid up your thigh, his touch hot and insistent. The other hand trailed to the back of your dress, his fingers finding the zipper, teasing it down as he pulled you even closer, deepening the kiss with a possessive hunger.

Every second of the party had been a test of his patience, watching you flit around the room, knowing exactly what you were doing to him. It took everything in him to wait until the last guest left, the front door clicking shut behind them. You’d insisted on tidying up first, trying to stall, but he wasn’t having it.

“Clean up? Don’t test me,” he warned, his voice thick with barely contained desire as he backed you against the kitchen counter, eyes dark and wild. You were out of excuses, and he was done waiting. Every nerve in him was alight with need, and he wasn’t about to let anything get between him and you— not tonight.

The expensive dress slipped off your body, the cool air kissing your body. It was a pity that such a luxurious dress was so quickly discarded onto the kitchen floor. But Bakugou could give less fucks. You barely had time to breathe his name before his lips were on yours again. Pulling you into the heat of his relentless desire. The kiss was rough and consuming, leaving you breathless as his hands roamed your sun-kissed skin, tracing over every curve he already knew by heart. He cupped your hips, fingers pressing into your softness, a possessive touch that spoke volumes.

He’s memorised every line, every dip, every mark that made you his. To him, your body was a sculpture he could never tire of exploring, no matter how many times his hands found their way across your skin. His touch was greedy, fueled by the insatiable hunger that only you seemed to ignite in him.

Bakugou’s breath was ragged as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes burning with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. He could never get enough of you—of the way you felt, the way you moved against him, the way you surrendered to his touch. Each moment with you was a heady mix of passion and possession, and tonight, he wasn’t letting anything hold him back.

He might have to rethink what his favourite dessert is. It probably never was red velvet anyways. Because nothing could compare to the dessert he has bent over the kitchen counter.

a/n: kinda wrote it randomly. I can't write smut but this is a start??? Maybe???? Anyways, for my pookie @chocogoldie cuz I accidentally baited her today.

border credits: @enchanthings & @adornedwithlight

© writingrock 2024 do not copy, translate or repost.

[knoepfl]

Bound by Grit: A Dance of Power and Defiance

Characters:

• Salo: A bitter, wheelchair-bound enforcer from Zaun, struggling with his vulnerability and defiance.

• Reader (Female): A headstrong woman from Piltover, tasked with caring for Salo, challenging his temper while asserting control in their relationship.

Trigger Warnings:

• Themes of physical disability and recovery.

• Power dynamics and control in relationships.

• Mild violence (rough handling of the wheelchair).

• Strong language and tension-filled interactions.

• Themes of emotional vulnerability and resistance to help.

Masterlist

Part 2

Words: 743

--- The spires of Piltover glistened in the waning light, their golden peaks brushing against the fading orange of the sunset. Inside the cramped apartment, the air felt heavier, weighted by tension and unspoken words. The only sounds were the faint creak of wheels rolling over polished wood and the occasional clink of metal.

Salo maneuvered himself near the window, his wheelchair cutting a deliberate path through the room. He stopped just shy of the glass, his hands gripping the wheels tightly as he stared at the city below.

You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. The sharp angles of his jaw were illuminated by the fading light, but his expression remained unreadable.

“You’re glaring at the city again,” you said, your voice cutting through the silence.

“And you’re still here,” he replied without turning, his tone flat.

You pushed off the frame and approached him, your boots echoing softly on the wooden floor. “You’re welcome, by the way, for keeping you alive and somewhat functional.”

Salo’s lips twitched, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “I’m touched by your unwavering dedication.”

“Not dedication,” you corrected, stepping behind him and placing a hand on the back of his chair. “Obligation. Someone has to make sure you don’t fall apart.”

Before he could retort, you spun the chair sharply away from the window, forcing him to face the rest of the room.

“Don’t do that,” he snapped, his hands gripping the armrests as he glared up at you.

You smirked, leaning down so your face was level with his. “What, this?” You pushed the chair forward slightly, making him jolt.

“Enough,” he growled, though his voice lacked the venom you were used to.

You straightened and walked around to face him, planting yourself in front of the wheelchair. “If you don’t like it, do something about it.”

His eyes narrowed, dark and dangerous. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted, your arms crossed as you leaned against the edge of the table. “But you let me take control, Salo. You hate it, but you need it.”

He scoffed, his hands releasing the armrests as he forced his expression back into something more neutral. “Need is a strong word.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “Really? Then why don’t you prove me wrong? Get out of that chair and walk away.”

The silence that followed was heavy, but you didn’t look away. His jaw tightened, and his hands returned to the wheels, gripping them like lifelines.

“Careful,” he said, his voice low. “One day, I might surprise you.”

You stepped closer, standing just inches from him. “I’m counting on it.”

Before he could respond, you crouched down in front of him, your fingers brushing against the wheel of his chair. The proximity was intentional, the balance of power shifting as you met his gaze head-on.

“You’re not helpless, Salo,” you said, your tone softer but still firm. “But until you decide to fight for yourself, I’m in charge. And you’ll listen.”

His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. The tension between you was palpable, a silent battle of wills.

Finally, he leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. “You’re infuriating.”

“And you’re stubborn,” you shot back, standing and moving to the other side of the room. “But we make it work.”

You grabbed a small toolkit from the shelf and walked back to him, kneeling by his chair to inspect the mechanisms. “You’ve been grinding the wheels again,” you muttered, adjusting the tension with practiced ease.

“Occupational hazard,” he said, his voice lighter now.

You glanced up at him, catching the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

When you finished, you stood and placed a hand on his shoulder, leaning down so your face was close to his ear. “One day, you’ll thank me for this,” you murmured.

Salo tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours. “Don’t hold your breath.”

You smirked, stepping back and pushing his chair toward the center of the room. “Let’s see if you can roll yourself to the table without complaining. Consider it training.”

He muttered something under his breath but obliged, his hands gripping the wheels as he maneuvered the chair forward. You watched him, arms crossed, a sense of satisfaction blooming in your chest.

