#i want to let go and float in that bubble pls

[rubenesque-as-fuck]

All I want for Christmas is to get dicked down again =/

#all i want for Christmas is to get dicked down again =/ #for real though #and really what I want is someone I can trust/respect enough to have them dom me #because it's been like... a decade? or more? since the last time I got to experience real subspace #i want it #i want to let go and float in that bubble pls #dang it I was SO CLOSE to touching a butt too #my xmas wish #life of faye

[gl1tteryzebra]

rafe overstimulating reader while fingering her pls!!

(sorry i’m so bad at requesting things)

don’t apologise babe, this is my kinda shit 😜

if you had known the harmless little comment would land you in this position… perhaps you would've thought twice before opening your mouth.

it was one of those party’s where the crowd had dwindled down early on, leaving an intimate gathering to congregate in the living room. rafe’s knee bounced petulantly as his gaze flitted to his phone every minute or so— you could tell he was just about ready to go but you were having so much fun! 

"truth." a plethora of boos sounded out in the small space, targeted at you. an ominous smirk stretched onto the lips of the pretty kook girl who asked you. “I've always been curious, what's rafe like in bed?” 

a bubbly giggle floated from your chest, any previous inhibitions muted by the alcohol coursing through your system. “the best of course... but also the greediest.” 

and that was all it took: rafe's pre-existing sour mood + a silly little joke and no more than half an hour later you found yourself spread out limply on your floral doona quilt like a flaccid doll. unable to do anything apart from squirm and mewl pathetically as he anchored your hips to the bed with a heavy arm, his other hand occupied by your sopping cunt– fingers unwavering in their administrations as they crooking into that cushiony spot which usually had your stomach doing excited little flips, but was now tender and achy and begging for a reprieve.

“what was that? ‘don’t think I heard you right,” 

at your lack of response, his thumb cruelly pressed into your sensitive clit, making you jolt. it was an overwhelming combination of pain and pleasure that turned your synapses into dandelion fluff– struggling to form a coherent thought. "n-no more! ah– please, m'sorry."

a saccharine grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he cooed, the faux sympathy causing you to whimper in despair. he really wasn't gonna let this go. "no more? but i'm bein' so generous baby."

"mhmm...ple–"

"'think you deserve this fuckin' dick?" your head mindlessly bobbed up and down, although you were in no state to take him. another finger slipped inside your dripping hole with ease, this one adorned by silver. the foreign stimulation prompted you to wiggle in desperation as your body climbed further up a familiar wall of pleasure; this time, however, it felt as though you were close to toppling into some uncharted abyss.

"nahhhh I dunno 'bout that, only grateful sluts get what they want." 

your walls clamped down on him hard, a telltale sign that had him increasing the pace of his movements with a mocking snort. "ha–your cuttin' off my circulation here baby."

a choked gasp was ripped from your throat, you were so so close. "ra-rafe!"

"yea that's it, say my name."

stars exploded behind your eyes as you came. your chest rising and falling rapidly, overexerting itself. a sticky sheen coated your thighs– you felt dirty and unbelievably spent.

rafe's face came into view, his eyes glistening with satisfaction as he lightly tapped your cheek. "who's the one greedy now?"

sincerely ~ 🦓༝༚༝༚

#rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron smut #divider by @fairytopea #rafe cameron x reader #fem!reader #obx smut

[rawmeknockout]

Swerve talking a lot during sexy times and then getting embarrassed with himself, but reader, who has a voice kink (and just genuinely likes to hear him talk cos they're kinda quiet and shy normally), is like “no no, pls, keep talking <3”

"Oh, frag- Oh! oh, frag you're so tight," His blabbering runs over itself, stilted words morphed around the static in his vocalizer. Hissing out words between his own denta. His lubricant dribbles down your thighs, spike leaking transfluid before it was even inside you. With the girth of his spike you're surprised anything is slipping out at all, chubby segments wider around than any of the toys you have available. Swerve is still tripping over himself, hips giving abbreviated thrusts despite his attempts to control himself, "Sorry, sorry! I'm sorry, I- Primus, I should stop talking. You just look so good. You're so beautiful..."

His words trail off in an exasperated, humorless laugh, as if the sound was shocked out of him. A punch to the gut that has him blurting out the first sound that can aid him. You clench tighter around him at his praise, blood boiling hot and itching under your skin. You want to demand he start moving, but more than anything you want him to keep talking. With his spike pressed inside you, Swerve's words alone could get you there, your own muscles working you to orgasm with his compliments. Your fingers dig into the fitted sheet on your berth, mouth slack and gasping like a fish. Drool wets the corner of your lip, tongue useless, but you push back into his hips at his forced silence, his bitter anxiety bubbling to the surface.

