#be warned that 2k of those words are outline

[halfmoonaria]

not allowed

pairing: prof!sam carpenter x student!female reader

summary: sam does something thats certainly not allowed.

words: 2k

warnings: age gap, sexual content, language.

Sam's love life was completely dull and uneventful, it was something she's very self aware of.

It was almost tragic how lonely she was.

Although she knew she should have had an active love life; being a professor brought opportunities for intellectual conversations, networking events, and collaborative projects, which should've brought at least some kind of connections to her.

But it didn't.

All of Sam's colleagues were polite and all, but they were all so much older than her, she couldn't find herself relating to relate to any of them.

And besides, dating wasn't her thing. Since the last time she had thought she found the right person, she almost ended up dead along with her sister.

Sam could never trust anyone enough to date them. All the blame for the lack of trust rested on her previous psycho ex.

Richie had left a scar on her body, and it wasn't in the form of a stab wound.

Despite the loneliness and the lack of company, Sam loved her job.

She loved the subject she was teaching, and her colleagues were actually pretty decent.

The biggest bonus was that she got a good paycheck. She didn't have to work two jobs that could barely pay the rent for her and Tara's apartment.

And to Sam's own surprise and satisfaction, the students didn't seem to whisper about her or spread the rumors that had been on the internet ever since the murders in Woodsboro.

Most of Sam's classes were filled with jocks, party-goers or just genuinely stupid people. After all, the school she taught at had a reputation for attracting a more socially-oriented crowd rather than focusing on academic excellence.

Sam wasn't really the kind of teacher that had a big connection with her classes, sure she would crack awkward jokes in class occasionally and greet them in the hall, but no more than that.

It never felt important to her, she was there to teach, to work and to get her salary.

But then there was you.

Sam never payed attention to the people that entered the classroom, or on what place they chose to sit in for the rest of the lesson. But with you, she did.

You had caught her attention the second her eyes got in contact with your figure. It had been when she was about to introduce herself in front of the class, her first day.

The way you had looked at her when she spoke didn't make you seem like the cocky or popular type, however the outfits you chose to wear to school told her otherwise.

Skirts that were either the size of a belt or skirts that would totally show your entire ass if you bent over the slightest. And if it wasn't minimal skirts it was low waisted jeans that showed the top of your underwear.

Tiny and tight crop tops that would show the exact outline and shape of your breasts.

Sam was shocked when she found out the college didn't have a dress code, since it allowed students like you to dress like models straight out from a 90s porno.

Based on the choice of clothing you thought was school appropriate, made Sam think that you were one of those popular mean girls that she used to absolute gush over in high school.

But you didn't seem to be like that. Sure, you were popular, but that was because of your prettiness, not because you were rude or that people were scared of you. Because in fact, nobody was scared of you.

You were loyal. You were friends with technically everyone, including the teachers.

From what Sam had seen in the halls and in the classroom, you always had a smile on your face, greeting everyone you saw with a wave and the smile that looked as if the person you were talking to had hung the stars.

Sam thought it was impressive how much beauty can do for a person. The way everybody loved you because you were pretty, everybody.

Although Sam didn't think much about your scandalous outfits or the way you admired Sam every time she made eye contact with you during briefings.

Not until you had began to walk towards her desk after class had been finished.

The way you would call her 'Mrs Carpenter'. Just like you should've, just like everyone else did, yet it sounded so different.

At first it had only been a simple question about an assignment, but then you started to stop by after every single lesson.

Sam tried to act like normal, responsible. But it was almost impossible when you would slightly lean forward, basically forcing Sam's gaze to your chest. Your hushed and low voice did it for her as well. You talked as if it was secret, as if nobody else was allowed to hear.

She was starting to think that it was all on purpose, that it was all because you wanted a better grade that you couldn't accomplish by yourself.

Sam knew for a certain that she wouldn't give in, she wouldn't give in because you tried to 'flirt' with her, it might've worked with your other professors but it definitely wouldn't work with her.

Sam was stubborn and incredibly obstinate, but she was also very insecure, alongside having no self respect. Most times when she would tell herself to avoid doing something, her lack of confidence would make her do it regardless.

Weeks passed and you didn't stop. You asked Sam for help after every single class.

You spoke to her in a flirty and hushed voice,  Sam had tried to talk back normally, but she would be lying if she couldn't hear her own voice sounding flirty as well.

Sam didn't know what she was doing, you were her student. But you made it so incredibly difficult for her to act like it.

You were gorgeous, model material. But that wasn't the problem. The problem was that you were aware of it, you knew how pretty you were, you knew exactly how to act around people to get your way.

She couldn't understand what was happening, but when you were with her, Sam felt this subtle flutter whenever you approached or just looked at her.

Sam had never felt that feeling before, not even when she was with Richie.

So instead of telling herself you did that with all your teachers, she began thinking that maybe, just maybe you did it because you actually liked her. Even though it wasn't allowed.

Sam was starved. Not from food starvation or hunger, but from love and touch. And she knew it was wrong to think that way when it was about you, it was so wrong.

But it was just thoughts right? Nobody could hear them.

That's what she had thought, but it was like you could read her mind.

Your attempts of trying to make Sam give in got more and more intense. You would touch her hands, standing close up to her and compliment her.

Eventually, Sam's mouth had moved faster than her mind could process. She had accepted your request for her to tutor you.

Sam knew that you didn't actually want tutoring, you were passing the subjects enough to graduate, unlike everybody else in your class. She knew that this was your attempt to flirt even more.

She knew she should've cancelled. The thought still haunted her, what would've happened if she did? Everything would've been so different.

However, Sam didn't cancel. And it turned out exactly like she thought it would.

You had insisted to sit beside her, and not in front of her. You would make sure your arms touched, that you spoke closely to her ear, you would bite your lips and toe flirt with her.

You were bold, so bold that it made you look hotter than Sam thought was possible.

Sam was desperate for something to change so she wouldn't feel the desire to be touched. Her body was craving a touch that wasn't from herself, not from anybody but you.

She felt disgusted by her own thoughts, every single thought her mind managed to convey was about you.

Next thing she knew, your lips had landed on hers. And Sam just couldn't pull away, her mind wasn't working properly. She had kissed you back.

But when her mind started to fall back in place, she pulled away, panic rushing through her as she had scanned the place, making sure nobody had seen it.

She had kissed her student, in a library. A public library.

Her mind had done this before. When she had been on top of Richie, knife going in and out of his chest, blood being the only thing that could be seen. It was like a blackout, Sam didn't know what she was doing, but at the same time, she knew exactly. But it had felt too good to stop. Just like it had been with you.

When you got the confirmation of Sam wanting the same thing, you had pulled her into the bathroom stall, where Sam couldn't help but kiss you just as hungrily as she had done in her disgusting thoughts.

Nothing mattered when your hands were roaming her body. The fact that you were her student and she was your teacher didn't seem to matter at all in that moment.

Sam couldn't understand what her mind was doing to her. This was like another one of those blackouts, where she couldn't think about the consequences of the things she was doing.

Like now, when she found herself in her own bed tangled up in the sheets, with you next to her.

Bare.

Her mind was all over the place. Thoughts racing through her mind like the traffic in New York, making her head feel like it was about to explode.

She couldn't show you the panic she was feeling about the whole situation. Because that would make you think she regretted it. And she didn't, god no she didn't.

You were so gentle yet bold at the same time. You made sure to ask for permission before doing everything, but you did everything so well.

Your touch was everything Sam's body had craved for months, it was nothing like she had done before. Your touch basically boiled on her skin.

You worshipped Sam in ways she didn't even know existed. The ways you touched her felt so good that she couldn't begin to understand what you were doing.

It had all felt so good that Sam could barely remember it. She remembered moaning, she remembered the satisfaction in it all; the warmth, the passion and the wetness.

Looking down at your figure laying against her, legs tangled up in each other, to see that your eyes were already on her. Your beautiful eyes filled with curiosity and admiration was inspecting her face, fingers smoothly running through her hair.

"What're you thinking about?" Your voice came out as a whisper, voice cracking from the lack of talking; words had not been the priority just minutes before.

When Sam made eye contact with you, all the worries faded away. She could be fired because of this, because of you, yet you were the person who could make the worries bluntly disappear.

Sam's lips curled into a gentle smile when she looked at you, bringing up her finger to subtly caress your cheek. "That this won't help you get a better grade.." She lied, a faint laugh escaping from her lips.

You smirked up at her before planting a kiss on her lips. "Please Mrs Carpenter. I promise I'll do better next time." Sarcasm laced your voice, and if Sam hadn't heard that, she would be panicking.

The fact that you had called her 'Mrs Carpenter' made her stomach twirl, sparkles flying around in it. Just like it had done when you moaned it a few minutes ago.

Although the twirls quickly turned into guilt. She shouldn't be doing this, she shouldn't be in bed with you, let alone be in her own apartment with you.

It truly didn't matter how many excuses she tried to make for herself, it wasn't right, and she should've been disgusted with herself.

She was a professor at a college who had fucked her student. And for obvious reasons, that just wasn't allowed.

#melissa barrera x reader #sam carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #melissa barrera #jenna ortega x reader #mabel x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #vada cavell x reader #wednesday addams x reader

[skyof-atlas]

Sandstorms

Pairing(s): Cyno, Tighnari, and Candace x afab!reader 

Warnings: breeding, pet names, fingering, oral, usage of the term “mommy”, biting, dumb-fucked, cuddles, whimpering. 

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple commission for easy Mora. You were coming back from taking photos and gathering relics for the person who commissioned you. (Supposedly they were busy with something else). A sandstorm abruptly swept through forcing you to take shelter. However your savior(s) have come to help.

A/N: describing things is a thing i'm working on and hv no clue how. I imagine it…wait..i can just dra–! 

I can’t write for men…Apologies. I’m a woman enthusiast but won’t mind writing for men. 

MDNI 

words: 2k

Cyno: 

Cyno happened to run into you just before the sandstorm hit. He led you to a cave nearby and said that it was best to stay in until after the sandstorm passes. 

Both of you started chatting about many things. You asked about how he like being mahamatra and he asked you about you life as an adventurer. 

Somehow the conversation ended up about relationships and how you weren't really looking for someone who couldn’t keep the same pace as you. 

He could relate. You admitted that you had a crush on him back when you were both students at the Akademiya.

From there everything is a blur…

“Cy..-Cyno-“ you moaned. His cock buried deep into you as you clawed the floor.  The heat from his body was warming you up more than the campfire. He had a grip on your thighs and refused to let go. 

He kept thrusting in and out. He kept hitting that perfect spot making you see stars and arching your back. The sandstorm didn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. 

His grunts and the sound of skin slapping was echoing through the cave. You were close to coming again and he might be as well, due to the now slow and hard thrust he’s doing. He pulled out making you whine and flipped you over on your belly. 

He quickly lifted your hips higher and closer to him, making to face the cold ground. You turned your head to look at him but he pushed your head back to the ground. 

“What the He— nghh- ahh..” He entered his cock back into you. 

Everytime he thrusted you can feel him gently hitting your cervix with how deep he’s penetrating you. 

“I-…I’m c-..coming Cyno..” 

“Go ahead baby..” He was grunting and his breaths were heavier. 

Fuck. You could feel every part of his cock with how tight you were. You came all over his cock as his cum filled you up. He kept it in order to prevent any of his cum from spilling out. Oh dear Archons he wanted you knocked up. 

“Good girl~ taking it all in” Your pussy tightened around him even more hearing those words. Your were tired and sweaty from the heat. It took him a while to pull out because of how tight you were holding onto him. He then made sure to clean you up and let you sleep after that. 

You should bring him with you more often.

Tighnari: 

Tighnari insisted on coming with you and reluctantly you said yes. Now both you were stuck in a cave waiting out this sandstorm. 

“It’s going to be awhile until the storm passes.” Tighnari said as he added more sticks into the fire. 

“Ah. Damn, at least the photos are safe.” You said checking the photos to see if they were actually safe.

“Hey ‘Nari I’m gonna take a nap.” He nodded and you laid down and decided to take a nap. 

You don’t know how long it’s been since you fell asleep but you woke up to a whine and grunts. 

“Tighnari?” you called out for him. The fire was slowly dying out but still provided enough light to see his outline. 

You kneeled beside him and carefully turned him over to see him. His ears were flat down and you could tell he was breathing heavily. 

He curled himself into a ball and whimper. 

“Tighnari? Are you ok?” You asked, worried about his health.

“It’s just a lit–little fever…no worries..” He said trying to maintain his composure, but clearly that wasn’t working. You didn’t believe that it was a fever. 

You placed a hand over his forehead to check for his temperature and instead of a kind response from him, he grabbed your wrists and pinned you down. (dear lord). 

“Please…” He practically moaned. The archons were testing your self-control cause you were about to ravage this man the moment he said please. 

This fine ass man was dry humping your thigh looking for some friction as you laid on the ground dazed. You quickly snapped out of it and you pressed your thigh closer to him. 

“What a pretty sight to see.” You could tell he was getting close to his high by the way he was moving slower but humping harder, but you wanted to have a little more fun with him.

You removed your thigh and stripped your pants and underwear off. You made sure you placed it under you. He understood what you were doing, slightly annoyed at you for stopping but he followed as well. 

You laid him down and positioned yourself on top of him. You started off slow, coating his dick with your own cum. You were going painfully slow, watching him writhe around and while like a cute little dog, it got you excited.

 He was getting annoyed with your antics and forcefully grabbed your hips to lift you up and slam you down straight into him. You moaning loudly at the sudden feeling of being penetrated, but how he filled you up. 

Every thrust made you see stars as strings of moans left your mouth. Your hips started moving on their own, at this rate you could feel the knot in your stomach tighten. 

“I-I’m close” Tighnari grunted out. He clawed into your thighs leaving you crescent shaped moons which made you wince. 

A few more thrust and you came all over him. It wasn’t long until he came inside as well. His cum felt warm and you could feel it dripping down your thighs as you got off him and collapsed next to him. 

He pulled you closer to him and hugged you. 

All you could hear was a thank you and love you as you cuddled him for the remainder of the sandstorm. 

Candace:

It’s been a couple of hours since this sandstorm started and you took shelter in a nearby cave that had some abandoned stuff. 

You rummaged through the things to see what you could find, not much but there was a couple of books, food, and sticks. You noticed a broken cup and decided to move it out the way. As you picked up the shards and placed them in a box, a small shard cut your hand.

“Fuck! Ow…whatever..” 

You weren't far from Aaru village, but this sandstorm would sweep you away if you tried. 

“Y/N?” You heard someone call your name from the entrance of the cave. You turned your head towards the person calling your name and found Candace standing there. 

“Candace? What are you doing here?” You asked.

“Looking for you of course..I got worried when you didn’t come back and assumed you got stuck in the storm.” She said, as she walked over to where you set up a little fire and sat down next to you. 

“How…? How did you get through the sandstorm???” You were hella confused on how this woman managed to find you in this crazy ass sandstorm.

“My shield helped and I know my way through the desert.” She smiled and looked down at your hand. 

“Your hand is bleeding.” She took your hand and noticed some gauze in one of the boxes near you and took it. 

“Oh. I accidentally picked up a broken vase and cut myself.. No big deal.”

“Y/N! You could’ve gotten an infection. I don’t like when you get hurt, you know this.” Candace spoke with a gentle soft voice that made your heart flutter. You chuckled and looked away embarrassed. 

“Yeah I know…sorry Candace…It won’t happen again” You felt her finish wrapping your hand. You were going to check out your hand to see the job well done, but she grabbed your chin and made you look at her. She stared at you intently, looking at every feature you had. 

“C-Candace??!” You stuttered out. It took you by surprise and your heart rate increased. 

“Making sure your pretty face isn’t injured.” You were now staring at her with a flustered face. 

Your eyes trailed down from her gorgeous heterochromic eyes down to her lips. It seemed like she caught on at where you were looking at because the next thing she did was lean into you barely brushing her lips onto yours. Her hands cupping the back of your neck and finally kissing you. 

The next couple things were a blur as clothes went flying and her mouth latched onto your neck. 

“Nghh—- wa-wait!” She pushed you back flat to the ground. 

“So wet already? Just for me?” You could feel her breath close, you threw your head back and covered your eyes in embarrassment. 

She noticed this and grabbed your arms and placed them near your side holding them there. You could see her look up at you from her position, her eyes were filled with lust and admiration. 

She gave a quick kiss on your thigh before diving into your soaking cunt. 