This was your domain now, and while Salo might resent it, you knew he wouldn’t trade it for anything. ---

[emmyspov]

A Lifetime (Gil-Galad x reader)

Summary: It seemed like it was forgotten in the lore that there were not only Elrond and Elros, but also a third sibling: you. Before Elrond became the High King’s Herald, you had already chosen your fate. Like your younger brother, you would live as an elf, serving the High King and getting a bit closer with him than imagined. Set in the time of the second season of Rings of Power.

author’s note: it’s been a looong time since i actually wrote something, so excuse this crusty-rusty excuse of work, but i just had to write something before i start my job tomorrow, especially after seeing the interview in which benjamin walker stated that he wants Gil-Galad to be kissed! i used “meldanya” for my beloved in the story - and tried my best to keep it gender-neutral :)

warnings: mentions of war and terrible times and kissing? that should be it, if not, let me know <3

word count: 743

edit is mine, all pics are from pinterest :)

You bowed as you entered Gil-Galad’s chambers: “How may I assist you today, High King?”

Ever since Elrond had been appointed Commander to lead an army to Eregion, you had found yourself almost constantly in the king’s presence, helping him not only with his speeches and council planning, but also your regular tasks. You, personally, were responsible for his well-being, ensuring he ate and drank regularly, selecting his garments for each day, and – over time – also keeping him informed on Lindon’s gossip. It led to you two being… closer with each other than expected. Which in return made the king ask for your presence in the evenings as well.

He never told you, but with the growing shadow over Middle Earth, you were the only one who could put his mind at ease. Especially when you brushed his hair – you were far gentler than any of his maids – and made him smile like no one else could.

He shook his head at your bow. How many times had he told you that you had long surpassed such formalities? With a sigh, he finally spoke, “I’ve made the decision to ride to Eregion.”

Your head shot up. “High King-“

He interrupted you, dark eyes staring into your own. “A king’s place is wherever the need is greatest.”

“You are needed here. What am I supposed to do if something happens to you?”

Yes, one could say you were worried about High King Gil-Galad, but not for the reason others might assume. Sure, he was the King of all Elves in Middle Earth, but now seemed to be the moment to admit to yourself that he had also become the king of your heart.

He smiled sadly. “Let us not part with such dark thoughts in our minds. Please, help me gather my armor and whatever else I might need for this journey.”

What was needed on a journey like the one he was about to embark on? A journey he might never return from. No. No, you couldn’t think like this. So, you did what he asked. You helped him gather his clothes and armor which made him look even more majestic and beautiful, made your way to the stables to check on his horse and even sneaked into the kitchens to provide him with his favorite treat.

The whole time, your mind was racing. Could you tell him how you felt? What exactly were you feeling? All you knew was that you were happiest when you were with him. He challenged you mentally and, at the same time, brought you a sense of peace. You longed for him whenever he was away. Yes, you were infatuated with the High King Gil-Galad.  

Which made your parting even harder. You knew that you couldn’t burden him with your feelings – not now, when everything seemed to be on the brink of darkness once more. You watched him as he spoke with his soldiers before he made his way over to you.

“It is time”, he said, taking your hand. “I truly wish you could accompany me on this ride, but I’d rather know you are safe here. Will you wait for my return?”

You couldn’t help your smile. “I’d wait a lifetime.”

“That’s quite a long time, meldanya.”

You nodded and took a step closer, placing your hand on his cheek. “For you, it’s worth it.”

You were so close. You could smell him, feel his warmth even through the suit of armor. “I think, I would really like to kiss you, High-King. May I?”

He stared at you with an open mouth, nodding slowly. He would have never though that you from all beings would feel the same for him. His thoughts scattered when your lips came in contact with his. Oh Eru, they were warm. And so soft.

Before he could process it further, you took a step back. You didn’t want to overwhelm him. But apparently, the High-King had other plans and pulled you close again, capturing your lips in another kiss. He could taste the sweetness of berries as his tongue swept over your bottom lip and and you cupped his face with both hands.

The whole world seemed to stop as you were standing at the gates of Lindon, engulfed in each other’s presence. The king was breathing hard when you finally pulled apart: “Wait for me. Please.”

You only nodded, tears forming in your eyes. You’d wait a lifetime.

[mermaidgirl30]

✨My, My, Such a Sweet Surprise✨

A/N: I had to write this down real quick after I saw the most gorgeous Joel Miller looking man I’ve ever seen in my life today 🫠 This is a Drabble of what could of been if maybe I talked to the man 🤣

Summary: When you stumble upon a cute little property with a farmer’s market, you get more than you bargain for when you meet the man with honeysuckle eyes and a thick Southern drawl that makes you weak in the knees.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem! reader

Word Count: 743

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)

Tags: Unprotected P in V, cream pie, cute nicknames, flirting

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

It was supposed to be just a quick walkthrough of the little farmers market out in the country. A little Easter egg event for the dogs, at least that’s what you saw on the event listed online. That’s why you were standing in the warm spring air, your Great Pyrenees hooked to his leash, the soft summer dress blowing against your creamy thighs. That’s all it was supposed to be. A fun, relaxing event. That is, until you saw him.

A man that stood over six feet tall, yellow flannel buttoned up against tanned, strong arms, sleeves rolled up so you could see the thick veins that twisted down his forearms, large hands that could do some damage with an axe. And he was so fucking broad. And his eyes. Honeysuckle, warm heaven that clashed with his golden flannel.

You weren’t supposed to keep staring at him, weren’t supposed to even talk to him, but all that came crashing down the moment he walked over and spoke those first Southern drawled words to you, slipping like warm butter right down your tongue and that was it. You were completely fucked.

And that’s how you ended up in the back of his property, caged between his strong arms, your back pressed against an old oak tree, your sundress hiked above your hips, one leg hooked over his broad shoulder, the other clasped around his muscular back.

Your mouths latched together in messy, wet kisses. Your tongues lapped against each other’s in a burning hunger you couldn’t control. His fingers twisted against your messy curls as his thick cock rutted up inside you, the slick sliding down his long length as he stretched you wide and bottomed out again and again until you could barely stand the heat.

His mouth moved to your collarbone, his teeth nipping and sucking as your fingers ran through his tousled curls, your lips parting as the side of your face scratched up against his salt-and-pepper beard as your moans carried to the shell of his ear. You could feel yourself getting closer with every inch of his cock sliding against your sticky walls, the heat building in your spine as you dug your fingers into the back of his neck.