"Keep going, Swerve. Keep going," Your words are little more than soft words, no mustering of heat or urgency to your words. Gentle and modest as you ever are despite the fact you desperately need him now. "Please keep talking, keep moving. Swerve- Anything, please!" His body gives a sudden, harsh jolt at your pleading. Hips taking a mind of their own in a way his conscious processor can't possibly control. Moans tumble from his vocalizer, words a slurry.

"You look so sweet taking my spike. Is that weird? S-sorry, I- Primus, I didn't think you'd let me do this," His thrusting is rhythmless and erratic, a mech of little self-control and discipline, but he blessedly puts the bulk of his weight into fucking you. "I want you, I want you so bad."

You float on his words, sweet praise, as he fucks you into your own berth. Happy to lay and take all of his force and all the words he wouldn't have the guts to say anywhere but here.

#i leave you with a sudden end bc i have to MOVE ON IM SORRY #you both nut the end goodnight #asks #txt #transformers #reader insert #reader imagine #transformers idw #tf idw #transformers mtmte #tf mtmte #smut #valveplug #tf swerve #swerve #mtmte swerve #idw swerve

[moriahwritez]

Braiding Jinx hair 💙

Requested from @kitkaaz

Summary: You were babysitting Jinx (since Silco; her father had meetings to go, so instead you stay the night doing her hair until he comes back).

Warnings: (None) *Only care and treatment*

Anyone’s allow to read this (This is all for enjoyment) Pls enjoy!!

-Also, relaxing music is so helpful while reading this

-(Can search up Cleancore music on yt.)

Jinx in her meantime was working on gadgets; any other tools she uses in her privacy hideout. She’s listening to her loud music ,while being her own self, not noticing a person was behind her trying to get her attention. “Um Jinx…” you tried waving her but she was focusing on her thing. You tried tapping on her shoulder but that didn’t help either. So when her record player turned off itself, Jinx spins around and jumps to see you stand there. “Whew! Jeez, you couldn’t wait until I was done, y/n.” You giggle at her words. “My bad about that. Silco told me to come by and spend time with you while he’s away. He just have business to take care of.” You wasn’t trying to have her mood change after saying that. You could tell Jinx frown but you did your best to cheer her up. “What if I could braid your hair as a special treat?” You smile at her. Jinx glance back at you looking through you with her goggles. “I guess so…sure why not.” You order her to sit down on the floor and so she did. Jinx sat down as if she was as like a small child looking innocent. She giggle slightly which made you did along. Then Jinx took off her goggles and waited for you to unbraid two of her ponytails.

You did so by gently taking off the yellow rubber bands she had on her hair. And carefully start unwrapping each braid Jinx had all the way down to the top of her head. You hum while doing the work process. It felt like music in your ears, taking your sweet time admiring how beautiful is her blue hair. It was somehow quiet, although you hear Jinx singing a random song in her happy mood, you went on unbraiding still, making her hair fall slowly downwards behind her back after you finally was able to get the braids all off. Jinx hair was vivid and so blue as the sea ocean or the clear blue sky. It’s like if she was a mermaid with her hair floating around her. Jinx was enjoying the feeling with you, doing her hair. It felt unfamiliar to her as a sort of motherly kind feeling (which she never had that moment before).

While figuring out what to do with her hair again, you decided to drag her towards a sink you could find and brought out Jinx favorite soap. “Noooo” Jinx groans not wanting to get her hair wash. You had to anyway cuz surely Jinx had been scratching her hair most often. Even Silco told you about that. You continue to pamper her on what was Jinx given. Turning on the sink, you put Jinx hair down and start washing her hair in bubbly soap. The water was comforting to jinx with soothing soft texture in her scalp. Jinx felt relaxed and carefree, able to let go of things she was thinking of the back of her head. The things that gave her flashbacks, the memories she still remember. But the feeling of her hair getting cleaned, makes it way easier.