“Such a good girl for me. What a divine taste.” She ate you out like it was her last meal. Her hot tongue played with your clit, gently sucking and biting it as you bucked your hips into her face and hands tangling into her hair. 

For each passing minute, your orgasm was nearing. Her tongue was doing some damage but not enough for you to reach your high.  

“Please— i need moreee” Your voice came out as a whine. Eyes were glossy and drool was dripping down your mouth. 

“Mmm what the magic word darling?” She asked with a sly smirk plastered on her lips. Her fingers teased your entrance and you moaned out. 

“Ngh-ah– M-mommy…pleaseee~” Now your face is completely red. It didn’t even register in your head what you said until it came out. You didn’t care, all you wanted was to cum all over her fingers. 

Her 2 fingers slipped into you easily and started pumping in and out, hitting that sweet spot. Moans and screams of her names left your mouths like a prayer on repeat. 

She added a 3rd finger and pumping harder but slower, making you go stupid. 

“My good slut~ taking it all in easily~” She said in such an angelic voice. She left marks all over your inner thigh. Pretty purple colored your thighs now. 

“‘ s’good…mommyyy!” Praises flowed out of her mouth which made you even more wet than before. 

All you could hear was the sinful sounds coming from your cunt. Her mouth latched back onto your clit, providing more stimulation. Your brain turned to mush and it was no longer moaning of her name but just babble. 

“A-aahh... Ahn... Candace—!!!”  Her fingers kept moving and her mouth sucked. Not a single moment did she stop. 

“O-oh…AHH- COMING!!” Suddenly the knot burst, coming all over her face. You were near passing out but still felt her fingers leave and her tongue licking up all your cum. 

Your vision was blurring and your body felt like jelly. She sat on your lap and sucked on your neck leaving marks. This women had a mission to mark you. 

“That was a nice appetizer, but I'm ready for the main course~” She said, licking her fingers while smirking. 

Archons bless you because you won’t be able to walk, but it will be all worth it. 

#genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x you #cyno x reader #tighnari x reader #candace x reader #cyno smut #tighnari smut #candace smut #tighnari genshin #cyno genshin impact #candace genshin

[goblinontour]

Cover Me In You

things take an unexpected turn in class when your professor catches you misbehaving ;)

warnings: dom!alex, age gap (not mentioned but reader is his student), power imbalance, smut, pwp, pet names, degrading, oral (m receiving)

word count: 2k

Professor Turner’s class always makes you nervous. You find yourself attracted to him.

Badly.

And you can’t help but stare at him every single time.

You think you are being smooth, but he always notices, and you kind of know he does. You caught him looking at you too a couple of times. You vividly remember one time he was sat in his chair, legs crossed, playing with his beard as he was looking directly into your eyes and he licked his lips. It drove you crazy and you couldn’t stop thinking about it all week.

Today though he looks especially good. Way too good. He is wearing some beige dress pants that show off everything just right, and his usual white shirt, perfectly tucked in. You want to keep a memory of him like that forever, so you can look back at it after class, that being the only time you ever see him. It’s as if he disappears after he walks out those doors, you’ve never seen him walking the halls or anything. So you take you phone out of your bag and take a picture of him while he was looking out the window. No way he could’ve noticed…right…?

At the end of class when he dismisses everyone, he asks you to stay behind for a bit, so you just remain in your seat, confused as to what he could possibly want from you. You never cause any trouble, you do quite well in his class actually.

When everyone is gone he gets up and slowly walks to the door to shut it and you gasp internally when you hear him lock it. He doesn’t say anything for what felt like an eternity. He out of nowhere just says “Want me to fuck you, don’t you?”

You don’t know what to say, you just sit, looking at him completely dumbfucked from what he just blurted out, mouth agape in pure shock. He gets closer to your desk, grabs your chin and closes your mouth for you. “You’ll need to open that later, for now it stays shut.” you simply nod, his touch still burning your skin even though his hand left your face. “Think I didn’t notice you sneakily taking that photo of me?” you can’t think of anything else to say other than “Sorry, Mr Turner…”, looking down at the floor. You can’t look at him, your face is red from embarrassment already. “I asked you a question though…do you want me to fuck you?” he said, enunciating every word in that last bit. “I already know the answer to that actually…so don’t bother anymore. Come here.”

You follow him to his desk, where he crosses his arms across his chest and looks down at you, your height difference just making it clearer who’s in charge in this moment.

“Give me your phone.” and you do as he says. “Go on now.” he says, as he points with his eyes to his crotch, and that’s when you notice he is hard, his pants making it very easy for you to see the shape of his cock. He leans back on his arms and waits, expecting you to know what you’re supposed to do. You nervously fiddle with the ruffles on your shirt and he chuckles at your demeanour. “Pretty girl’s all shy now, isn’t she? You weren’t shy when you were staring at me and you even had the nerve to take pictures of me, so go on. On your knees now, doll.”

You do as he says, not like you weren’t practically drooling for him, you just didn’t think this would actually ever happen. Your hands go to his waistband but you stop, unsure if he’s just making fun of you or something, or if he really means for you to do what you think he means. You look up at him and he nods for you to go on. You undo his belt, unzip his pants and push them down. He was big. You could even see the outline of his head now through just his black boxers that even have a wet patch from the precum leaking. You push those down as well and your eyes go wide when you see how huge he actually is as his cock is freed from its confines. He is so hard, his tip flushed. It’s begging for attention.

Your attention.

You grab his cock in your hand and you can’t even wrap your fingers all around. It is thick and the head is so fat, poking out from under the bit of foreskin there. You aren’t sure if you can even fit it in your mouth.

“Are you sure about this, sir?” you ask him. You wanted it bad but can’t help feeling insecure about it, how could he possibly like you like that?

“Shut the fuck up and get to work.” he says as he grabs your head and pushes it to his cock. You start by kissing his tip, softly, and he hisses as you take him in your mouth and play around with your tongue on his head. You start to suck him off and stroke him with both your hands at the same time, but that isn’t gonna work for him. He is already frustrated from all of this, which he considers you teasing him, and he’s not about to let you do that, so he grabs you by your hair and pulls you off him.

“Do better than that.” And you try. You try taking him as far into your mouth as you can, but it still isn’t enough. He grabs you hard by the cheeks, his cock still in your mouth, and he takes your phone from his desk and starts recording the sight beneath him. Your bulging cheeks and swollen lips around his cock .

“You wanted photos of me? There you have it. Now be good for god’s sake and take it all” he says as he thrust himself deep down your throat, still filming everything. He moves his other hand to the back of your head, tangled up in your hair. You gag and spit starts running down your chin as he tries to go all the way in, but he stops again, pulling you away, pointing the camera to your face now messed up with both your fluids mixing together.

“I think the little slut can do even better, can’t she?” looking directly into your eyes at that last part. You nod the best you can with him still holding your head tight in place.

“Now open up nice and wide and take it all, can you do that for me?”. You nod desperately, you just want to make him feel good, need his dick back in your mouth. He pushes himself down your throat again, and you take him all this time, your eyes stinging from the tears that start forming as you’re struggling not to gag. He stills and keeps you there, your nose brushing against his lower belly, the bit of hair down there scratchy against your skin. He wasn’t very vocal until now, but he can’t hold back the loud groan from escaping his mouth as you keep him down your perfect warm throat, made just for him.

When he feels you pushing back on his hand he pulls off, not all the way, just so that you could breathe a bit before he starts fucking your mouth. He starts slow, though pace quickly gets faster and more aggressive. He is rough, but you like it, love it. You like being the one to bring him pleasure. You take him well, by now your throat’s been stretched out to fit him just right, so it isn’t that painful anymore.

He is watching your neck as he continues to thrust into you, and with each movement of his he could see the outline of his cock deep inside you. That turns him on to an unbelievable degree, seeing how big he is inside you. He removes his hand from your hair and wraps it around your throat, his fingers delicate, the gesture completely the opposite of how he is using you right now. He doesn’t squeeze at all, he just wants to feel how you stretch to accommodate him, and he caresses your skin softly.

He was getting close by now, his breathing got more and more inconsistent and you could see his shirt starting to stick to his chest in places from the sweat. Through his quiet pants and gasps he mumbles something along the lines of “So good doll, taking me so well…Fuck”.

He slams the phone down on his desk, both his hands grabbing the edge of the dark wood tightly, his knuckles turning white. He lets you take control and finish him off. So you are determined to be good, no, the best. You hollow your cheeks and keep on sucking his dick.

You can feel him twitch inside your mouth so you take him all the way in again and stop there, looking right up at him. His head is thrown back, mouth open, his chest rising rapidly as his breathing became erratic at this point. He pulls you off him again.

“Wanna cum all over your pretty face, princess. Okay?”.

You start stroking him with your hands, he is so, so close, he doesn’t need much more stimulation. He grabs his cock from your hands into his own right one as he cums all over your face. His eyes squeezed shut tightly, his whole face contorting in pleasure. His nose scrunching up is your favourite part of it. You have your tongue out, hoping you could catch a few drops to taste him. He keeps squeezing himself until every last spurt is out, covering you.

You clean him up with your tongue, he was sensitive so you try to be careful.

As you are about to wipe his cum off your face he stops you to grab the phone again. He starts filming once more. “Fucking gorgeous” he mutters, almost as if he’s admiring a masterpiece through the phone screen. His masterpiece.

God, you just can’t wait to look back on that and hear his heavy breathing as he was coming down. You decide to put on a bit of a show for him, so you gather his cum with your finger and wipe it down on your tongue, swallowing all of it once you are done.

He tucks himself back into his boxers and pulls his pants up. You insist on fixing his belt for him though, rubbing your hands down his thighs after that. When you get up he fixes your hair and rubs the side of face in a sweet way, thanking you without actually saying it. He is about to pull you into a kiss when he hears someone outside that snaps him back to reality and your surroundings.

That’s when he goes back to his chair and dismisses you.

“See you next week, miss…?”. That hurts you, you thought he’d at least know your name and you pout, startingto overthink once you realise what you two just did.

“Just kidding love, I know you.” looking at you with a blissed out expression, and you can’t help but start to blush.

“I’ve been watching you for a while, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do this to you”. You give him a small smile, pleased to hear he’s been thinking of you in this way too.

Going back to his first question, you really do want him to fuck you, properly. So hopefully next week means more than just a regular class, cause you for sure won’t forget about what happened today. He won’t either, though he doesn’t say that out loud.

As you are heading towards the door, his hand on your shoulder stops you. “Almost forgot this darling” he hands you back your phone. “Wouldn’t want that now, right?” he says in a playful tone, a slight smirk on his face.

“Oh and…uhm…make sure you send those to me, you have my email.” You simply nod and leave, smiling to yourself.

a/n: wrote this a few weeks ago straight after class, could say i got inspired (ugh…i wish) if there are any mistakes let me know

#alex turner smut #alex turner #alex turner fic #alex turner fanfic #alex turner x you #alex turner x reader #smut #goblinontour

[ddarker-dreams]

Fire & Brimstone. Yan Alucard x F Reader

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, religious themes (specifically relating to Judeo-Christianity), blasphemy, some not SFW implications. Word count: 2k.

You are an instrument of the divine.

However, unlike the shortsighted design of the mortals, you are not limited to any one role. In the Divine Father wills it, you shall sing hymnals in the balcony, sound the drums of the percussion, breathe new life into the woodwinds and brass, and caress or shred the strings according to His tempo. You made good on every order you were charged with, whether it be delivering messages in dreams or wielding a flaming sword so that fallen mankind could not reengage paradise.

This was your testimony, the crowning jewel of existing before the earth itself was formed.

You thought you had done well as a good and faithful servant — brought glory to the one most high.

So why is it when you need Him most, your director has left the stage, leaving you without a baton to follow?

“I see you haven’t bothered messing with your bind’s enchantments in some time,” a baritone voice notes. He has been here longer than he’s seen fit to speak, you know this well, the tangible miasma of malignity permeating the air. The reprobate continues, unbidden as always, “I told you long ago that it’d be no use, didn’t I? If only you had believed me then, you could’ve saved yourself the trouble. Deceit isn’t in my nature.”

He who dwells in the dark encroaches on you from numerous angles, having not yet taken a physical form. Tickling your sides, breathing on the back of your neck, applying the slightest pressure to your chest. Your eyes aren’t blindfolded but they might as well be. He won’t let you see him until he decides it’d humor him. So you’re left unsure of where to look, or glare, to be more accurate; instead alternating your attention between the areas his voice resonates the most.

You lift your head from its resting position to respond. “Should I count you among the saints for this redeeming quality of yours?”

“I’d prefer you didn’t. Their sins might just eclipse mine, especially those of Roman Catholic inclination.”

It wasn’t the audacity of his words or even the blasphemy that stirred you to malady, but the sheer nonchalance that grates your insides like you swallowed barbed wire. He speaks not just to get a rise from you, but to show each unique angle of his depravity, the geometry of which astounds its viewer. Saying these things meant nothing to him. It neither vindicated him nor brought him closer to any goal. No, it is a hedonistic taunt unlike what even the demons would partake in. For they had, twisted as it may be, a vision in their minds to achieve, an apex to reach. Hence their conniving ways.

Not him — Vlad the Impaler, Alucard, Dracula. This isn’t a battle, but the victory feast that follows a successful conquest. He has what he wants.

For he has you.

An angel whose wings, though intact, may not fly; upward and away to the welkin above that is your rightful dwelling place.

There’s a shift in the air. Freezing temperatures bite at your exposed skin and pressure comparable to that which humans experience deep underwater weighs down on you, yet you have no way to defend yourself. The second you draw forth from the well of your innate abilities, it’s absorbed by esoteric runes scrawled alongside the dimension he holds you captive in, the now shining glyphs hungrily lapping up your power.

The runes revert to a dull outline when you give up, feeling drained and utterly vulnerable.

When you gather the strength to reopen your eyes, regret overwhelms you, yet you cannot find the strength to look away.

Alucard sits mere feet away from you on a throne befitting his bottomless avarice. Golden embellishments twist and turn alongside it in elaborate carvings, reminiscent of the era in which he ruled, its cushions deep velvet and plush. His hair is long strands of black, darker than the night sky when no stars are visible. The longer you look, the more convinced you feel that the ends slightly move, as if in a hypnotizing dance. His pallid complexion suits his supernatural inclination, not the slightest flush of life dusting his cheeks. This is compensated for by his billowing frock coat, which boasts a deep crimson hue whose shade is only challenged by the glow of his unblinking eyes.

He drums his long fingers alongside the throne’s arm while resting his chin on his fist. When he speaks, his voice deep enough for shivers to envelop your body, you note the pointedness of his teeth.

“Your thoughts still persist of nothing but a God who has forgotten you, cast you aside for a salivating beast such as myself to do with as I please. Does this not challenge your faith? Are you a fool blinded by ignorance, or a willing victim who’d rather ignore the truth than risk facing reality?”

“My God has not forgotten about me,” is your firm retaliation.

Alucard smiles without a hint of kindness.

“No, he remembers, yet here we are, your prayers unanswered and your cheeks wet by the constant flow of tears. Would you not say that’s worse? For him to know of your suffering and still not come to your aid?”

The chains securing you in place rattle as you fight against them, incensed by his remarks. Instead of surrendering the second you feel too much vitality leave your body, you persist, searing hot pain greeting you in abundance. The pain grows like a crescendo that’s doomed to never reach its peak. Overexertion has you sweating blood, still, you do not stop, his despicable physiognomy spurring you on.

Eventually, he shakes his head and sighs. The pentagram etched into his glove gleams an otherworldly color. With this, he seals your power in its entirety, putting a premature end to your fruitless retaliation. There’s no more energy for you to wring out of yourself. For whatever reason, he allowed you the small dignity of maintaining your divine expression, perhaps to further cement the insurmountable gap in your abilities.

“What is it with pious folk and their obsession with self-induced pain?” He wonders. “You’re no better than the flagellants of old.”

“Did you come here for the sole purpose of mocking me? Is that how you derive your pleasure these days, Count?”

“In part. You must believe me when I say this isn’t my ultimate design, sweet Seraph. It is you who draws this out, prideful thing that you are.”

The jab at your supposed pride is ignored in favor of understanding his more wicked statement. His point about never having technically lied to you stands true, loath as you are to admit it, though that doesn’t mean he won’t start now. Sick premonitions flood your mind. Is there worse damnation awaiting you? Was this but an appetizer of the anguish to come?