“Go on, come for me, darlin’. Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight. Know you’re close. Tell me who makes you feel good, sweetheart. Let me hear it,” he purred into your ear as you felt yourself lose all control the moment he moved his calloused thumb down to your puffy clit and started making slow circles against your burning heat.

“Oh fuck, Joel. You do. You make me feel good. Ahh.” He pressed down harder, quickening the pace of his thumb and cock as he bottomed out inside you, moving to a position where he hit that sweet, spongy spot that made you see stars.

“Joel, I’m gonna-fuck, gonna come,” you whined, feeling your orgasm start to take over as your walls squeezed against his thick cock.

“Fuck,” he growled as his fingers dug into your hips, “that’s a good fuckin’ girl. So good, sweetheart, Goddamn,” he groaned as you spilled your slick all over him.

“Joel,” you cried as you closed your eyes and buried your face into the crook of his neck, feeling white hot heat spill from your center as your body shook through the intense orgasm.

“Mmm, that’s my good girl. Gonna fill ya up next. That what you want, sweetheart? Want my come inside that pretty pussy of yours?” he asked as he sped up his motions, drilling his cock inside you as you felt him bottom out again and again and again.

“Yes, please,” you begged as you moved your forehead against his as he lapped against your crimson cheek.

“That’s what I thought,” he smirked. Once, twice, three more times and he was spilling his seed inside you, warm ropes of come painting your walls as he stilled inside you and moaned into the base of your ear, his ragged breaths blowing hot against your jawline.

“Christ, sweetheart. Ain’t you the sweetest surprise I’ve ever had the pleasure of meetin’,” he smiled against your lips, his mouth brushing up against yours. “Am I gonna see ya again?”

“Oh, yeah. You’ll definitely see me again, Miller,” you teased as he pushed you back up against the tree and pulled your hair back.

“How’s about round two then, darlin’?”

And that’s exactly what you did.

Tags: @mountainsandmayhem @littlevenicebitch69 @keylimebeag @jasminedragoon @rav3n-pascal22 @casa-boiardi @lotusbxtch @amyispxnk @princesatracionera

[auxmodi]

kitchen visit 🧄

my masterlist

summary : you’re making soup for the guards at Winterfell, and as usual, Sandor shows up to complain. But as he sticks around, you realize there’s more to his grumbling than he lets on. #wholesome

a/n: idk why but sandor can DEFINITELY cook, like he would be the best husband.

word count: 743

The soup bubbled gently in the pot, filling the Winterfell kitchens with the rich aroma of herbs and roasted marrow. You stirred it with steady hands, checking the consistency and seasoning as you hummed softly to yourself. Feeding the guards was no small task, but it was one you’d grown to love, despite the grumbling and ungrateful looks you sometimes got.

The familiar sound of the heavy door creaking open didn’t even make you look up anymore. “Evening, Sandor,” you called without turning.

“Evening,” he replied, his voice as rough as the scrape of a blade against stone. “Smells better than what they served yesterday.”

You chuckled, glancing over your shoulder to find him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, his perpetual scowl firmly in place. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The thud of his boots followed as he crossed the room. You didn’t need to turn to know he was making a slow line for the worktable, the same way he always did. He liked to pretend he wasn’t lingering, that he wasn’t drawn here night after night by the warmth of the kitchen, the crackling firelight dancing on stone walls, or though he’d never admit it, you.

You turned back to your soup, expecting him to make a snide comment and leave like usual, but instead, you heard the soft thud of something being set down.

Glancing over, you saw Sandor standing at the table, pulling a small bundle of wild garlic from a pouch. He began peeling the cloves without a word.

“What’s this?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Stuff,” he muttered, already rolling up his sleeves like he planned to get his hands dirty. “Found ’em near the woods. Figured you’d need somethin’ to stop this soup from being a pot of piss water.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. Sandor Clegane didn’t “find” things for people, certainly not for you. The gruff, battle-worn man was many things, but thoughtful wasn’t one of them. Or so you’d thought.

“Thoughtful of you,” you said softly, your teasing tone replaced by something quieter.

“Thoughtful, my arse,” he snapped, grabbing a knife from the block and slamming a garlic clove onto the cutting board with a little too much force. “If the guards eat another pot of watered-down slop, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

You laughed under your breath, shaking your head as you turned back to the pot. “You know, for someone who supposedly doesn’t care, you’re awfully invested in this soup.”

He grumbled something unintelligible, but you caught the faintest twitch of his mouth, like he was fighting a smirk. Sandor Clegane, the Hound himself, standing in your kitchen, smashing garlic with all the ferocity of someone cutting down enemies in battle. It was a sight you’d never thought you’d get used to. But here he was.

The scent of garlic filled the air as you worked together, neither of you commenting on how natural it felt. His rough hands, scarred and strong, moved with surprising skill, tossing the garlic into the pot without waiting for instruction.

“You’re not bad at this, you know,” you said after a moment, tasting the broth. “Maybe in another life, you’d have been a cook instead of killing people.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “What, chained to a kitchen, makin’ pies and stews for lords and ladies? I’d rather rot.”

“You say that,” you teased, “but you’re always here. Starting to think you might actually like it.”

His knife paused mid-slice, and for a moment, you thought he might snap back with one of his usual gruff retorts. Instead, he shrugged. “Better company than the courtyard,” he muttered, almost too quiet for you to catch.

You blinked at his words, a flicker of surprise crossing your face, but you kept your focus on the soup. Quietly, you grabbed a spoon and tasted it, the warmth spreading through you, rich and hearty with just the right amount of sharpness from the garlic. “It’s perfect,” you murmured, glancing at Sandor.

His boots already thudded against the stone floor as he walked to the door, pausing for a moment with one hand on the frame. “Eat your damn share before those idiots get to it,” he muttered, glancing back at you briefly before pulling the door open.

You watched him leave, the heavy door closing with a creak. A quiet laugh slipped from your lips as you looked back at the pot. For all his roughness, Sandor had a way of looking out for you that felt almost tender, though he’d never call it that.