After that nice moment, you dry up her hair with a towel, blow drying it and then begin combing a brush Jinx had in her dresser (since you forgot to bring a lot of the stuff for her hair). Which gentle strokes on combing her blue hair was given a refreshed start. Jinx never had her hair done all the time, so you let her know that you would come to teach her after two months. You continue on combing it out, massaging her hair and releasing any knots Jinx had hidden inside her hair. Jinx never like to untangle some because how hurt it can be. Jinx did her best to sit still and not move a lot because she hates having her hair untangled. You comfort her to keep sitting still and you’ll be done in no time. Through the process, of Jinx hair getting washed, brushed and combed out, finally you start of styling up a cute hairstyle. You let Jinx pick out a hairstyle which was (towards the end)

You gave the hair Jinx chooses of a nice touch to her overall look. Decided it was best to make it look like the image, you start back sectioning out on two part of her hair and then twisted each of her hair to a braid, adding cute beads and then putting colorful hairpins on her bangs. A while of doing that, Jinx look at herself in the reflection with her eyes wide. She was adorable like a doll wearing cute ribbons. Her expression softens a bit, finding out how lovely she turned out. Jinx gave you a squeeze jumping up and down on how excited she was. You totally forgot how energetic she was. She thank you and got back on spinning her favorite chair again and continue on more of her gadgets while you just stand there, watching her from behind and smiling warmly at her.

(And this her hairstyle)

I’m glad I ended up doing something through my lazy and long ass morning and noon before heading out to work at the gym, gaining on muscles myself. Have a wonderful rest of your day and new year. I’ll come back to do more fanfics on her more and others . lmk other request. Much love🦋

#arcane #arcane fanfiction #jinx arcane #arcane jinx #jinx #jinx league of legends #arcane fanfic #comfort fanfic #jinx fanfic #jinx supremacy #jinx request #cute #cute fanfic #arcane league of legends #arcane lol

[pedrito-friskito]

I’m here to (lovingly) bombard you on your sleepover Saturday and request any and all Oberyn thoughts you have floating around in your brain (or really any GoT thoughts in general) <3 <3

scout my darling my angel my sweet game of thrones confidante 💙

I’m so sorry this took me so long 😫

truthfully, I ALWAYS have oberyn martell on the brain. I got bit by the fic bug and this man straight up set up shop in the back of my head and kicked his feet up. he ain’t going ANYWHERE FAST, and thirteen Game of Thrones Wiki tabs I have open right now aren’t either.

I seriously wasn’t lying when I said I planned out the first ten chapters of an Oberyn x female!OC fic. and there’s more plot after that, I just haven’t fleshed out actual chapters past those ten.

SO. that being said, I thought I’d share a snippet! my plan is to start posting in the new year, I wanna get at least 5-6 chapters written before it starts going up, but a saucy sneak peek under the cut! (pls tell me your thots on it 👀)

“Would you visit?” you ask, blinking slow. You’re dead on your feet, nearly asleep as Oberyn turns to stand in front of you, his hand curling down your forearm and around your wrist lightly. “King’s Landing.”

“If it means seeing you, little star,” he murmurs, and his other hand comes up under your chin, pinched softly between his thumb and forefinger, “nothing would keep me away.”

Your breath stutters in your throat as his thumb stretches up, drags along your lower lip. One of your hands floats up, curves around his elbow, your fingers digging into the fabric of his sleeve. “My prince…”

“Have you been kissed before, sweet thing?” he purrs, and his thumb dips lower, like velvet against your skin. “Tell me.”

“O-once,” you stutter out. “No, twice. When I was young, the first time, and…” You trail off, your eyes stuck to his mouth, as it curves into a grin.

“And the second?”

“My eighteenth nameday,” you murmur, mouth moving against his thumb. “One of my brother’s friends.”

“Did he kiss you properly?” he asks, and your brow creases.

“Properly?” you repeat.

“Properly,” he breathes, and then his lips meet yours.

It’s soft, and slow. His grip on your chin doesn’t falter, and his other hand tugs you closer. You don’t know what to do with your hands anymore, but as he pulls you into him, they fall to his chest, curl in the silky fabric, hold him in place. He kisses your bottom lip first, letting his teeth scrape lightly against your flesh. It makes something bubble up into your chest, warm and heady like a heavy sip of wine. Then he moves upward, caressing your upper lip, giving you access to his bottom one, and you follow his lead, nipping at it with your teeth, drinking down the taste of Oberyn Martell. 

He’s warm, the hand at your wrist moving to the small of your back again, pressing you into him much like he had on the dance floor. You want to bury yourself in the kiss, that delicious feeling he’s sparked crawling up your chest, spreading through your limbs and making them tingle. You hold onto him tighter, sighing into him deeply as his tongue pokes past your teeth. It makes your toes curl in your shoes.

You’re breathless as he pulls away, a broad grin on his lips that you want to kiss away. You find yourself chasing his mouth, leaning in for more, but he only gives you one more sweet peck, another to your cheek, then your forehead. Still, you crave more.

“Was that proper?” you ask, licking the taste of him from your lips. You feel almost drunk, like you’d drank too much wine; you swear you only had two cups.