“Oh? Does this frighten you, little dove? You’re trembling.”

He’s right. The chains shake in a shrill cacophony, just for a different reason than before.

In the blink of an eye, he is before you, his towering height causing a shadow to eclipse your shivering form. The smooth fabric of his gloved fingers caresses your skin. He lifts your chin upward, forcing you to meet his gaze. Those eyes that have witnessed untold bloodshed swirl with indiscernible emotions. The air in your lungs matters little. Despite its presence, you think you might be drowning.

“Or could it be… that it is I who frightens you so?”

Who wouldn’t be, when the devil himself locked the doors of hell to bar this creature’s entry?

“... Unhand me at once, you have no right to touch my person,” the weak glare you send his way earns nothing but amusement. The squeaking mouse caught inside the lion’s claws lacks the backing to make such bold demands.

“It is a new millennium that we live in, [First]. Such archaic systems are no longer in place,” a tongue too long to be normal wets his lips. Every muscle in your body goes rigid as if you were entering rigor mortis upon sensing his caprice. “I jest, dear, I jest. I have prolonged ravishing you for this long. What are a few centuries more?”

His pointer finger plays with your bottom lip. “I wonder if you could withstand such a lengthy imprisonment. In this form, you’d feel each second drag by, occupied by your thoughts and nothing else. There would be no reprieve, not a singular instance of relief. I’d go so far as to say you’ll look forward to entertaining my company, since it’s the only company you’ll have.”

Give not into temptation. Do not ask what you must do to be freed from this purgatory. He won’t tell you unless you make the query. He wants you to ask. To lower yourself to his level so he may satisfy himself with your humiliation. Temptation is the most blistering when you know that, no matter how hard you try to convince yourself, there are two paths that you could take. You want to convince yourself that there is no other choice. His assessment of calling you a willing victim to ignorance would ring true should you try.

“To avoid this…” there is only a single set of eyes staring at you, but you feel as if there are thousands, “What must I do?”

Alucard’s subsequent face-splitting grin is every bit as grotesque as you feared it would be. His chest rumbles, laughter erupting from his form. There’s nothing that you can do but take it. This embarrassment is uniquely painful, since you brought it on yourself.

“I thought you’d never ask. Dear girl, remind me, what was the first thing your god said not to be good regarding his creation?”

The answer comes easy, even if you don’t fully understand where he’s going with this line of questioning.

“He said it was not good for man to be alone.”

He nods, content by your obedience. You try not to dwell on the fact.

“And how did he rectify that?”

“By giving him a wife—”

You cut yourself off, your eyes going wide enough to sting, harrowing realization settling in. “Surely… you couldn’t possibly mean to…!”

This is unheard of. A desecration so profound that history itself had never encountered anything like it.

“Take you as my bride? Yes, that has been my intention from the beginning, I plucked you from the sky for that very reason. Cruelty may be all you’ve ever known from me, but I am perfectly capable of benevolence. Bind yourself to me for eternity. Worship me and I will worship you in return. Is this not a more pleasing arrangement than your previous affiliation? You worked so hard for a master who has forsaken you.”

“He hasn’t… no, he wouldn’t…”

Physical ailment and internal malaise plagues you. There is no cure, no antidote to soothe the insults you’ve suffered by his unrelenting verbal assault.

“What makes you so convinced? Did he not grant Mephistopheles permission to torment Faust in the same way I’m tormenting you?”

“It was a trial — yes, a trial — to prove man can overcome evil. You are twisting things! Forcing them to align to further your goals! Do not turn your back on me, you fiend, I will interpret it as you admitting defeat.”

Alucard takes his time getting comfortable in his throne, which is now a few measly feet away. He reclines while you continue verbally admonishing him. It’s not until you’re huffing for breath that he sees fit to dignify you with a response.

“Man might be able to overcome evil, on rare occasions,” he acknowledges. You think you may be gaining ground in this everlasting battle between wits. This has to be your reward for staying strong for so long, refusing to bend your ideals no matter how much easier it’d be to give in. A mustard seed that might yet flourish should you continue nourishing it.

He leans forward, that deplorable grin from earlier making its unwelcome return.

“But can you?”

#vampire x reader #yandere vampire x reader #alucard x reader #yandere alucard x reader #hellsing x reader #hellsing ultimate x reader #yandere hellsing ultimate x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #not sfw #my stuff

[peachesofteal]

Witchling / Chapter 2 

Morpheus/reader AO3 2k words - Chapter 1 is here. Warnings: Minors DNI. mentions of blood, skeletal limbs. Notes: 1. This fic has an outline now and will most likely be multiple chapters. 2. In this fic, I'm going with 'Hob believes Dream granted him immortality because Dream was the one who approached him in 1389, and he never corrected Hob's assumption.'

“But why?” 

“If, Hecate forbid, the book of shadows was ever to fall into the wrong hands, it would be catastrophic.” Your grandmother explains patiently. 

“As you will eventually be the grimoire’s next keeper, it’s protection will fall to you, just as it has to those that have come before you.” Your mother sits in the chair across from you, rubbing her thumb along the tops of your knuckles as she explains. 

“Will it hurt?” 

“Casting the blood bond will not.” Her assurances sit like lead in your stomach. You’ve heard the stories about the witches that have failed in their task. What became of them, how they suffered. The glint of a knife in your mother’s hand distracts you. You whimper. “Hush now.” She urges you to stand, holding your palm over the bowl that has been prepared. She draws the knife across your flesh, and you both watch as the droplets of blood sizzle and smoke in the bottom. Your heart starts to race, and your grandmother starts to murmur into the air. 

The last thing you see is the sympathy in your mother’s eyes before the world goes black. 

Someone is banging on your front door. You burrow yourself under the covers in hopes they will go away, but when you hear the professor’s voice, you know it’s not likely. 

“I know you’re in there, poppet.” A pause, more banging. “You’ve missed your last four shifts and have not answered a single call or text message.” More banging. You cringe. Your phone is on do not disturb, silenced after the last three texts from him, all beginning with “Hello, this is Hob Gadling. I am writing this to reach…” You know it’s not right that you’ve disappeared on him, but what are you supposed to do? Hey, sorry professor. Your weird friend tricked me, stole my family’s book of shadows, and then disappeared without a trace. Oh, why do I look like skeletor? Funny you should ask. You see, the book is bound to me through a spell, and it’s never supposed to leave my possession, or I am doomed to suffer the actual flames of hell on my skin until it’s found. Or I die. Yeah, that will go over really well. 

More banging. “I am going to call the police if you don’t answer the door.” Shit. You root around in your laundry for the largest hoodie you can find, gingerly pulling the sleeves over your hands so only the tips of your fingers are showing. Maybe he won’t notice. 

You fling open the door and he gapes at you, as if he wasn’t expecting you to actually answer. 

“About time! What’s happened to you? Where have you been?” you sigh, pushing the door open fully and stepping to the side. 

“You better come in.” 

 

 

Hob looks utterly shocked. He sits half perched on your couch, his large hand holding a lukewarm cup of tea, the other resting on his knee. 

“I don’t know what to say.” He finally speaks, and the sorrow in his voice pulls at your heart. “I am, so sorry. I didn’t think him capable of such… cruelty.” You shake your head. 

“It’s not your fault, professor.” 

“Can I see?” your eyebrows raise. “Please.” You remove your sweatshirt slowly, shifting in your t shirt once you’re free of the long sleeves. You hold your arms out to him and look away. You can’t look at them. The flesh on most of your fingers has gone, the bone of your left wrist is exposed entirely. Your skin is intact in patches up to your elbows, and the spell keeps it all in stasis. No blood, no pus, no rotting flesh. Just your body ever so slowly magically burning away. It’s the evidence of your failure, your inability to do your one job, and you can practically hear your mother and grandmother cursing you from beyond the grave. You sigh, and glance back at him. You weren’t sure if it was possible for Hob to look pale, but he did, he looked terrible. And you felt even worse. 

“He did this to you?” you shake your head. 

“Not directly. The bond that connects the book to me did. When he stole it, he enacted the spell.”

“And this spell… it does this to you?” 

“It’s supposed to serve as a punishment, and a motivator, to always keep the grimoire in my possession. The longer I’m separated from it, the more this will spread. And considering the initial severity of the spell, I am guessing the book is no longer… here.” You had no idea where the book of shadows was. You had already tried to scry for it and came up empty. Wherever it was, it wasn’t in this realm. You shuddered as you considered the possibilities. It could be in Hell, it could be in Faerie, it could anywhere. You are so fucked. “Hob, Morpheus said he was just like you. Except he disappeared into thin air, which isn’t something I thought you could do?” Hob grimaces. 

“He’s not like me. He’s something else. I’m not entirely sure, but I believe he’s a god of some kind.” You choke on your tea. 

“A what?” 

“I don’t know. He shares very limited details about himself with me. It’s only been recently that he’s been more… engaged in our friendship.” A god. The professor thinks he’s a whole ass god. “He’s the one who made me like this.” Hob finishes and the color drains from your face. Who had the power to grant immortality? Suddenly, there’s a bead of stress sweat collecting on the small of your back. 

“Do you know how to contact him?” 

“I don’t. We used to only meet every hundred years. He’s been coming around more often recently though.” Hob looks pensive and fight the urge to burst out into laughter at your predicament. So, you’re looking for a god, who can grant immortality, who apparently can teleport in and out of realms, and can’t be contacted. Yeah, you’re fucked.  “I’m sorry poppet. I can’t believe this has happened. That he would do this, it’s… very upsetting.” You see the deep lines of disappointment in the professor’s expression. He’s truly upset, and your heart cries for him. 

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” You rush to tell him. You feel the urge to reach out and squeeze his hand for comfort before you’re sharply reminded that comfort is something your hands can no longer give. You pull your sweatshirt back on as he stands, and he gives you a hug goodbye. 

“If I can help you anyway, tell me, and I will do so.” His voice is so serious, so steadfast, and you cling to his support. Hob is pretty much your only friend in this world, and it’s nice to know that he’s not completely horrified by the current state of your being. You sniffle, and nod. 

“Of course, I will.” 

 

You spend the rest of the day alternating between scrying and scrambling to come up with a plan. You tear through everything in the study, looking for summoning spells, tracing spells, anything you can get your hands on that could show you where the grimoire is. You work until the late hours of the night, until you finally fall asleep in the chair at the desk. 

 

You’ve never dreamed of a library before. It’s beautiful, with massive ornately carved shelves that tower over you. 

You round a corner to find a woman sitting at a table. She’s leaning over a large book, her finger following a line of text along the pages. 

It’s not just a book. It’s your grimoire. 

You gasp, and she looks around, startled until her eyes find you. Her smile is soft, even friendly as she stands. 

“Hello, dreamer.” Your mouth goes dry. Dreamer? She looks down at your hands, the mess of your scarred, skeletal limbs, and her smile falters, just slightly. Shame, and disgust, curdles in your stomach. 

“That’s… that’s mine. That’s- how did you get that?” Her smile fades, confusion and apprehension pinching her eyebrows into the middle of her forehead. She opens her mouth to say something, but stops, her gaze flicking towards the end of the shelves. Your nose tingles and you turn to look at whatever it is that stole her attention. 

It’s him. He’s standing at the end of row. And he looks, different somehow. Lethal, and yet still beautiful. Your breath starts coming in sharp pants, fear slithering across your skin. It’s just a dream. The power in the room pulses, and as blink, he’s standing right in front of you. You shrink backwards instinctively, stunned for a moment, and you reach inside yourself to push your own magic out towards him. Before you can even cast it, a vice clamps down on you, strangling your power, restraining it. You look up at him in a daze, expecting to find his callous gaze on yours. 

He’s not looking at your face, or your eyes. He’s staring at your forearms, your hands. Your mottled, melted flesh that is missing in chunks, exposing the gleam of bone underneath. It’s gruesome, the aftermath of the spell. His lips are pressed into a firm line, and you can just barely see a muscle in his jaw ticking. His eyes flick up towards yours, and you’re shocked to see an array of emotions behind them. Confusion. Surprise. Rage. 

“Who did this to you?” 

“You did.” He jerks his head backwards as if you’ve struck him. The urge to scream at him pulls at you, and you desperately want to unleash it, but the words die on your tongue as a strange sensation snaps across your body. 

 

You wake in your bed. The sun peeks through your curtains at you, and your mind reels. It was a dream; it was just a dream. 

 

 

The Goblin grins at you and clucks their tongue in pseudo affection. 

“Poor dove. Have you lost something?” They’re looking at your hands. “What a nasty spell. I never understood why you silly witches inflict something so torturous upon yourselves.” You stifle a sarcastic remark. 

“I have a question that needs an answer, and I have means to pay.” You say plainly and they laugh in response. 

“State you query then.” 

“I am looking for a god.” 

“That is not a query.” The Goblin reminds you. You roll your eyes. 

“A god has stolen something from me. I need it returned. Can you tell me who he is?” They lick their lips. 

“The blood in your hands is no good now, it will need to come from your neck.” You feel the press of their pointed fingernail against your skin, and then a pop. They lift their finger to their mouth, savoring the taste of your memory, of your burning question. Gross. 

The Goblin’s face lights with glee. 

“Oh, little lamb, it is not a god you seek. It is Dream of the Endless.” Dream. Your heart sinks as you remember your dream from last night. Guess it wasn’t just a dream, after all. 

It takes some coaxing, but you finally get the Goblin to tell you who the Endless are. They tell you of the siblings, their purposes, and their realms, which apparently are incredibly difficult to travel to as an unwanted guest. They also tell you more about Morpheus, or Dream, the actual Nightmare King himself. The more the Goblin prattles on, the more you realize how daunting of a task this will be. You try not to let the feelings of dread overwhelm you. 

“My payment.” The Goblin rasps, and you retrieve the scissors from your bag. You snip off a long lock of hair, wrapping it around your fingers before depositing it into their waiting palm. Their eyes fill with delight, and they make a pleased rumbling sound in their chest. 

“I knew your mother’s name, you know.” Your blood turns to ice. “Might I know yours as well, little spellcaster?” 

“Fuck off.” You pull your hands into your sleeves and make your way out of the alley at a run. 

 

 

You throw your bag on your couch, kicking your shoes off. Something below your elbow burns, and you grimace. You’re about to start perusing your selection of frozen dinner meals when a voice, that voice, echoes through your house. 

“Witchling.”  

You scream. 

#dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless #the sandman fanfic #peaches writes

[stargazer-dreamer]

Frivolities

character: hawks

reader: gender neutral

content warnings: intrusive/suicidal thoughts

notes: also on ao3. 2k word count. pre-series. "hawks-centric" in a way that's more about hawks and less about the reader.

Soul sold, the boy known as Takami Keigo was no more. A pretty bird, Hawks preformed tricks for pellets, beaten and battered, and at age eighteen he was ranked tenth in the Pro Hero Charts. An impressive feat, for one so young.

Working hard and wishing he wasn’t working at all, he woke up again and again. And again and again. And again and again.

---

He remembers suffering, pain, and endurance. Most of it came from living within the organization. His handlers, while allowing him more of an insight to the world than ever before, were no less cruel than the ones who drove him there in the first place. As the years passed by, he grew far from that scrawny little boy he had once been—but he still felt no more of a man than before. And when he opened up his own hero agency, he constantly felt waterlogged and wrung out; schedule leaving little time for rest, always something to do, always on the move.

Despite his successes—going above and beyond, reaching higher and higher—he couldn’t seem to escape the cage he had been placed in, all those years ago. There were many rules he had to abide by and regulations to follow; driveling and snooze-inducing topics that didn’t really matter in the end and that he didn’t care much for. He couldn’t help but laugh about it—like a pet bird, he thought. Cooped up and clipped wings, meant only to flutter an inch off of the ground, stand there pretty, parrot phrases said a thousand times over.

He wasn’t allowed any friends. They were a distraction, they told him; he should work hard, keep busy. There was even the order that he was not allowed to date. Any type of relationship, whether it was romantic or sexual, would not only be quickly made public but labeled as a sign of rebellion and opposition to the organization that had treated him so well. Manipulative. Deliberately threatening what little privacy he had. Stripping him bare for all the world to see.

When he met you, he was twenty. He had recently ranked within the top five in the Pro Hero Charts. Despite trying to beat it out of him, Hawks had always had a bit of a rebellious streak—a life of strict handlers and rigorous outlines had shaped him quite a bit differently than they had expected—but after taking the fifth slot, he had decided to test exactly how secure the latch on the cage door really was. And while that might sound like something much more devious to an onlooker, for Hawks, it simply meant rattling the bars for a bit. For fun.