[delicatebarness]

winters widow | prologue

Summary: In the land of Avengard, House Romanoff's future hinges on the three sisters: Natasha, Yelena, and you. Their paths intertwine with power, heritage, and alliances. A tale of familial duty and the complexities of the kingdom's fate.

Warning: Mentions of forced marriage. Swords/Blades.

Word Count: 743

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A/N: I'm in my GOT/HOTD era again. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

winters widow: Let me know if you want to be tagged specifically for this series.

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick

In the land of Avengard, your house stood tall as one of the Greats. House Romanoff was revered and feared in equal measure. Their lineage, storied and ancient, bore the weight of triumphs and tragedy. A true testament to the unwavering strength and indomitable spirit. Yet, as the sun was setting over an age of male dominance, your House found itself at a crossroads, the legacy hinging on the shoulders of three formidable sisters. 

Natasha, your eldest sister, was the beacon of resilience and cunning. Her beauty was only matched by her lethal intellect, and it was those qualities that sealed her fate. She was to be betrothed to Prince Steven Rogers, the future King of Avengard. Promising stability and power, the union would create an alliance that would see House Romanoff’s influence grow stronger within the kingdom. 

“Do you ever feel the weight of it all, Natasha?” you asked, as you stood on the balcony overlooking the sprawling lands of Belova.

Her red hair flowed in the evening breeze, and she turned to you with a knowing smile. “Every day, sister. Yet, it’s a burden we were born to bear and, we will bear it with pride and strength.” 

“Do you trust him?” you ventured, your voice barely a whisper as your mind wandered. 

“Prince Steven? With my life,” your sister replied without hesitation. “He understands duty as we do. We will forge a new, brighter path for this kingdom.” 

Yelena, the middle child, possessed an independence as fierce as her heart of unyielding fire. She would remain in Belova, the seat of House Romanoff. In time becoming the First Lady and head of the house. Her presence in Belova ensured that the Romanoff name would endure and thrive. Her leadership was destined to carve a new chapter in their history.

“I still think staying here is a curse,” Yelena muttered as she sharpened the blade of her sword. “While you two get to roam the kingdoms, I’m stuck managing this place.” 

Natasha laughed softly. “Someone has to keep the home fires burning. And, who better than you, Yelena? You have the strength to keep Belova safe and prosperous.” 

“And you,” Yelena playfully pointed her blade at you, “you get to be married off to House Barnes. I hear their heir is quite the enigma.” 

And then, there was you. The youngest of the sisters, known for your gentle heart and compassion that touched all who know you. Your path led you to the loyal House Barnes, The most steadfast supporters of the crown. Your marriage to their only male heir, James Barnes, was not merely a union of families but a binding of fates. He was to be the future hand of the king, however he was as enigmatic as he was loyal. His past is shrouded in mystery and his future is entwined with the throne. 

“I wonder what James is like,” you mused aloud one night.

Nashasa chuckled. “From what I’ve heard, he’s as loyal as they come. However, sister, he’s been through much. You’ll have to be patient with him.” 

You nodded understandly. “I want to make sure he feels respected, and comfortable with me around.” 

Natasha placed a reassuring hand over yours. “You have a compassionate nature, a kind heart, dear sister. James will appreciate that.” 

The day grew shorted and the night's longer as the lands of Avengard trembled with whispered changes. Alliances form in the halls of power, determining the fate of the realm. The Romanoff sisters stood poised in this intricate dance of power and destiny. Their legacies were forever changed by the crown and the blood-soaked soil of their home. 

“Do you remember the stories Mother used to tell us?” Yelena asked. “About the ancient queens of Avengard?” 

“How could I forget?” Natasha said, her eyes distant as she looked toward the horizon. “She always believed we were destined for greatness.” 

“Greatness or tragedy,” Yelena added, her voice softening. “The line between the two is often thin.” 

“Then we’ll have to make sure we land on the right side,” Natasha replied firmly. “For the honor of our House.”

Determination burnt in your heart as you looked out upon the sprawled lands of Belova. The journey ahead was fraught with danger, but you were ready. The destiny of House Romanoff depended upon it. Guided by the love for your family and the commitment to your noble house, you were prepared to face whatever awaited.

---

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

[p0orbaby]

Winner Winner

summary: Alessia’s first wsl goal has you both celebrating on and off field

warnings: a little spicy

a/n: tepidly testing the waters with my first Russo piece…

word count: 743

-

Finally.

Alessia had scored her first goal for Arsenal in the super league, at last. There’s only been two games previous but she felt the sting of the lack of conversions, and no amount of honeyed words whispered in the dark had done much to help.

So, seeing the ball hit the back of the net made you jump for joy and deflate with relief in the same breath.

You’d witnessed countless hours she had dedicated in training, and the sacrifices she’d made to get here. And it was all worth it as you listened contentedly to the crowd cheer for her as she ran back to the center circle. A triumphant smile on her face as she clapped towards the fans.

-

The game ended positively. An assist for Beth, a win for the team and a very excited squad. Players swamped the edges of the stands, several of them pulling you in with strong arms and sweaty bodies as you congratulated them. Though it was Alessia who you were saving the highest of praises for.

You spotted her as she neared the tunnel, cheeks red and flushed from smiling. Blue eyes narrow as she looked for you in the crowd, then widening when she spotted you waving from amongst the chaos.

Her arms found their place around your torso when she got close enough. Your own wrapping around her neck, keeping her close.

You’d wanted to sing your praises, shout them from the rooftops, but her lips crashing into yours before you could even voice a single word stopped you. Whistles and whoops from her teammates echoed around you. No doubt a catalyst for changing room teasing, but neither of you cared. You’d kiss her in the middle of Times Square if it proved how proud you were of her.

Pulling away, you whispered a “I’m so proud of you” against her lips. A minty chuckle was your response, along with a smirk and a bashful ducking of her head to your shoulder. “Super proud”

“Scored for you, you know” her words were muffled against the cotton of your shirt.

“Sweet talker” you replied, your fingers finding her chin to lift her gaze to yours.

Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief in the evening sun. “Only for you,” she said with a smile.

“How quickly can you get out of here?”

The blonde's eyes narrowed again in curiosity. “I’ve got to eat, then I’ve got hydro and a quick pit stop at physio for a once over. We’ll say just under an hour. Why?”