“Indeed, little star,” he replies, his hand now cupping your cheek, the other resting at your waist. “That’s how you ought to be kissed.” He gives you another quick kiss, like he can’t help himself. “From this day, until the end of your days.”

You can’t decide on words, just offering him a bleary eyed smile as he brushes the hair from your face, reaches for the handle of the door. “Right,” you remember, finding your voice. “Bed. Sleep.”

Oberyn chuckles, pushing the door open. He reaches for your hand, squeezes your fingers, lifts your knuckles to his mouth. “Sleep well,” he tells you, speaking against your skin. “I will see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, my Prince,” you reply, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip, chasing the ghost of the kiss he’d given you.

“Goodnight, my little star.”

#sleepover saturday #my fics #oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell fic #oberyn martell smut #oberyn martell angst #oberyn x you #oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x female reader #oberyn martell fanfic #the face that launched 1000 ships

[sebastiansluts]

Part 3 to this pls

He pours it in reader and drinks it while eating her out🥵

Bucky Barnes x Reader; dub!con, step siblings, beer in vagina, f receiving oral sex, overstimulation, forced orgasms

ANY HATE WILL BE DELETED THIS IS A JUDGEMENT FREE ZONE DON’T LIKE, DON’T INTERACT; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+

"You know, I bet if I drink this fast enough, it'll stay cold," Bucky said casually, taking a drink from the beer he had gotten. You were still collapsed on the bed, pussy gaping and sore from your punishment.

"Spread your legs," Bucky ordered, shoving them apart when you didn't move fast enough. You expected to feel the bottle sliding into you, what you didn't expect was that it would be so narrow, or the bubbling liquid that followed.

You tried to shoot off the bed but Bucky held you down tightly, sitting on your legs, arm across your chest. "Ah, ah, little sis, don't want to make a mess, do we?" You huffed, relaxing back into the bed as Bucky let up, moving so he was positioned between your legs.

"There we go, empty. Now clench until I tell you to stop," Bucky demanded, pulling the bottle out quickly. You hurriedly clenched, really not wanting to make a mess, and Bucky tossed the bottle to the floor, putting his mouth at your pussy. "Okay, release," he said, lips pressed yours down there.

You relaxed and felt the beer start trickling out as Bucky licked up your folds, drinking it and your wetness down. He drank like he was parched, sucking and gulping it down, gasping for breath. As the beer stopped flowing so fast, he slowed down, licking into you more, drawing it back out, making you pulse as he licked your walls.

"B-Bucky, gonna come," you gasped, riding his face. He buried his face even deeper, nose bumping your clit, making you come, squirting your juices and beer straight into his waiting mouth.

Bucky didn't let up, keeping you squirting until he couldn't taste the beer anymore only you. You were so for gone by that point, floating in a haze of bliss, disconnected from your body.

Bucky crawled up your body, pulling you into him, waiting til you came back to yourself. "Good girl, little sis."

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #smut #no y/n

[libartz]

Day 9 of Downpour

Rivulet puts the ball in the goal and suddenly the route is over. Artificer achieves her goal and suddenly the route is over.

Rivulet

Now that I have the rarefactor cell, it's holding it on the main menu instead of the bubble plant! Such a cool detail

I went from Chimney Canopy down to Industrial Complex, and decided to check out the Pipeyard. I ended up finding a new gate from within the region, but it was to Sky Islands which is the opposite direction to where I wanted to be, so when I died I went elsewhere and found a gate to the...subterranean...ew

Shelter failures still happen even in this long-cycled state. Everything was underground so nothing much happened from the intermittent rain other than screen shaking. I do know there is a gate to Shoreline from it, which I went up to and now I'm in Shoreline. There are some long greeny water lizards in the water parts of pipeyard and subterranean, and some in shoreline.

I apparently can't just give Moon the thing, I have to go into her new region to activate it -_- this is gonna be annoying

Actually no I like this region it's cool. It kind of reminds me of subnautica

The new region contains at least one giant jellyfish. There's a lot of swimming, but activating the cell makes it superspeedy and fun.

There was a leviathan but the cell had run out so it chomped me and I died, but the cell exploded with a round screen-warpy effect and killed it! I didn't know they could die

I left the game to write this down and when I came back it had floated in such a way that it was completely straight and had straight fins almost like T-posing

I got the cell to the room, and when everything activated I got whooshed out of the area by water and ended up somewhere snowy. It has Aether Ridge vibes. It *almost* makes me want to try that region again except that said region is extremely aggravating.

Moon is saved! She's starting repairs, and broadcast to Pebbles at the end and I was nearly crying tears. I know pebs is dying but pls pls pls let him reply...

He didn't reply, but the ending art showed him still alive and getting a message. Yay he knows it wasn't in vain!