He phrased it much like he’d heard countless of times before, scrolling through social media: he needed some mental health days. He didn’t know this himself—didn’t allow himself the chance to know, really—but he really did need it. He went on vacation. It took a lot of convincing for it to get approved by his handlers, much less getting it past the higher ups—he just ranked fifth, it’d do wonders to ride that high, they insisted.

Regardless, his time off—his first ever official, willing, much awaited for and desired time off—went through. To celebrate, he slept for most of the first day, only leaving his bed to grab takeout at the front door and take the occasional trip to the restroom. He lavished in his slumber; since the transfer, he couldn’t find a single time in his life where he could sleep in late—much less was physically able to.

It was by the second day that the initial appeal wore off, and he found himself fidgeting about. Tossing, and turning, and very much incredibly bored; he missed his work, he found. As troublesome and uninspiring as the fact was—it was sadly true. Inevitable, even. At that point, he had spent the majority of his life working. It felt wrong to not be on his feet. He felt guilty channel-surfing.

The rest he had so constantly craved didn’t feel quite as rewarding as he thought it would be.

---

On the third day, he had decided a quick trip to the corner store couldn't hurt, as long as he was fast enough not to get noticed on the way there and back. He had to stretch his wings, surround himself with the sounds of everyday life. He was going stir-crazy cooped up in his nest—and that was a depressing thought. He put his shoes on and took a moment to ponder. Hawks was confident about his speed and agility—a nondescript trip to the convenience store should be easy. Within the organization, he was praised for his covertness, after all—was the fastest-rising hero, after all. It should have been easy.

It was not easy.

It was a saying that was ripped right off of a certain article headline—he was too fast for his own good. Despite his reflexes, despite all the training, the drills, the hardships he had to endure up until that point, he was just a bit too quick on the draw. When you are at your most cautious, that is when you are most likely to make a mistake—he had been told that many times. After ranking fifth, he had stopped listening.

It was on this third day that he met you. He didn’t run into you—couldn’t—but he very nearly did, bracing himself against the automatic doors, causing them to pop out of place by mistake. This is where he stumbled, weight suddenly shifting, but then he felt hands upon him—one on his shoulder, another at his chest, firm—and he regained his balance once more.

“Are you okay?”

He looked up. Your concern was plastered on your entire face—the angle of your brows, the seriousness of your eyes, so trained on him that he was struck, suddenly. Of all his years of being Pro, he has had a multitude of people worried for his well-being. At the top of the charts, it came with the job. Cheering, and screaming, and crying; many people cared about him.

When they needed him, that is.

You looked at him. You looked into his eyes, like you were peering into his soul, and asked him—“Are you hurt?”

He tried convincing himself that this was not a fight. Every bone in his body trembled with the force of it. It left him unable to breathe, the adrenaline coursing through him with an intensity he’s never felt before. He could be bleeding, he thought, idly. “No,” he said, eventually. He felt like he was losing. “No, I’m good. Dandy, even.” And it was habit more than anything, when he flashed you his most charming smile, “But thank you for worrying. I really appreciate it. Really.”

Sweat caught in his hairline, threatening, and he watched as you took in his features. The longer you stared, the more self-conscious he felt; how strained he must look, how tense his muscles must be beneath his shirt—you still held him, he realized, faintly. He felt like passing out.

And with that, he shot you finger-guns. He struck a little pose. He hated it. “I’m okay!” he backed away now, sidestepping around you and out the front door. Popping it back into place with more force than necessary, he laughed—a rough, loud thing—and with a wave of the hand, “Have a good day!” And he took off into the skies.

Rocketing above the clouds, he told himself—I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.

---

Two days later, he remembered that he had wanted the sort of fried food you can only get at a convenience store. The salty-cheap kind, the perfect kind, the quickie-chickie kind. The city was big, he thought, the world even bigger, so when he nearly ran into you again he felt as if someone must be pulling at some unseen strings somewhere, up in the heavens. Like he could look up to find the curtains rising. They never did, of course. They didn’t exist.

What he got instead was your voice again—exactly the same from within his dreams—asking, “Are you okay?” Hands at his shoulder and chest, you steadied him. The door clunked beside you.

Eyes skybound, he pursed his lips. Puckered them. Exhaled. Then he nodded, slipping out of reach, and jammed the door straight. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I’m good. Great, even.” And even though his wings fluttered and he felt his feathers start to rise, he asked with a quirked brow—“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

It took you a moment to answer, watching him toe further and further away. “Yeah, I…” And it was at this point where a familiar glint in your eyes appeared, and you did a double-take. “Hawks?”

Despite the immediate bile rising to the back of his throat, his smile came more naturally this time. Dancing backwards, he flapped his wings; once, twice, he was off his feet. Saluting, he spun, gave a flourish, and was off.

---

He was twenty, number five, and on vacation for the very first time. Fried chicken was good, he remembered, sitting in the shadow of a tree, down several back-roads, obscured from sight, and chowing down on some karaage next to you. It was the day after your second encounter; he had entered stage left to see you center stage once again.

His sixth day off in a row; summer, the sun setting down towards the horizon line, and the convenience store door had been knocked out of its slot once again. He had laughed, head thrown back at the obscurity of it all, and rammed it back into place. He offered to buy you a snack, an apology for bothering you so—he insisted—but once he had his receipt, he didn’t turn tail and run. Not this time.

No, he invited you to come sit with him, enjoy the sunset, talk for a bit. You were on his mind, constantly, and he almost told you as much. Almost. You, who looked at him, point-blank, and not wondered for your own safety. He learned your name and your occupation, what it was that you did throughout the day, and what brought you to the corner store. He stuffed his face; and it’s not like you didn’t know who he was—you recognized him, of course—but there was just something about you. He couldn’t quite place it. Your pretty eyes and the way they looked at him. His heart thumped in his chest.

What was it about you?

He pondered this as he spoke, vividly, about his favorite hero. He couldn’t quite remember how the two of you got on that topic in the first place but you were laughing at the unconventional taste of it—and everything else then ceased to matter.

His heart thumped in his chest. He couldn’t breathe. The hairline at the nape of his neck was damp with it—the sudden urge to fling himself across the country. To fly so far up, so fast, he’d completely lose air. You looked at him, so earnestly, and he thought: oh. Your face. Your smile. Your eyes on him and him alone. And he was used to the attention—number five and all wrung out—but there was something about your gaze that struck him to his core, made him feel frozen and burned from the inside-out all at once.

Oh no.

He was not allowed to date. He didn’t have that luxury, the private life. No, he could not be with you. Oh, how he wanted to. Wanted to flip out his phone—and show you the little Endeavor charms, just to see you point out all the artistic liberties—and ask for your number. To ask you out. Hope and pray a disposable face mask would help disguise him enough. He considered the possibility of renting out an entire restaurant, just to secure his own concealment. He hoped you liked umai.

But would the staff talk? Would you? Would there be lenses positioned at the entrance, already phoning the tabloids—already phoning his handlers? The Secret’s Out! Love Bird Hawks!

He wiped the grease away on the leg of his pants, hand lingering over his pocket. You were telling him about your favorite hero—their aesthetics and sense of justice—but you paused, suddenly. He looked up.

“Oh,” you seemed nervous. “N-not that you aren’t amazing as well, Hawks...! Didn’t you just rank number five? And it’s only been, what, two years since you debuted?” You tinkered with the keyring in your lap as you spoke, fiddling with the dangling chain, almost discreetly. He couldn’t help it. He looked down. There, between your clamped fingers, sat an acrylic charm. The light hit it, just so, revealing a brilliant scarlet. You fidgeted. A feather.

His smile felt strained, threatening to disappear off of his face as the bile rose once more. “Time moves so fast,” it felt like a slog. Each day crawling along with an itinerary several miles long. He wanted to tear it up, desperately, into tiny little shreds, burn it to ash, and throw himself into the pyre as well. “Tenth feels like it was just yesterday.”

He didn’t ask for your number. He resolved to never go to that corner store ever again.

On that sixth night, he laid in bed, alone, thinking about his favorite hero. Number two. He wondered what that was like, as he watched the moon up in the sky, higher than he could ever dream of flying; his body the cage that tethered him. He wondered what that was like. Number two. Endeavor, his brilliant, blazing inferno in the sky, embers in his wake, impeccable track record, eyes on the prize—but never enough. Hawks watched the moon up in the sky between the gaps in the window blinds, strained and worn out, chasing, and wondered—will it ever be enough?

---

The next morning, he went back to work.

#hawks #wing hero hawks #takami keigo #my hero academia #hawks x reader #hawks x you #hawks x y/n #hawks imagine #hawks imagines #my hero academia imagine #my hero academia imagines #my hero academia headcanons #boku no hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia imagine #boku no hero academia imagines #boku no hero academia headcanons #my hero academia fanfiction #my hero academia fanfic #my hero academia fic #bnha fanfiction #bnha fanfic #bnha fic #if you decided to read all these tags: hello hello! #i originally started writing this one alongside ''erratum discussions'' back in september (nearly a whole year ago!) #but ofc i like spike a lot more than hawks so i finished his version first and just kinda. put hawks' on the wayside #ive been picking at it little by little this entire time!! i didnt want them to be the same but like very slightly similar. where it counts #anyways i dont want to get anyones hopes up but hopefully someday i'll write a sequel for this. no promises tho <3 #personal favorites

[radiowallet]

how could you?

Kinktober Day 11 - Rimming

Main Masterlist II Kinktober Masterlist

Summary: You spend the night worshipping Marcus in all the ways he deserves. Pairing: Marcus Moreno x gn!reader WC: 2K Warnings: Mature 18+ MDNI This is an over 18 blog and all content is considered mature. Established relationship, body worship, hand job, oral sex (male receiving), rimming (male receiving), slight praise kink.

Marcus is stunning.

You sit back on your heels and admire him, fingers digging into the meat of his thighs, watching in delight as he trembles beneath your gaze. He’s stretched out on the bed, naked as sin, his tan skin glowing from the help of one lone lamp, the room blanketed in a mix of golden shadows. His cock rests heavy on his soft belly, thick and flushed, the veins pronounced and the tip glistening. His hands are flexing, fingers spread out wide before pulling into his fist, all of his tension held in those two hands. 

You’re tucked between his legs where they dangle off the edge of the bed, bent at the knee, feet planted on the carpet, and caging you in.

You don’t mind. You would gladly spend the rest of your days trapped here below this man. 

It had taken some coaxing to ease him into this position, Marcus always aching to be the one to worship on his knees. But after a night out, just the two of you, coupled with the slip of your tongue around the shell of his ear, your fingers ghosting the outline of his cock, and your whispered pleas echoed to him faithfully, he had been convinced. 

You took your time, stripping away each piece of clothing with a steady hand and a kiss to each piece of skin you exposed. Marcus watched you from beneath hooded eyes, lips parted and fingers trembling as you rained praise on each freckle, every scar, the history of his life etched so elegantly into his skin. He sank down to the bed with a gentle push, legs spreading eagerly, his cock already hard and resting on his thigh. You licked your lips in anticipation, mouth watering and tongue desperate for a taste, your legs clenched together.

Your own legs were just about to bend when he stopped you with a call of your name and a hand to your hip.

“Naked… please.”

How could you ever deny him?

There was little flourish as you slipped your clothes off your shoulders, giving Marcus ample time to take you in. He leaned back on his forearms, brown eyes bleeding black as he traced your curves from head to toe, licking his lips as watched your nipples harden beneath his gaze. You felt warmth pool between your legs but you refused to give in to your arousal, anxious only to touch the man settled before you.  

“Let me take care of you, Marcus.”

The carpet is rough beneath you, your body curled down on bend and knee between his legs. You’ve already driven him to the edge twice, hand wrapped around his cock, stroking his shaft until his head was swollen and weeping, precum pearly white and dripping slowly down to sink between your grip. It feels luxurious, tacky salt sticking to your fingers, easing the glide of your hand along his swollen length. All the while you rain praise down upon Marcus, watching in delight as he reacts to your words.

“So beautiful for me. So pretty like this. Gonna look so good when you come, aren’t you baby?” 

He has yet to beg, still watching you with unblinking eyes, his mouth formed around mewls of pleasure, head nodding frantically in response to your question. His knuckles are bright white where they cling to the bedspread, his cheeks flushed, eyes glassy. Your mouth is watering, the site of Marcus’s cock, flushed and swollen, your fingers barely able to wrap around the thickest part of him. It has you ravenous. You lean in, but refuse to indulge either of you yet, instead burying your nose into the crease of his groin. 

The smell of him is concentrated, musk and sex and sweat clinging to his skin. You groan into him, licking and sucking, drool dripping down your chin. Marcus moans above you, his hips bucking into your face. You tighten your grip around his cock, stilling his movements, and sliding your nose through the patch of hair around the base of him. 

“Ba-by,” he whispers, voice breaking around the word.

When you peek up from beneath your lashes, you see his lips caught between a smile and a grimace. You wink, can’t help but, before finally letting your lips trail up the underside of his cock. A dainty kiss is pressed to the tip and you let yourself lick away the taste of him, precum stinging like salt on your tongue. 

“Mmm, you taste so good, sweet boy.”

 

“Shit,” Marcus chokes out, and out of the corner of your eye you see his hand twitch, the metal bed frame groaning in protest as he resists the urge to grab the back of your head. 

You kiss the tip of him again before finally sliding your lips around his girth. The weight of him is heavy on your tongue and you savor the feel, the taste, the essence of him as he fills your mouth. You don’t move at first, enjoying the sound of his pitiful cries as he fights the urge to fuck your throat. 

You aren’t sure how long you stay there, itchy carpet beneath your sore knees, sweat forming at the back of your neck, jaw aching and eyes stinging. It is bliss. Your head is empty save for the pleasure of this man. This man who always makes the time to care for everyone but himself, and that thought only encourages you to swallow him deeper. 

You hollow your cheeks and suck, letting the head of his cock hit the back of your throat once before you pull away around a gag. You dive back in quickly, kissing and licking at his length before swallowing up and down smoothly. Spit and precum fill your mouth and you aren’t shy about letting it leak out, watching as the heady mixture drips down his shaft to his balls. 

Marcus is a trembling mess through it all, garbled pleas of more and don’t stop mixing together with the syllables of your name. His thighs shake beneath your palm, the muscles vibrating despite the soothing nature of your touch. You rub his legs deep and slow, pushing in towards his balls, letting your thumb catch along the thin skin. The sound he lets out that one touch is guttural; a feral cry that has you pulling off of his cock with slick pop. 

His hips chase after you, but you’re quick to comfort him, petting softly at his thigh as you lean in and press a tentative kiss to his balls, murmuring more words of praise between each press of your lips. 

“I’ve got you, baby. You’re doing so good for me.” 

His reaction is instantaneous. 

He keens, loud and high, your actions leaving him shuddering and it spurs you on. Your kisses grow deeper, wetter, sucking the thin skin with obscene enthusiasm. You push his legs wider, addicted to the feeling, burying your face deeper and deeper, fingers slipping in the mix of sweat and spit, one of them catching along the cleft of his ass. 

“Fuck— right there… oh god, baby please…right there. More. I need more… p-please…”

Marcus is practically falling off the bed, his feet planted firmly on the ground, his hips twisting left and right, desperate and wanton in his needs. Part of you wants to refuse; already anxious to have his cock back between your lips, the desire to have him come down your throat overwhelming. But—

He’s looking at you through a cloud of lust and love, and there, at the center of it all, you see it. 

His trust. 

It’s rare, almost an impossibility, but this man — hero— is exposing all the bits and pieces of himself, giving you the immense honor of taking care of him. Allowing you the chance to be his safety net as he lays all his vulnerabilities on the table for you to treasure. 

You’re not sure how you’ve found yourself to be so lucky. 

With a careful touch and hushed whisper, you coax Marcus onto his stomach, his cock trapped between the bed and his body, the small swell of his ass sticking out for you to admire. Again, you give yourself just a moment to look, skating the tips of your fingers up one cheek and down the other, before slowly sliding them between, your nail barely catching on his puckered entrance. 

“More,” he sobs, voice muffled in the curve of his arm.  “Your…shit, your tongue baby…please. Please.”