It was your turn to smirk, leaning in, lips hovering temptingly close to her ear, “if you can make it closer to forty minutes, I think I can make it worth your while”

There was a glint in her eye, and you knew you had her.

-

The front door was slammed shut with a swing of a foot. Hands too preoccupied to be of use for anything other than cupping Alessia's face. She’d taken thirty four minutes after the game, the journey home taking less than half that. And before the clock had struck an hour since the final whistle, the two of you found yourselves clumsily stumbling your way to the bedroom.

“We’re celebrating you” you reminded her when she started unbuttoning your blouse first.

Alessia’s lips met yours in a heated kiss, filled with desire, with gratitude . “I love your way of celebrating,” she purred between kisses.

The room filled with the intoxicating vibration of your need, an electric energy that mirrored the excitement from the game. Alessia had conquered the field, and now, she had every intention of conquering a different kind of territory. As clothes were quickly shed, the world outside faded away, and you both drowned in the pleasure of the moment, celebrating not just her victory on the field, but your passion for each other.

With each fervent moment, you couldn’t help but tease her between breathless kisses, “You know, they say the way you play on the pitch reflects your expertise off the pitch”

Alessia laughed, a sultry sound that sent shivers down your spine. “Are you suggesting I’m quite the finisher in all aspects of life?”

You grinned, your fingers tracing a gentle path along her skin. “Well, you did score a goal for me today, didn’t you?”

Shee eyes met your, her usual blue a few shades darker, “And now, I think I want to score again… and again”

[carefreecoffee]

Flufftober Day 20: Sleepy situation w/ Sero Hanta

Word count: 743, Gender-neutral reader

The common room was lively with students as 1-A settled in for their annual movie night. Mina and Denki had hosted it in hopes of getting quality time with your peers and honestly it was working! 

Many were chatting amongst themselves as they settled into the couches and floors, pillows and blankets strewn about rapidly. “Alright party people! Let's settle down and start this thing!” Mina announces as everyone implies, returning into their respective spots. You sat on the arm of one of the couches, blanket strewn across your body as you leaned atop a pillow.

“Hey, is this seat taken?” You gaze over to see Sero grinning at you with his signature straight-laced smile. Your face begins to feel warmer as you snap out of it daftly. “No! No noones sitting here haha.” He thanks you before resuming his position near you, you were practically leg to leg.

Sero Hanta– your longtime crush who you can't help but stumble around. It sucked wanting to talk to him but getting overwhelmed by such strong urges to become closer to him, maybe this would be a good inning…

As the movie started, the lights were turned out, keeping you in the dark with the only light being the program in front of you. You decided to zone in and block out the boy beside you, wanting to enjoy the moment, however after a while it seemed that the two of you began to settle into one another.

It started with Sero spreading his legs a bit more and draping the blanket around his shoulders, creating a cocoon like stature. You thought it was cute how he could be so easily handsome, even in low-filter light. It seemed he had noticed your momentary staring because soon you’re eye to eye. “Everything okay?” He whispered as to not disturb the others around you. 

You nod frantically, averting your eyes in time to not notice his knowing grin. Sero looks beside him to find Denki and Kirishima knocked out next to each other unceremoniously. Without a second wasted, Sero leans over, poking your shoulder before pointing at the unconscious boys.

You stifle a laugh, covering your mouth as you stare at the scene before you, nudging Sero as a way of telling him to knock it off however he didn't take you seriously, with the amount you were cracking up. It was like music to his sears even if it were in breathy heaves.

Afterwards you noticed that he had gotten significantly closer. Maybe it was an accident? I mean you two were close friendship wise and it's not like it made you inherently uncomfortable but dammit if you did not admit that you were feeling warmer by the moment. 

As the movie dragged on, the feeling of sleep illuminated throughout your body causing your eyelids to become heavy, chest rising a bit slower now. You lean back, turning your head into a comfortable position before letting rest take over. The warmth of your blanket, the plushness of the couch and the white noise the movie had provided. It was all too much.

Little did you know in your sleeping escapade led to your head bobbing down onto the nearest surface– Sero. He worked up, looking down to see your head resting along his bicep. He could feel his face flush, knowing all he could do (rather all he wanted to do) was to stare at  your face in its peaceful entirety. With another look around the room, he pulled your blanket farther up you in order to keep you happily secured, nuzzling further into his own in despair of knowing it would be wrong to wake you up.

Your warmth slowly casted on him, feeling him with a sense of ease. Maybe sleep was a good idea, just a nap perhaps.

Oh boy was he wrong. One blink and he was out like a light. The movie ended shortly thereafter with everyone proceeding to leave the area until Denki and Kirishima woke up, looking beside them to see your bodies intertwined slightly with Sero. They knew about your little crushes on each other and decided to let you two wake up on your own accord. Maybe just maybe you’d finally tell each other how you feel without all of the pussyfooting. But not without snapping a picture and sending it to the group chat, hiding thereafter for when either of you seek them out for revenge.

[kaleldobrev]

The Day Before

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dean comforts you when you get a migraine

Word Count: 743

Warnings: None, just soft!Dean & Fluff

Authors Note: Yes, I did in fact write this while on my monthly, sue me | If you have never experienced a migraine, I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Your head was pounding as the lights were off and you were tucked underneath the blankets and pillows as if you were in some sort of dark cave in the middle of the night. As much as you didn't want to be under all of these pillows and blankets, it was the only way you could remotely function right now, as even the slightest amount of light streaming in from the hallway had bothered your eyes.

When you had a migraine, it was hard for you to do anything, as your eyes were insanely sensitive to any and all amount of light; even the minimal light from your phone screen had bothered you. All you wanted to do was just lie down and not do anything. One of the worst parts, is sometimes, even when you had taken Excedrin — which was usually the cure all migraine medication for you — it would sometimes simply just turn your migraine into a headache. A headache for you was manageable, but still, you didn't want any kind of head pain.

As you were about to fall asleep, you heard the bedroom door open, and you refused to look up as you knew that more light would have been streaming into the room, which would have made things worse for you. "Sweetheart you in here?" Dean asked. Normally, you loved his voice, but right now it was just another pain to you as his voice sounded louder than normal.

"Yes," you said, your voice muffled. "Please don't turn on the lights, and keep the door shut. And please don't talk so loud."

"What? I'm sorry Y/N, I didn't hear you," he said, his voice the same volume as before. You took a deep breath, counting to five. You didn't want to snap at him, that was the last thing that you had wanted to do, but at the same time, repeating yourself was something that you had hated doing.

You uncovered yourself from your makeshift pillow and blanket cave and began speaking just a bit louder. "I said, please don't turn on the lights, and please keep the door shut," you said. "I have a massive migraine right now."

"Oh Sweetheart," he said, lowering his voice, a second later he shut the door behind him. "Is it that warning migraine you get before your period or just a run of the mill one?"

You sighed. "Period."

"Ah," he replied. "Say no more." Dean walked over to his closet and pulled out a couple of towels before walking back over to the door. He kneeled down, and placed the towels in front of the door so the light from the hallway wouldn't be streaming into the room anymore.

Dean had never once in his life experienced a migraine, the closest he ever got to experiencing them is when you would have them, or when you had described to him the way that they felt. From the way you had acted, and from the way you had described them, it was a type of pain that he wished he could help you get rid of permanently. But even though there was no way for him to transfer the pain from you to him, the best he could do in the moment was try and help you in any way that he could.

Once he placed the towels in front of the door blocking the light so now it was pitch black in the room, he took of his boots and jeans and got underneath the covers with you. "Come here Sweetheart," he said softly, holding his arms out for you to come over to him. You switched positions, so now your face was buried into his chest, your head tucked underneath his chin as his arms completely wrapped around you. "You took your Excedrin already?"

You nodded into his chest. "Yeah, it's not working," you said weakly. He kissed the top of your head, and you nuzzled yourself deeper into his chest. "But you being here helps."

"I'll always be here to help you Sweetheart," he said. "With whatever you need."

You felt yourself start to slowly drift off to sleep, despite the slight pounding still going on in your head. When you had told Dean that him being here with you did in fact help you, you truly did mean it; and you were thankful that he would always be there to help you with whatever you needed.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @jackles010378 @mrsjenniferwinchester @syrma-sensei @k-slla @justletmereadfanfic @deans-daydream If you'd like to be added to a tag list, let me know!

[theworldofotps]

Painting (Drabble)

Pairing: Lord Debling x Reader Word Count: 743 Description: Y/n is struggling with a painting when she recieves some much needed help.

So, I have never written fanfiction for Bridgerton before but after watching the first half of season 3 and meeting Lord Debling I couldn't help myself. I'm also very nervous to post this because it's a bit out of my comfort zone but I hope you enjoy anyway.

Dedicated to: @madhatterbri who encouraged me to write this, helped form the plot and is overall one of the best. I appreciate you so much thank you! (I haven't added my normal tag list since those are usually just for wrestling. If you'd like to be added to a tag list of anything I write besides wrestling let me know!) __________ Y/n let out a soft huff as she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, staring at the canvas in front of her. She’d spent the last two hours trying to paint a bird from the book set on a stool in front of her. This was a painting she just didn’t want to mess up on but the more she stared at it the worse it seemed to look.

“Is everything alright m’lady?”

“Yes Ruth, just having a bit of difficulty getting these colors to work and blend the way that I wish them too.”

“Please let me know when you are ready, and I shall draw the bath for you.”

“Thank you, Ruth.”

Watching the maid leave, Y/n turns back towards her painting and examines the book once more. Adjusting the apron she wore over her dress to keep from ruining it, she dipped into her paints again. More time passed and her frustrations only grew as the colors started running and made the bird look like a mess.

Dropping the paintbrush in the pot of water she hung her head in defeat, deciding to just start all over again. Not having heard the door open she nearly jumped, feeling a pair of arms wrapping around her before a chuckle sounded in her ear.

“Sorry to startle you love I thought you heard me enter.”

“That’s alright my lord I just was focusing on something else.”

Alfred glanced around to be sure they were alone before pressing a soft kiss to her neck.

“Tell me what’s the matter.”

“I’m trying to paint this bird and all of my colors keep running I’ve spent hours on it but alas to no avail.”

Remaining silently as his eyes drifted over the canvas in front of them, since they had began courting he was trying to take interest in her hobbies. When he found out she had a love for painting much like his mother, it was one he quickly did his best to learn all he could about it.

“Allow me to offer my assistance to you.”

Grabbing her hand gently together they picked up the brush, the sparks of electricity she felt as they moved together dipping into her paint pallet. She could barely concentrate at the feel of him pressed against her back. When the brush touched the canvas, she let out a soft laugh.

“What is it brining you such joy my dear?”

“Your beard tickles my cheek.”

Y/n spoke softly as his own smile grew to match hers the two talking in soft whispers as he helped her fix the once ruined picture.

“What do you think?”

“It looks so much better thank you for your help now we both must sign it.”

She said pointing to the feather quill and pot of ink sat on the desk a few feet away from them, Alfred reached over grabbing the quill. Signing the name Debling then placing the quill in her hand so she could sign her last name.

Placing it back in the ink pot Y/n slowly turned to face him their eyes meeting hers lighting up as his softened.

“Miss. Y/n  I know this may come forth as a bit forward but may I kiss you?”

He asked a slight nervous quiver to his voice if you listened close enough she remained silently causing him to clear in throat. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel pressured into anything. After a moment her smile grew as she leaned closer to him their lips brushing in the softest touch before a knock on the door sent them apart. Composing themselves she turned to see Ruth entering one more.

“Excuse me miss but your mother is looking for you.”

“Thank you, Ruth please tell her, that I will be right there.”

Ruth nodded, leaving them alone again y/n sighing softly she turned back to Alfred who gently touched her cheek.

“I must be going as it is rather late, I shall call upon you tomorrow afternoon would that be alright?”

“Yes, I would enjoy that very much my lord.”

The pair left the room and y/n saw him to the front entrance, his fingers once more touching her cheek in a bid farewell. Watching him leave she sighed her arms wrapping around herself, the thought of his arms around her caused her face to heat up. Turning, she went off in search of her mother.