Your face heats up and your legs clench together, slick arousal practically pouring out of you at his request. You’re almost dizzy from it but you refuse to overthink this moment, anxious only to give Marcus everything he needs to feel good. You breathe in slowly and press a gentle kiss to his left cheek, and then his right, before burying your face between his ass cheeks, licking diligently at his puckered entrance. 

It is filthy, feral, and you can’t stop yourself as you push your tongue deeper and deeper inside him, spurred on by Marcus’s cries of ecstasy. He is a mess, writhing beneath you, hips caught in a broken staccato; arching back into your mouth and rutting his cock down into the mattress. His body is pulled taut, grip like iron where he clings to the bedspread, and without asking you know he’s close.  

You double your efforts, sucking and kissing and licking at his entrance, burying your tongue as deep as you can. Spit drips down your chin, hot and wet and only making you feel more desperate. You dig your fingernails hard into the back of his thighs, hard enough that you hope they bruise. Bruises you can admire with the press of your lips for days after. You force his legs wider, and lick as deep as you can, your own moan escaping you at the musky taste on your tongue.

You feel Marcus clench tight around your tongue, the creaking sound of the metal bed frame mixing with his screams, his orgasm slamming into him like fire raging through a forest. You cheat your glance up, anxious to watch him fall apart, but determined to help him through the throes of it. He comes harder than you’ve ever seen him, hips thrusting into the bed with zero grace, his cum soaking into the bedspread, the spot beneath darkening with his cum.  

When you pull away, he whimpers but you’re quick to soothe, helping him flip over and shift to the head of the bed with a gentle touch. He looks beautiful; blissed out and drunk from your touch, his hair twisted and teases in every direction, a rosy flush clinging to his cheeks, his lips parted and eyes glazed as he fights to keep them open and on you. You smooth back an errant curl, his forehead slicked in sweat, watching as his throat bobs with each breath, his broad chest rising and falling, slowly matching the steady pace of your touch.

“Your turn,” he murmurs, the words slurring together as they tumble from his mouth, one of his hands clumsy as it reaches towards the curve of your knee.

“Later,” you offer, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose and then to his lips. The fact that he doesn’t fight you on the delay of your own pleasure proves just exactly how good a job you did. 

You take care to pull a loose sheet up around his waist, and as you do you have to bite at your lip to stifle a laugh when you see the headboard. It’s twisted in on itself, his powers having run wild alongside his pleasure. You don’t bother drawing attention to the damage, a problem best left for tomorrow. Instead you slide off the bed and step towards the bathroom, intent on cleaning him up before sleep inevitably finds you both, but his hand on your hips stops you one more time. 

“Let me hold you? Just for a minute?”

And how could you ever deny him?

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

#Marcus Moreno #Marcus Moreno fic #radiowallet writes #pedro pascal characters #marcus moreno x reader

[themorningsunshine]

Light in the midst of darkness (4)

Series Masterlist

Previous

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Summary -  Sometimes he thought she was a segment of his imagination, a figure conjured up by his mind for a sense of peace among his tormentors. Why else would somebody as pure as her will be at Hydra? But then he realised the imagination of his broken mind could never be so beautiful.

Word count - 2k

Warnings - Brief mention of chemicals and brainwashing

a/n - Here it is!!! I know this chapter took me ages and I am really really sorry. But silver lining, I have created an outline for the whole story so updates can hopefully be quicker. Thank you so much for sticking along.

The path to the medical rooms isn't how it used to be and the soldier wonders if they were always this brightened by light.

He had walked on these paths a lot of times before. Now that he knew for how long he had been here, he could only imagine how many times they had brought him here and erased his memory of the crime they had just made him commit. They never liked to leave evidence. What better way than erasing every trace from the committer's mind?

But he hasn't been strapped to that chair in 3 months. He has started to find tidbits of his memories, which changes much more than he ever thought. He still doesn't look into the mirror, but this time, not because he can't recognize the person staring back at him but because he despises the person who stares back at him through the mirror.

Every time he is sent on a mission, he loses a part of himself. He realizes he doesn't want to kill those people. He never did. The little voices that he used to hear from inside him during missions, begging and pleading with him to let those people go, make more sense now. The voice is much stronger now. It's like his own.

As the room with the chair approaches, he holds his breath. He never liked the chair before but he couldn't afford to be strapped now. It was nice knowing about himself. It was nice knowing that he wasn't bad. That he wasn't one of them. He also had someone other than himself he didn't want to forget.

As the two guards take him to the dreaded room, they can hear tidbits of conservation from inside. It was clearer to the soldier, owing to his super hearing.

"No, sir. We can't do that." There was that voice. The one who somehow could always calm him down. The voice that he had started to crave.

"What do you mean? We can't let him be without the wiping. It's too risky. We can't afford to do that." It was the voice of the general. The guards knew better than to interrupt now.

"Sir, but..."

"No, buts!! You are here to do as we say. Last I checked, we keep you alive to follow our orders and not give suggestions." The general's voice bellowed through the halls and it took everything in the soldier to not burst in, pick him up by the throat and throw him on the wall.

The general was about to walk towards the door, head tilted upwards with arrogance, when you spoke up again, "He will not be able to survive it, sir."

The general turned back and the soldier could almost sense how his brows would have furrowed.

"What do you mean? The soldier isn't an average human. He is a weapon. His endurance knows no bounds." The general lets out a dark chuckle at that as if he had tested it himself.

You need to physically hold yourself back from taking a step forward and punching the general. "That is how he has survived this long, sir. But you need to understand. Brainwashing releases Lysergic acid diethylamide into the brains of the subject. This blocks the memories of associates and almost any sense of environment. That is what makes them extremely obedient in the first place. But extreme use of this acid can lead to blockage of the nerves and then damage to the nervous system. Nobody can survive at that."

"What are you trying to say here?" The general asked with irritation in his voice, too arrogant to accept that he hadn't understood what had just come out of your mouth.

"Sir, in simple words, the soldier has been strapped to this chair for decades, it has damaged his mind. He has no memories or recollections of who he was. If any more of this is thrashed upon him, his mind will finally give up and all of Hydra's attempts at creating more supersoldiers will prove futile."

The soldier narrows his eyes. He feels a sudden rush of anger inside him. Why did you have to say that? If another one of those 'sessions' would kill him, he would willingly walk towards it. He wasn't allowed to choose for decades but he knew that if he got the opportunity now, he would rather die. The prospect of eternal peace is promising to him. No more missions, no murders, no more blood on his hands, none of those training sessions. He would much rather die, he thinks.

He knows his anger is unjustified. If anything, you were trying to save his life.

But another thought confuses him. You had said he had no recollections of his past, but if there was one person who knew that wasn't the truth except for him, it was you. Whenever he met you after missions or sessions or even during medical reports, he would talk to you about what he had started to remember and in turn, you told him about your family. So, what you said about his memories wasn't true.

The voice of the general brings him out of his thoughts. "Fine, do whatever. Just sew him up. A critical mission is coming up. We cannot take any risks." You just nodded your head trying your best to not smile.

After giving the soldier a disgusted look, the general steps out and walks away. The guards pushed the soldier inside and walked away.

When your eyes met him, you let out a sigh of relief. Most of the time when he came to you, he was in a terrible state. Even though you knew it was a regular medical report today, you couldn't help the relief that ran through you every time you saw him, well and alive.

You smiled at him and whispered a small, "hey"

The soldier didn't give you a response and just walked towards the devices which he knew would take recordings for the report. You didn't mind. Even though he had now started to talk to you, there were times when he preferred to be quiet and you understood.

As you walked towards him, your smile didn't flatten. "I am now going to take recordings of your heartbeat." This was a new habit you had developed. Even if you were about to do something as painless as listening to his heartbeats, you would always tell him about what was to come. Considering how everything was just thrashed upon him and how he had been treated by doctors all these years, you knew he hated all the medical procedures and you sincerely hoped this would slightly ease his worries.

But he didn't look up or meet your eye. He just sat there, muscles tensed and jaw so tightly closed, you were worried it would break. "Bucky, are you okay?"

He had thought he wouldn't reply to anything you said today or even look your way, but your voice dripping in concern and your eyes desperate for anything to calm down your worries made it impossible.

"Why?" He just whispers the first word that comes to his mind.

"I - I don't understand, Bucky. Is everything okay?"

"Why didn't you just let me die?" This time, he looks directly into your eyes, and all air is sucked out of your lungs at the intensity of his orbs.

"Bucky, I -. It's not what you think."

"Then, explain it to me. Tell me what that was about." It is the first time he has raised his voice in a commanding way and for a second, he is scared you would flinch away from him. That you would hate him, or worse, be scared of him. He didn't want to scare you. He was not as angry with you as he was with himself.

But you don't flinch. You understand his frustration and you know he deserves a chance to know the truth. He has had things hidden from him for years, you couldn't do the same to him.

"The chemical. The one I told the general about. That's not a real thing. I mean, it used to be. Like, 50 years ago but not anymore."

Bucky narrowed his eyes at you. He was relieved that you weren't scared of him but your statement confused him even further.

"Bucky, they don't use chemicals for brainwashing anymore. Maybe they figured out long ago how harmful that chemical could be and changed to electrocuting. And as dangerous and painful as that is, it is not life-threatening the way the chemical would have been."

"So, another one or two brainwashing sessions on the chair won't kill me."

You shook your head. "Nope. They have done that to you so often now that more sessions would hardly make a difference to your health."

"And the general doesn't know about this?"

"Nope. He has no idea about what happens outside the missions or the training grounds."

The soldier pauses for a second. Why did you do that? Lies or deceit were taken very seriously here. The consequences were worse than death. Why would you put yourself at risk?

"You can't keep lying to them. One day, they would find out." He says and internally prays to whatever god is up there that day never comes.

"Worth it." You reply without any ounce of hesitation in your voice. And you were being honest. You wouldn't let them hurt him, no matter what.

He shakes his head. "You don't have to do this for me. I am not worth it." And he believes this with every fiber of his being. Why would anyone risk anything to save him from pain?

"First of all, you are. You are worth much more than this, Bucky. And Second, I am not doing this for you. I am doing this for myself."

He narrowed his eyes at her in confusion before she continued.

"What will I do if you forgot about me, soldier?"

Bucky looks up and when his blue eyes meet yours, for a second, the whole world stops, there's no Hydra or the constant fear of something happening, the guilt or the memories, it's just two people who had found each other at the worst possible time and were now praying to whatever god was up there, to let them have this. Each other.

Things were calm and peaceful.

And it would stay like that. For some more time at least.

Taglist - @vicmc624 @buckybringsviolets @caritobbg @soulofendlessbook @kamaria-sweet-writes @pixxerella94​ @shortnloud

#james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky angst #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barns imagine #bucky barns x you #bucky barns x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #buciy barnes x reader #winter soldier #winter soldier x y/n #winter soldier x you #winter soldier x reader #marvel #oneshot #mcu

[fleet-off]

*chinhands* talk to me about the WIPs you want to share with the world and how they came to be.

Lilyyyyy. Baiting me with this question when you know I have too many WIPs (16! 16 with 2k+ words apiece! it's a compulsion!). Here are my three immediate priorities once Lapping at the Edges is complete:

Body Bag: The one where Pete finds playing dead relaxing and Vegas decidedly does not. It’s a nonsexual bondage body-disposal roleplay gone wrong, featuring failure to safeword on Vegas’s part and dom drop, followed by hurt/comfort aftercare sex next to the shallow grave Vegas dug for Pete on his request. Their sex life is so weird here. Vegas’s preoccupation with death symbolism is a delight to write from the outside, and the remnants of Pete’s fucked-up passive death wish equally so. And I get to write my favorite unhealthy kink headcanon for them, where they’re both terrible at safewording because one of them has been conditioned to accept punishment and the other believes he deserves it. I am incredibly excited for this fic.

And speaking of bad communication and a preoccupation with death!

Stable Delusion: the resurrection AU, beloved. My little novella about shadows and concealment, empty mirrors and guilt, still waters and autonomy, and Vegas achieving a horror so miraculous that Pete can never know. I woke up months ago with the prologue in my notes app and no memory of writing it, and I’ve been obsessing about it since. Here’s a fresh excerpt (warning for the physical results of S/M):

On the other side of the mirror, Vegas’s skin was a tapestry of damage. Rope burns crowded the insides of his wrists. Dull red lines scored his chest and what Pete could see of his throat. He wore a mass of bite marks on his stomach and bare legs, and a circle of them around his hip. The body was Vegas’s, but the marks belonged to Pete—each a match for one Vegas himself had laid into his flesh. Outside his own skin, he could better appreciate the skill in the patterns of welts peeking past the insides of Vegas’s thighs, the artistry in the pretty chaos of bruises blooming across his belly, the affection in the purples of Vegas’s thumbprints on either side of his throat. In the logic of Pete’s dream, all of this seemed just. If the marks were Pete’s, then they were Vegas’s too, surely. But if Vegas was to have marks, shouldn’t Pete be the one to bestow them?

and third,

Off the Handle: Vegas doesn’t know how to handle low-level family conflict. A tiff over the dishwasher leads him to start sabotaging the means for Pete or Macau to harm themselves. Here’s the bit of the outline that made me fall in love with this one:

And finally Pete approaches him like. “Hey, so Macau found all the kitchen knives stashed behind the DVD player. Is this why we’ve been ordering so much takeout lately?” And, “It’s not ideal as a weapons stash, is the thing. People reach back there without looking. It’s not accessible during an attack. We need those knives for cooking. Also, Macau’s not going to tell you, but it really freaked him out.” And at last, “Is this because I tried to put them in the dishwasher?” “You don’t put wooden handles in the dishwasher.” “…Right.” Pete steels his shoulders, curls his hands in Vegas’s. “Hey. Are you planning something?” Vegas blinks. “The fuck could I be planning? I have nothing to plan.” “You hid the kitchen knives. You said the old ropes were starting to fray, but it’s been two weeks and you keep putting off buying new ones. The lock on the bathroom door is still broken. Your pain meds are gone. Why are your pain meds gone?” “Why are you getting into my meds?” “You know we need you, right?” And Pete’s eyes are dark and earnest, and his fingertips flutter, broken wings against Vegas’s palms. “Vegas, you know I need you?”

Thank you for the opportunity to ramble, Lily! Of course, there’s also a wip that a certain someone has been encouraging me to write despite my own protestations (thank you), and perhaps a recently-learned definite date around which I’d love to offer the story to that particular someone…but I’ll leave those details up in the air (😋) for now.

#asks #kinnporsche #vegaspete #fanfiction #fleet post #fleet fic #fleet answers

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Lifesaver

June Drabbles 2022 Day 10 - Skating 

A/N:  I have been wanting to challenge myself to write a drabble a day for a whole month for quite some time now, and I finally decided to just go for it. The goal is to fill every prompt on this list by @creativepromptsforwriting with a short one shot (500 - 2k words) by the end of June. Can I do it? I do not know. But let’s find out! - Um... no one even look at me, okay? I have no idea where this came from and I am straight up terrified to release it into the wild so... lemme just rip off the band-aid. 

Word Count: 2,240

Warnings: none. just soft curls and warm eyes. 

Summary: Your well of inspiration has been running a little low, and when that happens you head to the beach to people watch, hoping that will spark some creativity. But this time as you stroll through the sand, you get more than you bargained for. 

Looking forward to seeing the new chapters. Hopefully soon. 

The last two lines of your agent’s email echoed through your head with all the subtlety of a gong. Are you, Laurie? Frowning, you kicked at the sand you were walking on, watching as the grains sprayed out ahead of you. They landed back on the beach, disappearing again into the sea of specks as though you’d never displaced them. You took a deep breath, filling your lungs with clear, salty air before you released it in a frustrated sigh. Well that makes two of us. 

The truth was that you hadn’t turned your new chapters in yet because they had yet to be written. Though you had the entire novel planned and outlined before you had even begun to write it - including the twist, the big reveal and what you considered your best ending to date - you’d been unable to make a dent in chapters nine through twelve. Up to that point you had been on a real tear, sometimes writing more than five thousand words in a day and staying up well into the night, fighting the weight of your eyelids as you willed your fingers to move more quickly over the keyboard. But just as things had really gotten cooking plot-wise, and just as you felt that your characters were beginning to develop and strengthen, you were hit by it -  A dry spell. Writer’s block. Creative clog. 

The complete desolation of my once luscious imagination. You rolled your eyes at yourself as your thoughts began to spiral. Okay that last one was dramatic.