[lil-elle]

Heyyy!! Can you pleeease do a maknae line version of the hickey reaction too please?

Well you ask, and I deliver 🙏

XIKERS Maknae line when you give them a Hickey

pairs: bf!xikers x fem!reader

genre: established relationship, fluff, suggestive

word count: 743

content: marking, kisses

a/n: i did kinda want to do this since most of my bias line is in the maknae line 😭

Junghoon:

Just completely freezes up, eyes going wide, heartbeat speeding up, ears going red

He'd be so so so embarrassed and at the same time so shocked because he didn't even think you were the type to do something like that, and he's a little embarrassed about how much he likes it

He wouldn't really make much of an effort to hide it, though, even if he's going to hang out with the guys, because he'll just hit back any of the teasing they have for him “well at least I can get one of these”

The next time you two are making out, he'd shyly ask you to leave another one, admitting to himself and you that he loves the way they look

He'd also be too embarrassed to try giving you one, although he wants to. He'd need your encouragement

-

Seeun:

As soon as he notices it in the mirror he's smirking and chuckling with surprise, shocked and amused that you'd ever be bold enough to leave something like that on him

He'd immediately go up to you and yap you on the shoulder, pulling the collar of his shirt and leaning down to give you full view of it, a smile overtaking his face as you go beet red

He'd grab you by the waist and lift you up, telling you you're so cute and teasing you until you're practically begging him to stop

He's another one that wouldn't cover it up, not embarrassed by it at all, if anything he's proud of it, and of you. He's just so happy and grateful to have you

From then on you'd be lucky to escape a makeout session with him without at least one or two marks, and he'd be constantly urging you to give him some too. He just loves them so much, thinks they're so intimate

-

Yujun:

Would immediately go red seeing it, he'd have no idea what to do. Should he bring it up to you? Should he cover it? Should he leave it?

You'd find him fumbling with things in the bathroom, asking him what he's looking for. He'd refuse to turn to look at you, you'd have to force him around

You'd meet his incredibly red face and the mark you made on his neck and you'd just stand there, jaw dropped, you didn't think it'd leave a mark

You'd awkwardly help him cover it with concealer, both of you silent and flustered. His mind would just be full of flashbacks of whatever you two were doing when you gave him that mark, he wouldn't even be able to speak until you're done

He'd never say it out loud when you two are making out but he'd always want you to leave more marks. He'd also desperately want to leave them on you, the only thing holding him back being his shyness

-

Hunter:

Would see it in the mirror and just chuckle at first, sort of surprised but not thinking much of it

He'd cover it up himself, making it so no one (including you) had any idea he had one at all

He'd bring it up later when you two were making out again, using it to tease you since you had no idea you gave him one

He'd want you to give him so many, telling you it's okay because he knows perfectly how to cover them up himself, he'd also help you cover up any he put on you

He'd also want to put them all over you, not shy at all in doing so and making you flustered telling you “you look so pretty like this, covered in my marks”

-

Yechan:

He'd definitely be amused and intrigued, leaving the bathroom to question you, teasing you with a smirk on his face

He'd call you cute and tease you but on the inside he's going insane, shocking himself about how much he loves having your mark on him

Although, when you guys are making out again, he wouldn't be at all afraid to tell you just how much he wants to have your mark on him, making you super flustered

He'd only put marks on you if he was feeling particularly jealous or protective, other than that, he'd like just having yours on him

For him, it's like a wedding ring, something that tells other people he's taken. He also likes teasing you like crazy, especially around the guys

-

♡♡♡♡♡♡

TAGLIST:

@hyunromi @chocoeon @hyunukitty @minjaezed @ihyeokzu @cake1box @chiiyuuvv

[excalibur-gone-missing]

Paring: Toru Oikawa x female reader

Requested: no

Genre: smut, female receiving

Warning(s): cunnilingus, figuring, degradation

Summary: Toru eating out his freeuse slut aka you

Word count: 743

Other works

Beta reader: none

disclaimer: this is my first time writing smut, so dont expect it to be stellar (do lemme know if it was good or not)

a/n: I request each and every one of you to comment on this fic don't be a silent reader it helps me as an author to understand my readers and i would love to communicate with all of you. Constructive criticism is always welcomed by me so do talk about this fic or send me an ask.

[permanent taglist] [only for those interested, don’t fill the form otherwise]

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Oikawa was your pretty cute roommate. You both had met during your college days and as dorm partners and had bonded over time. Now, three years after finishing, you both are still going strong as roomies.

He has settled into his big-boy job of playing volleyball full-time, and you have the most boring nine-to-five ever. Although the big-time celebrity he is, plus the wealth that is flowing into his bank, says he is a richie rich dude, but the boy still refuses to move out, and who are you to say otherwise?

Now, the refusal to move has some ulterior motives, but it's not like you were not aware of that. The man is obsessed with you, more like your pussy, so much so that he refuses to let you have a moment of peace in the house when you both are alone.

The fact that neither of you are in a relationship helps a lot in contributing to it, not like a simple boyfriend would stop the man from bending you over in the most obnoxious place and ramming his cock into you, but surely it would create a bit of hindrance, and no one likes those.

To put it in the most simplest from, you are his personal free-use slut; that’s what you are. You could deny it, but you know it as well as he does, that you'd bend in the middle of a crowded street if he wanted you to.

Not like he actually wanted that to happen, but you get the point. So, as a general rule in the house, it is forbidden for you to wear panties or a bra, not like you liked to do so anyways. He liked having access to your pussy at all times of the day so that he could always take you anywhere and everywhere.

 Just like this time, when he came back from the gym all sweaty and thirsty, for your pussy.

Walking into the house, he looks around for you only to find you on the balcony tending to those basil plants you have started growing a few months ago. Leaving his gym bag on the couch, he strides over to you and without a single word, he pushes you towards the railing of the balcony and, bending down, he settles himself between your legs.

“Been thinking about you all day,” he says from between your legs and without letting you answer, he pulls down your shorts to get the view of your glistening pussy, with its puffy lips.

“Did you play with yourself while I was away?” he asks, looking at you, only for you to let out a flustered whine.

“I just edged myself, Toru, I couldn’t cum,” you say, thoroughly flustered.

“Dumb whore can’t even make herself cum without my cock, that’s what you needed, wasn’t it?” he laughs as you vigorously nod.

Without wasting another moment, he dives into your pussy, licking a long stripe of it and sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. With each and every lick it becomes even harder for you to keep your voice lower, eventually your screams pierce through the quite evening, making sure to let all the pedestrians know who is eating you out so well.

Latching his face further into your heat, he adds two fingers inside you and immediately starts curling them. Your essence dripping onto his tongue is like heaven, sweeter than any candy he could ever have.

While letting out lewd breathy moans, you grip his hair hard as he keeps abusing your cunt.

“To-toru, ahh-”

“Yes, scream my name, slut, let the world know who makes you go all dumb over his tongue,” he groans.

“Toru, I’m gonna-”

Before you could complete your sentence, the waves of pleasure hit you harder than anything else. With a loud scream of his name, you come all over his face and like a starved man, he drinks you up till the last drop of your cum is gone and you are shaking with overstimulation.

Emerging from between your thighs, he gives your pussy a quick slap, saying, “I'm gonna go take a shower, I expect you to be naked on your knees beside my bed, slut.”

With that, he is out, leaving you to shakily walk into the house towards his bedroom, because what Toru wants he gets, and you are no one to deny him the pleasure he so politely asked you for.

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a/n: again if you have read till the end do tell me how you liked it, and thanks for reading.

[bossuary]

taking the deal [AO3]

Rating: M Fandom: Dragon Age: The Veilguard Pairing: Lucanis Dellamorte x Emmrich Volkarin Tags: healing, hands and fingers, hurt/comfort, deep kissing, lap-sitting, someone finally touches that slutty waist, Lucanis makes a cheese joke Word Count: 743

Summary: when you're trained to focus on everything, that's what you do. like whether you'll get an infection from-please shut up. let the handsome necromancer kiss your goddamn wounds. you both deal necrotic damage ffs.

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Emmrich moved onto the table beside him, shifting close, stopping Lucanis from buttoning his shirt. Stopping him from pretending he wanted to. 

“So, there are easier ways to get close,” Lucanis said, with a small nod of self-reproach. “Good to know.”

It wasn’t as if Emmrich hated this. The damage had been a little more severe than Lucanis had bargained for. But, with the good professor sitting close enough now to share a coffin, it was evident he liked this part.

“Your, um, novel approach got us here, now,” Emmrich said, low and inviting. He swept Lucanis’ hair aside. “Want to see where else it leads?”

The instant Lucanis nodded, Emmrich bent to press a firm, lingering kiss on one of the wounds striping across his shoulder.

Emmrich’s mouth was hot, and welcome. Lucanis leaned in. Fingers cupped the back of his head with just enough pressure to coax. A second kiss skimmed atop another wound, higher. Lucanis braced a hand on Emmrich’s thigh. Pinpoints of information, brief but disruptive, flashed at him: the dual tempo of heartbeats increasing, the scent of blood fading to herbal green salve, and sympathetic wisps buzzing faintly in their candle-like flicker.

And, in a dismal corner of his mind, there was still Spite, who gibbered about wounds, infections, and mouths. 

Lucanis heard his own hoarse voice say, “Isn’t that bad for–” 

A swift intake of breath sucked down whatever words might have followed, as Emmrich kissed his neck again. This was higher, behind his beard, along the juncture of jaw and ear. The skin there was sensitive. With every kiss and nuzzle, Lucanis made small, unresolved sounds in his throat, each one breaking on the last. 

His left hand tightened on Emmrich’s thigh.

“If you were a little less reckless,” Emmrich rumbled against his skin, just beneath his ear, “think of all the places it would be safe to kiss you.”  

So far, Emmrich had kept things light and unhurried, giving Lucanis space to assess, adapt, and respond. It didn’t take long. Spite wouldn’t have it. Lucanis was coming out of his skin, burning for more contact. He twisted to face Emmrich.

“I’ll take that deal.” 

He guided Emmrich’s face close to his own, and brought their lips together. Tender, teasing pressure, and light flicks of tongue tips quickly drove them into a deeper kiss. Lucanis moved his hand from Emmrich’s thigh to brace himself on the tabletop. The loss of contact elicited a barely-there groan from Emmrich, though his mouth and tongue remained dedicated to the kiss. His left hand snaked around Lucanis, splayed across his lower back, and dragged him close. 

Lucanis responded the way his body was trained to respond to most physical situations. Usually, in combat, this meant maneuvering for maximum damage, blocking, or escape.

In this case, with his lips hungrily locked to Emmrich’s, and his body twitching for more touch, the optimal move was to throw his right leg over Emmrich’s hip, and roll up until he was seated on Emmrich’s lap, with both knees on the table.

He could use his hands freely now. He gathered Emmrich to him with one hand gripping silver hair, and the other on his shoulder. Emmrich kissed his chest, his clavicle, his mouth. He drew out the kiss while he tugged Lucanis’ shirt out of the waistband of his trousers.

“That was…a surprise.” Emmrich was breathing hard when he pulled back to gaze up at Lucanis, his hair mussed and his pupils wide. “A marvelous one.”

He hadn’t meant the slick move that put Lucanis in his lap. His appreciation for that was hard to miss. He’d meant the kiss, which seemed to have pleased and dazed him as much as it had Lucanis.

Lucanis smirked. “We don’t get many of those.”

Emmrich’s hands circled his waist and pushed up under the loose shirttail, idly stroking a shiver from Lucanis’ overheated skin.

“Not lately,” said Emmrich, a little more melancholy than Lucanis liked.

He dipped his head to capture Emmrich’s mouth again. Hands tightened around his waist. He rocked, flexing his hips, bringing friction to bear on his own rigid cock and Emmrich’s. They shared a groan, passed from tongue to tongue behind raw lips. 

Emmrich broke the kiss. 

“Perhaps the dining table isn't the setting for this,” he murmured, though his hands continued roving.

Lucanis was slipping vest buttons from buttonholes.

“My place is close,” he deadpanned, “but I have aging roommates.”

Notes: this is my FOURTH Lucanis x Emmrich tumblr ficlet. this one was inspired by this art from @ibahibut, give them some love! it's their birthday <3