It wasn’t like it had never happened to you before. Throughout your career as a published author - and for many years before anything you had written had ever seen the inside of a publishing house - you’d dealt with periods of unintentional, intermittent fasting when it came to producing anything that you were proud enough of to put your name on. You knew that it was all part of the territory, that no artist on Earth was making masterpieces on a daily basis. You knew that your writing needed to breathe sometimes, and that you couldn’t just cram words into a document and call it a day. They needed to be the right ones in the right order. They needed to accurately convey the images and the emotions that you saw and felt when you conceptualized your stories. They needed to flow and blend and bleed into the hearts of your readers. But knowing all of this in no way made it easier to handle the days, weeks, and occasionally months that would sometimes go by without the inspiration and motivation that were required to spin your word webs. 

Though it had only been a few days since you last added to your novel’s word count, you were starting to admit that you were in danger of slipping into one of those ruts. And I need to climb out of it because if I don’t I’ll fall behind on the whole project and then the book will be delayed and I ‘ll lose the momentum I had from the last one and readers will start to - “Stop.” You muttered the word under your breath, verbally scolding yourself for again nearly giving in to the downward spiral. That’s not helpful. That’s not why I’m here. 

The beach was where you went to try to clear your mind of the fog surrounding your projects. It wasn’t just the sunshine on your skin or the sound of the waves crashing along the shore that you found beneficial when you were stuck in a creative slump, though. The weather and the scenery didn’t hurt, but the real reason that you headed to Huntington Beach every time you needed to jumpstart your writing was that it was the perfect place to people-watch. One of the things that you strove for in your work was creating characters that looked and sounded and felt real, like people you knew and loved - or like people you knew and wished you didn’t know, depending on what the story called for- and over the years you found that the best way to ensure that your characters came to life was to collect little mental snapshots of strangers out in the world. And there was no place better than the beach or the boardwalk for finding a wide range of real life characters to choose from. 

Between the sunbathers and shell combers, spring breakers and family vacationers, locals, drifters, volleyball players, dancers and everyone else, you always seemed to see something that sparked a flame to get the pilot light in your brain lit again. Hoping that today would not be the exception to that rule, you chose to walk on the sand parallel to the paved pathway that was populated mainly by skaters. It was a good route because you knew that the things you’d experience along the path were unique ones, ones that would hopefully inspire new descriptions and character quirks that you could incorporate - the graceful movements of roller dancers, the swelling rumble of plastic wheels rolling over the asphalt, the aerodynamic form of bladers zipping along for speed, the at times riotous laughter of people who were new to the activity and having a hard time staying upright, the flail of arms, the- 

But just as you started to immerse yourself in the sights and sounds of the skate path, you were pulled right back out of it. You were watching a young woman in colorful spandex and tall polka dotted socks as she did a lazy figure eight when out of the corner of your eye you noticed a man who appeared not to be paying attention to his surroundings, and who was about to step directly in front of an oncoming pack of teenagers on wheels. They seemed to be equally clueless about anything going on around them, including the man who was so transfixed on the sun shimmering on the waves that he was about to step directly into a collision to get closer to it. Oh, shit, they’re gonna crash right into him. Brain unable to process the verbal warning you would have issued quickly enough for it to matter, you defaulted to a physical intervention instead. Dropping your shoes like hot stones, you reached out with both hands to grab the man’s left arm and pulled. 

Several things happened at once. 

You closed your grip around his bicep, blurting out a “hey!” at the same time that he let out a startled gasp, spinning his head in your direction, the backwards momentum you used to stop him from stepping into a potential disaster sending you both tumbling into the soft sand. You landed in a seated position, hands releasing his arm to brace behind yourself, the man landing somewhat haphazardly on his hip. Oh my god, I didn’t mean to- 

Both of you looked up at one another at the same time then, and you were struck by the warmest pair of golden brown eyes that you had ever seen, more light and depth to them that you would ever be able to put into words, even when they were coming in a steadier stream. Oh, he’s... You felt your own eyes widen as they scanned the rest of his face - the little creases in the corners of his eyes, the strong angle of his nose, full, plush lips and a swath of patchy facial hair that suited him - upwards to the windswept waves of curls that crowned his head. This man is gorgeous. You blinked down at the loose fitting short sleeved button down that he wore, the top three closures left wide open to expose all of his neck and enough of his chest to force you to swallow hard at the sight of the freckles that dotted the skin there. He was easily the most attractive person you’d laid eyes on. You had never even written a character anywhere near as good looking as he was, because you wanted the people in your stories to seem believable, human. And I pulled him onto the fucking ground. I am so- 

“You saved me.” His accented voice hit your ear and put a quick stop to your thoughts. Shifting himself so that he was in a similar position to you, sitting in the sand and drawing his knees up in front of him, he hesitantly reached for you with one hand - one large hand, fingers thick and knuckles prominent - but pulled it back as though he were unsure whether or not it would be okay if he touched you. After I yanked you to your ass without a word? Yeah, I think you c- Settling for a nod and a genuinely grateful smile, he let his palm curve over the top of one knee. “Thank you for the rescue. I was not paying attention to the roller skaters at all, and if it were not for you there would have been a big crash and that would have been terrible.” 

“Oh, it,” you cleared your throat, a swarm of butterflies flapping through your stomach like you hadn’t felt since you were in high school. “It’s not a big deal, you don’t need to…” An awkward little laugh slipped out that made you wonder who the hell you were and where the you that you knew went. “I’m sorry you still ended up on the ground, I-” 

“Please, do not apologize! It would have been much worse to have a collision. At least this way the landing was soft.” His smile widened, expression brightening even more. “I am Javi,” he introduced himself, finally deciding that it would be the right time to extend his hand. You took it, watching as he eclipsed your palm in his, giving it a small shake before letting go. “What is your name?” You gave it to him, shocked and stunned that this sort of interaction was actually occurring, even more so when you heard him say it back to you. “What brings you to Huntington Beach this afternoon?” 

Is this… is he for real? “Um,” another laugh escaped you as you wondered how best to answer while simultaneously wondering if you hadn’t fallen into an alternate reality. “Well, I-” 

“I should not have asked.” His features quickly arranged themselves into a mask of slight embarrassment, hands both plastered to his shins. “I do not mean to pry, it is just that-” 

You shook your head, giving him a small smile. “Oh, no, it’s fine I just… you caught me off guard. Most people don’t ask questions like that and I…” You shrugged. “Wasn’t expecting it. I’m here today because I was hoping to find some inspiration. I’m a writer and I come here to get ideas sometimes. When I’m not saving strangers from getting run over by skaters, that is.” 

If his smile widened before, it burst open then. He leaned closer to you, hair falling over his brow to cover part of his forehead, and you realized that he smelled amazing - like cinnamon and saffron. “But we are not strangers anymore.” He winked and it was all you could do not to fall over like a fainting goat. I need to get it together. I’m… he… “And it turns out that we are here for the same reason.” We are? “I am also a writer and I am working on a screenplay. One of my characters has an interest in surfing and I,” he used one hand to gesture to himself, flattening it against his chest, “do not know anything about it so I came here to watch.” Grinning almost as though he’d been caught red handed at something, he went on. “I will admit though that I was distracted by the way the sun looked on the ocean and my thoughts began to wander, so I do not know that I am any more familiar with surfing than I was before I came here, but,” he tilted his head and looked towards the sea. “It is never a waste of time to see something so beautiful.” He sighed, the sound peaceful and calm, and as you watched him watching the waves you had to agree. After a beat, Javi turned back to you, curiosity written in the furrow of his brow and the set of his lips. “And you? Did you find the inspiration that you were looking for?” 

“I…” Your project suddenly felt far less daunting as you sat next to him on the beach, your shoes still a few feet away and people zooming and twirling and gliding by on their skates. Suddenly you felt the wheels start turning again and you just knew that that night would be spent sitting in front of your screen typing until the early hours of morning. He’d been a bit dramatic when he said that you saved him… but suddenly you thought that maybe the interaction was what you both needed at that moment in time. I think he might have just saved my book… or at least my deadline. “I think I did, Javi.” 

“That,” he bumped your shoulder with his, and you didn’t even try to hold back the small laugh that trickled out at the innocent contact. “Is very good to hear.” 

.

.

.

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please feel free to let me know or you can fill out the form on my masterlist.      

I have NO IDEA who to tag in this, so I am sorry if I tagged you and you didn’t want to be, or if I missed adding you - please feel free to let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from this list! 

tags: @something-tofightfor @littlemisspascal @practicalghost​ @woodlandmouth​ @princessxkenobi​

#javi gutierrez x female reader #javi gutierrez x you #javi g x female reader #javi g x you #pedrostories #javi g fic #tuwomt #guys... i do not know where this came from but its here now #i guess i write javi g now #like i needed another cat to herd #anywho. #june drabbles 2022 #day 10- skating #lifesaver

[sky-squido]

For the ask game: Q, X, and, Y?

HI YES THIS ASK IS FROM SEPTEMBER—ANYWAY MOVING ON

Q: Do you have any discarded scenes/storylines/projects?

Yeah, actually! I never post anything to Ao3 unless I’m 100% sure I’m going to finish it (even if it takes me literal years). That means both that I’ve never gonna perma-hiatus/abandon a fic if it’s on Ao3 and also that there are a lot of things floating around that I’ve actually put some legwork into that haven’t really gotten anywhere and I doubt I’ll get around to, so they've never really seen the light of day.

i was gonna permadeath hyrule and then i didn’t, details here

i did some light drafting and outlining of a story where the Four Sword splits Sky. it’d have to be long to do it justice and i didn’t wanna commit to that with two active WIPS on Ao3 at the time. i have just finished To Isolate, but i have 30k words of celestial navigation nonsense to now balance with hey four so i doubt i’ll get around to this one

i’ve got 4k words of legend slowly opening up to sky and telling him things and growing much closer and then very belatedly realizing that he knows next to nothing about sky himself. i started it in someone’s discord dms, but it wasn’t really going anywhere that excited me so i dropped it. if people want me to slap what i do have of discarded sketches-but-writing like this one on tumblr, let me know, though i warn you that they’ll all cut off partway through and be deeply unsatisfying

i’ve got 2.5k words of outline for something that’s kind of the same idea i mentioned in bullet 3 but it pulls wind into the mix and instead of being an i-just-dove-in-and-started-writing, it’s a pretty solid outline of something i just didn’t feel like fleshing out. the working fic title was “don’t look at me, i won’t be able to smile for you.”

i have another doc titled “haha lol legend is a punching bag.” this is a very apt title. legend gets nabbed by a baddie, puts up a heck of a fight tryna get away, almost manages, and then gets caught for real, bonked with malice, and unleashed onto his friends because we love to see link v link combat and the old i-know-you’re-in-there-somewhere fight. kind of an extension of that Malice!Legend ficlet i slapped on here a long while ago, but it does way more things. this one’s just an outline.

i’ve got 1k words of legend on koholint talking to marin after realizing the island was fake. had a cool take on marin, but wasn't really the vibe

i have this vague, very fluid concept that’s just “five times legend was helpless and one time he refused to be again.” what those five times are vary every time i try outlining it, but it’s just a lot of legend running into different kinds of The One Problem He Can’t Solve and struggling to cope with not being omnipotent. might actually revisit this one cuz i still like it a lot and i think there were some good ideas in here. my biggest problem with it is the “and one time he refused to be again” because i don’t like the implication that the solution to not being omnipotent is just to Try Harder but “five times legend was helpless and one time he accepted it” just sounds depressing. i’m very open to suggestions on this one!

i’ve got 2k words (written, not an outline) of four coming back to camp one night with red Very Much In Charge so his eyes are very red and then hyrule thinks he’s possessed and draws his sword on him and red freaks out and ditches and the other three have to figure out what’s going on. i didn’t really think it was going anywhere interesting but what really stopped me from continuing was that i started writing four Very Much Like A System and it was cool but then i started researching the neuroscience behind it and psychologist brain went wheeeeeee and now thinking about the fic just makes me want to do research instead of working on it oop

this one venty thing of hyrule just having no energy whatsoever and not wanting to talk to anyone. then he climbs a tree and feels a bit better. that’s literally it, and this one is actually complete, i just didn’t feel like posting it anywhere, though i can plop it here if y’all want.

then i have a silly AU outlined where all of the LU boys are either students or instructors at a flight school (like for airplanes and pilots n stuff). it would have to be really infodumpy though and i’m doing enough of that with my celestial navigation fic. the characters and world are fun but i also didn’t really have a storyline i liked so this hasn’t gone anywhere

there are probably more kicking around but i can’t find them right now

as for discarded scenes and storylines within fics i have actually written, there definitely are some, but i don’t really have any way of keeping track of them. the one i remember most vividly is that there was gonna be a part in to isolate ch.8 where sky overhears legend playing ballad of the wind fish and wind asks him about it and legend says he was hoping this was all some bad dream he could wake up from, but it didn’t really fit in the flow of the narrative we ended up with. there are actually a lot of deleted scenes from chapters 8 onwards because the outline and the actual thing are virtually unrecognizable as being part of the same fic.

X: A character you enjoy making suffer. All of them, obviously, but Wind and Four have been climbing that particular ladder! we need more content of them being deep and interesting and mature together (and wind especially, solo) and what better way to explore that than through strategically deployed angst and suffering!! this bodes well for Hey Four >:3

Y: A character you want to protect. all of them, believe it or not, but right now it’s mostly Legend, shockingly! he’s been my favorite punching bag for a while, but i’ve also noticed myself growing increasingly gentle with what i put him through and how i have him take it lately because these days it's actually way more interesting for me to be kind to him than to bully him

thank you for the ask and i hope you don't miss my reply considering it's been several months sfkghskghsdlfgjsdkl take care!!

#squido answers

[samatedeansbroccoli]

For the fanfic writers asks: 😈 and 🦅!

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

Oh 100%! Usually I kill someone. Though sometimes I just won’t let two people be together but that’s rare. I love stories that explore how life isn’t infinite and that despite the hardships they undergo, the characters find little ways to make their life worth living. And then usually before they accomplish their goal, they die.

I do put warnings when I murder someone, yet apparently people keep missing it XD

🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

This one really depends. Most of the time I just go by the seat of my pants because if I outline I feel like I already wrote the story. That said, I keep an extra document on the side and write little scenes in it, arranging the scenes in the order I want so I know what to work towards. So a bit of both?

But it also comes down to the length of the story. If I know it’s going to be a long fic with multiple chapters or a long one shot (10K+ usually), I’ll make some summary/basic outline just to keep my ideas heading in one direction. If I THINK it’s going to be less than 10K (and then that 2K fic turns into a 30K fic), first of all. Fuck. I don’t actually plan those.

I guess the most I plan consistently is writing a one line summary of my story. “Makarov and Price are in prison together.” “When Penny is assigned to a space station, which was considered the highest honor one could get when she applied, she learns she’s become an expendable experiment abandoned in space.” “Jess and Constance kill Sam.” They read like Ao3 summaries almost.

I’m rambling so yeah. Do what you will with the word spam XD

Ask game here

#thebroccoliresponds #thanks Jenny!

[hwajin]

❁ 𝕗𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕩 - 𝕟𝕤𝕗𝕨 𝕒-𝕫 ❁

genre: smut

pairing: felix x gn!reader

wc: 2k

warnings: use of toys, mention of pain/ rough sex, one hint of sub!felix x dom!gn!reader, oral but everything is mad soft otherwise

this post is a work of fiction and has nothing to do with the actual person written about. the person is used as an outliner of characteristics for the character i've created in my head and is therefore in no relation to real, existing people and purely imaginative.

req! // not my gif, credits to owner! // not my template

𝐚 - 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞

he's the most adorable when it comes to aftercare, sees it equally as important and sensual as spicy time before. it's a type of way for him to bond and get closer to you more, spending quite the time just talking and cuddling together, sometimes while taking a bath too. just really loves the intimacy and all the blushing and slight shyness that kinda comes with it. oh would defo get you some food and water as well like almost right after pulling out lmao.

𝐛 - (𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞) 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭

i feel like his favourite body part on you are your hands. like he'd love both the sexual and non sexual aspect of them, how you'll be cuddling and comparing hand sizes, or taking a walk, fingers interwined, but how moments later those same hands could be wrapped around his dick or throat, stimulating him in just the right places you knew got him weak by the knees. he'd simply be obsessed with the drast contrast. his favourite body part on his own on the other hand could be his neck, loving how you'd kiss it up and down, never shy to leave marks and bruises as you went.

𝐜 - 𝐜𝐮𝐦

he could cum forever and ever and ever. like it seems like he's never running out, getting hard in a heartbeat again after releasing. he just can't get enough of you really, wanting to kiss and touch and feel you the whole night, the need for you only growing more with every new round. loves releasing on your tummy or chest too, or anywhere he can see and play with it, it's just so fun and intimate for him.

𝐝 - 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭

he'd fantasize about cockwarming while he's busy playing video games. it's not even that much of a big deal and he'd know you'd agree on the idea if he only told you, but for some reason he's embarrassed to even word it out. mostly because he doesn't really know how, not wanting to come off as too needy or desperate, so this thought of his keeps living in his mind only <\3 until you propose the idea yourself and watch the boi's eyes light up in excitement lmao.

𝐞 - 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

you were his first ever but he's a damn fast learner, what he's lacking in experience he makes up with enthusiasm. he'd listen to every of your wishes, would watch closely if you showed him how you liked to be touched, wanting to make you feel the best possible. you'd simply learn a lot together, both about yourself and about each other, you'd talk and discuss a lot about interests and experiments, without any filters.

𝐟 - 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

honestly loves everything where he can see your face. he'd love having you ride him, the position calling for such an easy exchange of power between the two of you, the flip switching depending on who's able to take the upper hand first. if it's felix, he's gripping onto your flesh, guiding you through your movements, teasing you about your moans and whines and groans. if you're the one taking the upper hand he's a mess beneath you, throwing his head back and trying to hold onto something, anything, for dear life, asking for you to give him more and more. also lowkey loves 69ing but you didn't hear that from me.

𝐠 - 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐲

you'd definitely chuckle and giggle around with him more often than not. both of you see sex as something so intimate and close and vulnerable that especially talking and laughing together during it would just add to all those giddy feelings.

𝐡 - 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫

he keeps himself pretty hairless, tho he doesn't mind trimming or not shaving at all for weeks if he's not feeling it lmao. i feel like he'd like you unshaved actually, tho he wouldn't have an answer if you asked him why. he'd simply find you hotter in a way, and loves the level of comfort you both have when you don't feel the urge to shave for him.

𝐢 - 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲

ALLLL about intimacy !! ALL ABOUT IT !!! he adores closeness and the thought of being connected on such a vulnerable level, it makes him all giddy and soft and makes him fall for you so much deeper. boy will surely have tears prickling in his eyes the one or other time during sex as well, purely out of happiness to have you and to be able to call you his - which would make you all giddy and soft as well.

𝐣 - 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟𝐟

not big on it at all because he knows getting off with you there is so much better, so he doesn't have a desire to touch himself even when he's missing you. if his schedules are too tight and stressfull and time consuming and there's no chance of seeing you for quite a while he'll jerk off solely to relieve some stress, but that's about it.

𝐤 - 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬

praiseeee LOTS OF PRAISE. both giving and receiving equally, he's a sucker for toothrottingly sweet words and compliments, to both know he's doing well and letting you know so as well. he's a big experimenter in general tho, so you'd really explore what both of you like in the midst of your relationship.

𝐥 - 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

he wants some safe place where no one at all can interrupt because he'd HATE sneaking around somwhere, so either the bedroom or the shower/ bath would be his go to and absolute favourite place. the fact of being able to lock the doors and spend as much time as you can possibly imagine together while being all over each other just does it for him, he loves the private, intimate places.

𝐦 - 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

there's truly not much to say except that you are his one and only motivation and the only reason he'd get horny. you destroyed porn for him from the moment you first started dating because not even his favourite clips and videos could ever compare to the way you'd get him worked up.

𝐧 - 𝐧𝐨

a big no for him is anything that could hurt you in the slightest. even going rougher on you sometimes, like digging his fingers and nails into your skin and seeing slight marks after would make him feel SO bad even if you'd assure him a million times hfjejfje. he's really open to experiment tho, as long as it doesn't cross the line of any of you hurting, he's not a fan of pain.

𝐨 - 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥

LOVESLOVESLOVES GIVING YOU ORAL!!!! way more than he likes receiving tbh, he loves just diving into your thighs and spending a good while there, and the more you squirm around and the harder he can feel your thighs shake and clench around his head; the better. that's why he loves it so much, the fact he's the one making you lose control over your body sends him to orbit and back and gives him a sort of pleasure within itself, he'd swear he could cum untouched.

𝐩 - 𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞

really depends on both your moods, but mostly it's somewhere between slow and fast? like he's neither taking his almost frustratingly long time, but he also is never rutting into you like an animal. it's really a good mixture in between that gets your head spinning and toes curling.

𝐪 - 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬

they're not his favourite sort of sex but he doesn't mind them when both of you are busy. he does love taking his time with a bunch of kissing and making out and foreplay, but if time doesn't allow it he'd try to make you feel as good as possible in the shortest amount of time as possible for you both in between schedules and work.

𝐫 - 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐬

in relation to the location thing, he's not a risk taker. he prefers playing safe and not stressing out about possible interruptions and awkward moments, so it's locked doors everywhere at all times. the most he'll go is in fact not locking a door when some members are home too to try out how the adrenaline of being caught affects you both, but he'd lie saying he loves it.

𝐬 - 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚

honestly could go multiple rounds with ease. he's a dancer after all, so especially if he's well rested he could go for ages and ages, giving you breathers and breaks in between.

𝐭 - 𝐭𝐨𝐲𝐬

loves using them to increase the fun so much!!! both on him and you too. you'd have a little smol collection of toys in your shared bedroom which would come in handy from time to time, especially when you've planned for a long night if the two of you haven't had much time together lately. toys would be such a good foreplay method in felix's opinion, he could get you all worked up without wasting his own energy and stamina too early on, so yes he loves em.

𝐮 - 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫

honestly as much as he'd like to tease you for hours on end to see you getting needier and whinier for him he CAN'T TAKE IT HIMSELF. like he wants to see you cum as much as he wants to egg you on and get you worked up, so the night often starts with the man testing your waters and not giving you all you want at first but ends in him giving in to you eventually.

𝐯 - 𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐞

bro honestly a big moaner and i think that goes hand in hand with his praise kink. like he loves being vocal not only in the matter of sounds but words as well, mostly to let you know and assure you how damn good you're making him feel. would love for you to be the same, he thrives off of your gasps and moans and the sounds of his name rolling off your tongue, it keeps him growing more and more eager to please you and make you feel the best you've ever felt <3

𝐰 - 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝

"p-please baby, i need to cum please let me cum- fuck, please, please-". another one of felix's moans rolled over his tongue, each one louder than the ones before. his head was thrown back into the pillows, eyes shut and brows furrowed to create creases along his forehead. the veins on his arms were nearly popping at how hard he was gripping onto the damn bed, so needy yet aware, knowing of the fact that he couldn't simply cum as he pleased, aware that he must ask for your permission. you gave him a chuckle, the sound making him buck his hips up into your fist, whining out at his own almost embarrassing neediness. "go on then baby, you've been so good tonight, you deserve it, don't you think?"

𝐱 - 𝐱-𝐫𝐚𝐲

i've never seen a dick irl so i won't even bother brainstorming inches because i wouldn't fucking know LMAO but when you first got together he's told you that he in fact is insecure about his size which turned out to be for nothing when you actually went at it, seeing him being perfectly average sized.

𝐲 - 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

he's yearning for the connection and intimacy more than for the actual pleasure most of the time as stated multiple times before. like, if you haven't seen each other in a while it wouldn't be sex he'd think about first but simply spending time with you, cuddling, watching a movie, you name it. tho if the cuddles turn touchier, that's when he's starting to shift around in neediness, asking for permission to touch.

𝐳 - 𝐳𝐳𝐳

doesn't really fall asleep quickly at all, not even after a long night. he loves talking to you for at least an hour more afterwards, touching and caressing each other softly while sharing whispers and glances and eye contact and he just finds it so romantic? like he doesn't want to sleep, doesn't want to miss out on the time he has with you and on what you have to tell him about annoying coworkers and bosses and other everyday nonsense, but there's nothing he'd rather do than listening to you for hours and hours on end when you're still all giddy and exhausted.

tagging: @etherealeeknow @linoskitty @unexceptional-h @rseanne @diue @es-kay-zee @urcracksisx @jeyelleohe @yunkiwii @meloohmel @nyrasneedy @seochhj @chans-starlight

#this is gonna flop i know it #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #lee felix imagines #lee felix scenarios #lee felix x reader #lee felix smut

[maximotts]

𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑢𝑚 • 𝑤. 𝑚𝑎𝑥𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑓𝑓

a/n: hello and welcome to: Lustful Yearning! No but really I'm super excited for this series and I hope you all love it as much as I do. The parts are already planned out, outlined, and marked off as per the masterlist so I'm excited for y'all to go on this lil journey with me!

words: 2K

warnings: This is an 18+ series, minors DNI; smutty intentions/happenings; masturbation; voyeurism; loss of orgasm; Wanda is a Frustrated Individual and reader is an Asshole

desires unspoken AU; on one of her afternoons alone, Wanda spies you across the lake and her curious mind does what it does best... create fake scenarios

desires unspoken series. || main masterlist.

• 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑢𝑚 | 𝘥𝘦𝘴·​𝘪·​𝘥𝘦·​𝘳𝘪·​𝘶𝘮 | \ ˌ𝘥𝘦𝘴əˈ𝘥𝘪𝘳ēə𝘮 \ 𝘯. 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨; 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺: 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 •

──── ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─────

Getting away was rare. For as long as she could remember, there were tasks to do, people to look after— true downtime was practically nonexistent. If Wanda wasn’t being forced to wait on her painfully dysfunctional husband, she was dealing with whatever crisis of the hour her mother-in-law could think up for her. Some would think that since this was the only kind of life she’d ever known, she could never want for different.

Those people would be sorely wrong.

Wanda, burdened as she was, knew she needed more. There’d never been a particular lifestyle in mind, but something comfortable and warm, preferably with someone who understood her. Love should’ve been a necessity, but she’d long since given that up; her guardian turned mother-in-law -who insisted on being called an aunt, never a mother of any sorts- kept her away from any actual prospects. Much of her life was the same way; sheltered away from anything that could let her grow or develop past the confines of the household she was forced to stay in. Unfortunately for her, Wanda didn’t have the privilege of being blissfully ignorant. For as much as she was made to stay away, the act itself increased her rebellious nature and the young brunette found such rebellion in books.

It was easy enough to get those, her aunt at least allowing her the freedom to be well-read, but the ones she found herself drawn to weren’t the type to be discussed in “proper�� educational circles. Not that it mattered; Wanda was never invited or welcomed to conversations with her husband and his peers. Staying quiet, out of trouble, and available 24/7 were the only traits desired from her. It was aggravating, but it let her read whatever she pleased in her small leisure hours. And read she did.

There were a wealth of books in all lengths dedicated to romance, worlds where everyone always found a way to sate their desires and societal norms were thrown to the wind… oh how Wanda wished she lived there instead. She felt smothered how she was living right now, forced to be someone else for the sake of others around her. Wanda barely knew herself outside of what she could do for others, but there was never enough time to think about who she wanted to be or what she longed to do if it wasn’t during these short escapes.

Before moving to Paris, she snuck away for her private reading and people watching time, but now here in the city it was harder. It’d taken her weeks to find a quiet space in a pasture rarely traversed, a place where she could just sit and be. She was halfway through her latest novella find, the woman within being snuck away to a secluded alleyway for a quick tryst, when she heard a rustling nearby. No one was ever here when she was, much less to actually stay in the vicinity instead of just passing through, and Wanda couldn’t help but feel a bristle of annoyance at being interrupted.

For a while Wanda stayed still, waiting to see if the intruder would wander away like most did, but after a few minutes when she could still hear the far off crunching of leaves and grass, she knew she had to take action. Reluctantly putting her book down, Wanda twisted until she was sitting on her knees, crouched in the tall grass, seeking out the source of the disturbance. She expected an annoyance, some day drunkard stumbling through the city outskirts, but maybe even more daunting, Wanda found you.

Clearly you were picking something, bending and stretching, walking around until you found more of what you were after. It made sense when she thought about it; herbalists had to get herbs from somewhere, but she never would’ve thought you’d find them out here of all places. Work duties aside, Wanda was finding it harder and harder to ponder on why you were picking your own plants as she watched you examine each sprout you picked, handling them gently and grading them against the low sunlight before putting them in your neatly organized satchel. Each time you bent over, she could catch the barest glimpse of skin under your buttoned cotton blouse, sun reflecting the outlines of your breasts just enough for Wanda to remember it later.

It was hot outside that afternoon, humid by the shallow lake separating you two, and it seemed like that heat affected you too, nimble fingers unbuttoning three fastens until the shirt was loose around your chest. Wanda assumed you thought you were alone; otherwise you’d never expose yourself so, but she chose to believe the show was specifically for her. This time, you’d started to crouch, knees bent and body hunched over while you dragged your fingers through the field of wild herbs and flowers and Wanda didn’t try to deny the tingle making its way through her body wasn’t a direct result of her imagining those hands on her.

The last time you’d met, she’d felt your hands on her, one hand helping her with the window while the other, hidden from view of the others, gripped her hip, possessive over something you didn’t own. It’d driven her wild then and every night since, theorizing how she could get your touch back but without layers of clothing in the way. Wanda’s mind got away from her easily, thoughts drifting to being the thing you touched silently out here instead of the plants you picked. This wasn’t the first time she’d done this, spying on someone from afar during her private escapes and letting her mind go wild; there was no way Wanda could get more painfully stifled than her life and if she didn’t allow herself this, she’d surely combust. The brunette started slowly, rolling her hips against the firm ground just enough so she could feel it.

You rolled your sleeves higher, pinned at your elbows and when you reached forward, grasping for that one perfect plant you seemingly had to have, Wanda pictured you reaching for her instead, beckoning her closer to get a better look. She imagined you’d take her with all the confidence you walked with; so sure of yourself in everything, you’d hopefully know exactly how you wanted her. Maybe you’d pull her over your head, how she’d only ever read in books, and force her down until she had to feel your tongue licking her over and over until she cried out. If she were lucky, maybe you’d examine her with the same awe you did your work, pleased with the thorough job you were doing ruining her. Just before Wanda closed her eyes, she was blessed with a better view of your chest, round breasts drawn forward with your position and Wanda hoped to one day see them up close, hopefully while you took her apart with your fingers from above.

She was moving faster now, mouth hanging slightly open with soft gasps blowing the wisps of straw shielding her from direct view; the ground wasn’t enough, it never was. The heat from outside and her dress turned the gasps into pants, her long, loose hair sticking to the sticky sides of her head. It was nearing uncomfortable how hot and wet she felt, squirming erratically for anything that’d let her have this one little pleasure to no avail. Still Wanda thought maybe, just maybe, this time with so many ideas swirling around that she could just finally hit just the right-

“Enjoying yourself, Mrs. Maximoff?”

Wanda nearly leaped sky high, flipping over onto her back and sitting up on her elbows to shamefully face whoever caught her. Giving them a once over, from foot up, she realized it was you once she saw that half open blouse up close, “Do you enjoy giving women heart attacks?”

Her face was beet red, partially embarrassed, but mostly the arousal of being caught by just the person she was fantasizing about. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t hoping being alone like this wouldn’t spark something further; dreams were nice and all, but Wanda was smart enough to know nothing could be better than reality. Heart beating faster than it ever had, Wanda sat up, knees folded to the sides of her and you’d bet money if you could peek under her skirts, her clothed center sat ready to rut against the soft terrain at a moment’s notice. There was no one around, nothing but your incorrigible nature wanting to see Wanda absolutely beside herself before you gave her what she wanted… but fuck, you wanted to have her right here.

“You won’t get far that way, sweet thing, too many layers.” And then she shifted; you knew it was to get any remaining dress layers out of the way, only the thin cotton of her underwear and the knit blanket she’d laid out for her private afternoon picnic kept her from the ground. Wanda was teasing you; innocent as she appeared, she at least knew how to do that. The cracked spine of the erotica novella laid out next to her confirmed that. Two could play this game— Wanda was cute, but you had the experience.

Wanda shrugged, “I think it feels fine..” Truly she didn’t know any better, having tried everything she’d read about, but with the same frustrating ending of zero release. She’d read about it countless times, utter bliss exploding from every pore while tossing and turning in the sheets, but try as she might, she hadn’t been able to do it. Dreaming in the grass was the closest she’d come and despite the lack of orgasm, it felt good and it was all she had.

“Fine isn’t how anyone describes ecstasy,” you leant forward, bent at the waist to give her the view you’d seen her ogling from across the water just moments ago. Wanda’s chin was soft and delicate in your hand, instantly pliant as you tilted her head to yours… good. The kiss you placed upon her lips was feather light, but the spark was there and it took everything in you not to break first push her back and take her right there in the field until all she could do was scream your name.

But you had other plans for her.

As you pulled away, Wanda tried going with you, surging forward with a whimper until you stopped her straight where her sex pressed perfectly into the blanket. “Why don’t you describe ecstasy for me then,” But you shook your head as you straightened up and she loathed that wolfish grin you wore. “Aren’t you supposed to help your patients, doctor?”

“You are not yet my patient, Mrs. Maximoff. Someone hasn’t yet visited me.” You’d been waiting for her to come around and while you knew she was busy, you’d grown impatient and maybe you did a bit of trailing to figure out her little spot, but it was all worth it to catch this scandalous moment. Wanda grimaced, but her pout gave away her disappointment and you folded, just a little. Not because the puppy dog expression melted your heart; push and pull never hurt in these types of games. “Fine. Try a pillow next time, anything for leverage.”

You gave the advice as easily as you’d tell someone to ice a sprain, playing it off by walking away before Wanda could ask more, but you would regret seeing her eyes go wide with the excitement of something new.

──── ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─────

Late that night found Wanda with her favorite pillow between her legs, desperately rocking herself over it back and forth for just that last little bit of pressure she needed. It worked, it was going to work, but she just.. couldn’t. “Fuck, fuck.. please…!” The brunette’s legs shook with exhaustion and she was forced to pause, falling forward with her hips pushed up from the squished lump that was her pillow.

She huffed and blew her hair out of her face, never more happy that her sorry excuse for a husband worked late nights and slept away from her most nights. “That was hardly any help…” Wanda rolled over, sprawled out and anything but relaxed even in the solace of her bedroom. First thing in the morning, she’d be off to the doctor to deal with her most recent headache: you.

#desires unspoken au #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x f!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #motts writes. #motts is away from her computer.

[ghoultramp]

dream, interrupted [bakugou x reader]

▷       bnha

↳ pairing: katsuki bakugou x f!reader

↳ content: masturbation, somnophilia, thigh fucking, praise, cockwarming

↳ words: 2k

⇢ summary: katsuki is frustrated that he can’t sleep, and also just a bit horny.

also available on ao3

⇢ note: i would say this is tamer, softer even, than my last few pieces, considering the content. there are a few mentions of alcohol being consumed the previous evening (which has been tagged), but this was written with two consenting adults in a secure relationship in mind.

i do hope you enjoy this bakugou fic that almost caused me to have an existential crisis - aha~

The dull drone of the traffic beyond the apartment windows were beginning to grind away at his sanity. How long had he been awake for this time? With a grunt, he rolled over to check his phone, once again, for the time. 

“Fucking damn it,” Katsuki cursed under his breath.

His angular features twisted as he scowled, how had it only been 10 minutes? It didn't seem possible. 

He returned the phone to its resting place, under his pillow, before begrudgingly turning onto his back. He brought his hands to his face and dragged thick fingers through his disheveled blond hair. He let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing his palms hard against his eyes, pulling them down his cheeks to rest idly on his chest.

Katsuki’s ruby eyes wandered over to the lump next to him, watching the cover rise and fall softly with your breathing. The recent longer, more arduous workdays were uncharacteristically weighing him down; the lack of sleep was making him grumpier, easier to anger - both of which becoming a boiling pot - and the sheer workload was now more than a little overwhelming. 

His eyelids felt heavy recalling memories of the previous evening; Katsuki had come home in a revolting mood, worse than usual, and instead of using his words like a big boy, he took out his frustrations on you and your body after unwinding with a few drinks. But then again...

You never complained.

It was no secret that you loved how he could become so unrestrained during those 'bad day at work' sessions, passionate and explosive. 

Trying to simulate your light touch, he traced the outlines of his well-defined abdominal muscles. He shuddered when his fingers brushed along the sensitive skin of his tight obliques, visualizing your delicate fingers repeating these same motions from last night. He let his eyelids finally fall as he recalled you positioned over him, your drunk needy eyes taking in his statuesque body as he scratched at your back hungrily.

Settling himself in further, Katsuki shifted his hips and shoulders. He reached an eager hand down to his hardening cock, cautiously fondling it as his eyes peered over to assess your level of consciousness.

"Hnnn--" Katsuki failed to hold back his groan, his abdominal muscles twisting and tightening as you let out a gratifying sound in your sleep.

His cock convulsed and the feedback spurred him to grip tighter. He could feel it throbbing beneath his grip, he stroked his cock harder upon hearing the gift of another delicious noise from you.

“You sure seem like you’re having a nice dream,” Katsuki murmured, opening one eye as he turned his head to look at the back of yours. 

He bit his lip, imagining that he was reaching his free hand out to stroke your hair, gently at first, before he would then spread his fingers to take a hold of you tightly. A low growl escaped his throat, he was frustrated.

Katsuki grunted as he turned onto his side, shifting closer to you. He was careful to position his dick-holding hand so as not to hamper its performance. He halted immediately when you shuffled ever so slightly, a strangled moan caught in his throat as the leaking head of his tender, hard cock made contact with the bare skin of your ass.

His breathing was now shallow and irregular as he extended his unoccupied hand, he could feel himself quiver as he brought it to rest cautiously high on your thigh. He let his thumb press gently against your hip. 

The sweet song of a soft whimpering encouraged him.

“Such a cute thing,” he whispered as he traced faint circles against your ass with his precum tipped cock. “Those good dreams better be about me, princess.” 

His grip around his cock tightened when you groaned, shifting your leg in your sleep. Katsuki inhaled sharply, biting his lip hard. It took tremendous effort to quell the moans he so desperately wanted to release, as he felt the warmth of your pussy envelop him.

Katsuki felt the aching pull in his hips as he rubbed himself unashamedly against your rear. He continued caressing your hip while he fought hard against the urge to dig his in his nails and mercilessly fuck you right there and then.

“Fuuuck,” he hissed, caught in the thought as he leaned his head back.

Breathlessly, he finally brought himself to meet your enticing entrance. It took all his strength not to cum right there when he brushed against you, your tight cunt already dripping wet. He followed your slick juices to your thighs.

“God, you’re fucking soaked,” he breathed, rubbing the head of his cock against your inner thighs.

He imagined that your thighs - the way they were tightly shut, the way your juices had trickled down - were a completely different part of your anatomy. Katsuki almost yowled, caught deep in his reverie, when you quivered in response to his touch. He’d not expected that another one of your movements would cause him to penetrate the tight gap between your thighs. 

Straining his neck, he observed with bated breath as you shifted yet again, this time it was your arms. He exhaled, relieved when he saw they had only moved closer to your head. He found the way you nuzzled your lightly blushed cheeks into the pillow quite precious. 

Katsuki’s breath shuddered as he let go of his cock, his need was agonizing. He had to do something. He was allowed to, surely? 

He found himself slowly rolling against you as he fucked the space between your legs. As he moved his hand from your hip to your thigh, he felt the overwhelming need to knead his fingers against you; the succulently soft, long moan escaping your lips caused his eyes to roll back, his eyelids flutter, and his hips quiver.

Katsuki shook his head, trying to collect himself. There was no way he could allow himself to cum yet, not before he'd claimed your sweet, ripe cunt in your unconscious state.

"Focus," he scolded himself with a grumble.

Now taking the base of his tender, pulsating cock between his thumb and forefingers, Katsuki maneuvered himself until he was poised within reach of your sweet hole. He was feeling more inebriated from your warmth and scent alone than from any of the drinks you’d both shared last night.

He gently pressed on, feeling your cunt quiver; with the mess that had already been made between the pair of you, it didn’t take much for the head of Katsuki’s cock to intrude your tight walls. He let out a low groan when he heard the sopping wet sound your pussy made upon contact.

Katsuki gently rocked on his hips, he couldn’t refrain from panting as the friction against sensitive nerves vibrated throughout his body. How much longer would he be able to edge himself like this?

He didn’t care to halt when you made a sound this time, he was far too lost in these short, shallow, pleasurable thrusts. That was until he heard a whimper, louder than any of the sounds you'd made before; he stopped with his full head nestled in your cunt, wincing sharply when you tightened around it, the warning before hearing your dozy, broken voice.

“Kacchan?” The word strained against your dry throat, your eyelids too heavy to open.

“Shh, shh,” Katsuki reassured you, his voice cracking.

You weren't even vaguely aware that his hand had been on your thigh until he moved it, your body was still comfortably numb from the alcohol in your system. You felt your abdomen flutter as he delicately trailed his fingers over your silhouette, resting when he lay it on your head. 

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he purred.

You mumbled incoherently, discombobulated as you tried to make sense of what was going on; you found yourself drifting away softly with the way he stroked your hair, the warmth of his body so close to yours. You thought you heard his voice waver as he hummed.

Katsuki was shaking now, your lack of awareness was even more tantalizing, you were so innocent. He growled low in his throat, taking your hair in his fist just as he’d imagined. He felt you spasm as well as heard the shuddering moan that broke free beyond your lips.

“I’ll be gentle,” he whispered, his voice gruff and heady with arousal, “I promise.”

Katsuki kept his word; he gently lifted his pelvis, you both moaned in blissful unison as he took his time plugging you up completely. You felt his teeth make contact with your shoulder, trying his best to only gently nibble as your walls clamped down him around him. 

“S-stop doing that,” he breathed against your shoulder.

You tried so hard to stifle your chuckle, he only growled when your insides mirrored pulses that corresponded to your laugh. Katsuki tugged on your hair playfully, he was pleased with the way you whimpered and backed up into him in response.

You relaxed your back into his strong chest, groaning as you moved just enough for him to reach under and around you. His hand gently fondled at your breast and he released his grip on your hair as you rolled your neck, resting your head against him, gasping.

Both of your hips swayed in unison, even just these gentle movements were sending delicious quakes throughout your entire body. Katsuki’s unoccupied hand reached around your thigh, you could feel him tremble as he placed his palm on your abdomen. 

“I’ll never get enough of feeling this,” he whispered, you shuddered from his warm breath, lips caressing your earlobe. “Feeling me inside you right--” he pushed down with a palm ever so gently, the back of your head pushed further into him as you moaned without restraint, “--here.”

“Please, make me cum, Kaachan, fill me up,” you begged, whining as you ground against him, “please, Kaachan.”

“Well,” he began, his breathing heavy as turned his palm 90 degrees to point downward, “since you asked so nicely…”

Katsuki’s hand travelled down and you almost yelped when he took your engorged clit between his forefingers. He gently rolled your agonizingly sensitive nub between the first and second knuckles of his fingers, massaging gently as his thrusts picked up pace; just that bit harder and deeper.

Pitiful whines escaped your lips as he hit each one of your nerves, expertly navigating your body as you moved your hips in unison. Your chest heaved with your erratic breathing, lost in the waves of pleasure that seemed to vibrate to the very tip of your limbs. 

Strangled cries escaped your slightly parted, dry lips, your body convulsing as Katsuki pulled out to the tip before one last thrust, bottoming out inside of you.

“There’s a good girl,” he declared as you writhed beneath him.

You felt him nuzzle the side of your face while you grabbed tightly at the sheet and pillow beneath you. Your cries were shaky and broken between luscious moans as you felt the gushing release of your climax, Katsuki’s fingers still gently massaged at your overstimulated clit. 

He let out a long groan as his hips spasmed and you felt him collide with your cervix, Katsuki’s arm shot up to wrap around you as you let out a sob, overwhelmed by the sheer pressure of his cum filling you up. He held you while you both quivered with the rippling aftershocks of your orgasms.

Katsuki pulled you closer to him, his cock still nestled in your cunt, plugging you up nicely. He wriggled and made an oddly happy-sounding noise.

“I love you, y’know that, right?” Katsuki’s voice was hoarse and exhausted. He nuzzled you and you gave a sweet, equally tired sounding giggle; his cocked tensed just a little at that.

“I love you too, dumbass,” you told him, smiling softly.

You reached for the edge of the quilt and tugged it closely to your face before drifting off to the sound of Katsuki’s breathing and the dull drone of the traffic beyond the apartment windows.

#bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader smut #katsuki bakugou x reader fic #bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader smut #bakugou x reader fic #aged up characters #bnha smut #bnha fanfic #katsuki bakugou x reader fanfic #bakugou x reader fanfic #bakugou fanfic #bakugou fic #bakugou smut #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #mha fanfic #mha fic #bnha fic #my hero academia #mha smut #x reader #bnha x reader #reader insert

[supergirlsummer]

Welcome to the 2022 Supergirl Summer Collaboration!

This event will focus on the show as a whole, but when filling out the entry form, participants will have the option to select which ships they’d like to include in their Fic/Art so the pairs can be better matched. ALL SHIPS are welcome in this event, including the less popular ones.

Each team will consist of a writer and an artist who will work together to create a written fan fiction with a piece of art to accompany it. Teams can choose to come up with an idea together or have the art created first and then the fic or vice versa.

Participants will be matched with the following criteria:

Ship Compatibility: Since this is a fandom wide collaboration, teams are not required to focus on any particular Ship. However, since there are members of our fandom with a strong preference for/against certain ships, you will be an option to list ships that wish not to be included in the work.

Communication Preferences: this includes frequency of communication as well as methods of communication.

Rating/Content Comfort Level: While NSFW/Explicit content will be included, each individual has a different comfort level. Submission form will have a section where participants can list any content they are not comfortable with. This may seem odd to some, but this is a TEAM event, so both participants will need to feel comfortable having their names be associated with the content of the collaboration.

Important Things to Know

Participants will have the option to choose how much they’d like to collaborate with their partner so they will know how much communication to expect and no one will be uncomfortable.

A Discord Account is STRONGLY recommended to make communication from admin easier, but info will also be provided through socials and email.

Pairs can communicate however they choose - via email or Social Media.

All teams will be required to check in with Admin by May 1st with progress reports and any issues.

There will be Tumblr, Instagram, and Twitter accounts for the event where the completed works will be shared.

In the event that there are more writers than artists or vice versa, some participants may be asked to provide more than one item. Participants will be given a chance to select if they would be willing to double up, and no one will be asked to create more than 2 fics/art pieces.

Dates to Remember

Entries: Now until February 28th  ENTER HERE

Organization of Pairs by Admin: March 1st - 31st

Pairs Assigned: April 1st (or sooner if done early)

Submit Team Plan (a short summary of the story and plan for the art): No later than April 15th

Submit Story Outline and Rough Sketch: NO LATER than May 1st.

Deadline for Posting to AO3: June 1st

Reveals begin June 2nd and will continue until all works have been revealed.

For Artists:

Art can be any of the following:

Digital Manipulations

Hand Drawn or Painted using any medium

Digital Art

Artists will be required to provide a rough sketch with a description by May 1st. This isn’t an approval/denial situation, just a check in to make sure you’re working.

For Writers:

Fic must be AT LEAST 2k words long, but can be as long as desired.

Ongoing/MultiChapter Fics are ok.

Writers must be sure to select and include all proper ratings, warnings, and tags. Admin will assist if necessary.

Writers will need to provide an outline/story of the fic that they have come up with by May 1st. This isn’t an approval/denial situation, just a check in to make sure you’re working.

Writers are responsible for finding their own Beta/Proofreaders.

Rules:

For the safety and comfort of all participants, this event is for those who are 18 and older. Each participant is responsible for using good judgment when interacting with others online. Getting to know each other can be helpful and it’s great to make new friends, but remember to be cautious and respectful. If your partner requests to stick to discussing the event and nothing more, respect it.

NO Bullying of any sort. Any participant who refuses to treat their partner, and other participants, with dignity and respect will be removed from the event and banned from participating in future events. This includes, but is not limited to, refusing to use correct pronouns/names, hateful comments about sexuality/gender identity, body shaming, religion shaming, etc. Basically, be a NICE human.

Content such as Smut, Sexual Assault, Self Harm, Suicide, Murder, etc - as well as Art that depicts any of them - is allowed, ONLY if both members of the team are comfortable with it. If any of this is included in your work, be sure to use the proper trigger/content warnings!

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