And now the route is over and the menu art is of Moon and Rivulet chilling and it's adorable. I wonder where Rivulet came from. It must have come from someone, since it started with a pearl

Artificer

So I found a scavenger leader, which I assume I'm meant to kill. It's under a big dome on top of the house of braids area. It's kind of hard, especially given once I aggro it the other scavs in the area come to help fight me. I died loads of times, and killed it mostly out of luck. If I had to get past the other scavs and sleep to save the death I would've been so mad, but fortunately no, it just fades like meeting an echo. The leader has 'monk' level karma from holding it.

After it faded to the karma screen, Artificer lost the higher karma levels I gained from echoes and went back to just wrath, and there was a cutscene where she fought all the watching scavs and claimed its mask and now the route is over??? I had a orange pearl I wanted to show to pebs but I guess I can't do that now

The 'game completed' screen for the route is her wearing the mask and looking v scray, rather than a ghost like the others.

I want to do this again and try actually ascending. The Echo implied that there might be a way to turn away from the path of endless rage, which I assume is by finding all the other echoes. I never even tried to get to Moon, which is probably going to be very different from normal.

#downpour diaries #rain world #rain world downpour #downpour spoilers

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

it’s like heaven’s song to me

proposal headcanons ig 

also the reader is gender neutral, but the twst boy is the one proposing btw (if ur gonna be weird abt the gender shit, pls get the fuck out of my account)

Vil proposes twice to you. The first proposal to you is the real one, the one that he’s been planning forever for, the one where he truly spills his heart about how he wants to spend his entire life with you, the one where the man you see in front of you is Vil Schoenheit himself. Not the haughty model, not the talented actor, not the perfectionist influencer, but the dear person that you fell for and eagerly pledge your own never ending loyalty to.

His real proposal comes to you after a night out at the theater with you. He lets you choose the film, naturally, and he can’t help but laugh a little when you choose one with him in the starring lead as if it were the most absolute thing in the world. The entire time the movie runs, his gaze isn’t on the screen, but rather, it’s on you. He observes you, every curve and dip of your face, your parted lips as you take in the wonder of him playing his brilliant persona on the reflected screen, the years of his future he can envision with you at his side.

The second proposal is a proposal for the public, one that his work hounds him into doing. He makes sure that you’re comfortable with such a grand public gesture, and you can’t help but be tickled a little at the thought of declaring your love for the entire world. Vil is admittedly not as fond of the idea, but an idealistic part of his heart does flutter a little at the thought of proposing to you once again and hearing you accept him once more.

Of course, you’ll have to go through two weddings with him in the same manner: a quiet one for your real wedding and a much more grander one for PR reasons. Each one will be just as romantic as the other, and when you gaze at Vil, dressed finely before you as your groom, smiling from ear-to-ear with nothing but the purest form of love welling up in his violet eyes, it’s clear that nothing but marital bliss awaits you within the heaven you found in his arms.

“I promise to make you happy, my darling. I’ll have it so that not a single frown appears on your face or a shadow of doubt flicker across your eyes. Let’s do our best together, my dearest love.”

For someone who talks big, proposals are still a daunting task for Ace. He has no doubt that you’re the one he wants to marry, you’re the one he wants to dedicate himself to, you’re the one he wants to grow old and wrinkly with. But despite that certainty, he still spends a great amount of time painstakingly reviewing everything he wants to do. From picking out a gorgeous ring to practicing what he’s going to say to Deuce and to his reflection in the mirror (to the point that Deuce throws a pillow at him whenever Ace asks him to practice together), he wants each moment to be as magical for you as it was for him.

Ace proposes at the most romantic place he can think of: the planetarium. He thinks there’s something fitting about how he can picture the entire universe whenever you hold his hand, and he thinks there’s something wonderful about how he can see millions of stars and constellations reflected in your shining eyes whenever his gaze meets yours. With a pounding heart and an excited mind, he readies himself to pop the big question.

Once the lights dim and all you can feel is his breathing next to you, the faux stars and planets begin to float and rise up like bubbles within the planetarium. Ace has already prepared it so that it’s just the two of you, and when your vision is filled with nothing but the twinkling galaxies and planetary systems of eternity above your head, Ace gets down on one knee and asks you the question that’s been stuck in his throat ever since the day he fell in love with you.

Your wedding will be made out of the same material of your sweetest dreams. Ace works so hard to make sure that you enjoy every second of it. And every moment of it is indeed like a fairy tale come to life, from the beginning all the way until the two of you are stumbling out of the wedding venue with makeup, clothes, and hair slightly undone, ready to head to both your honeymoon and another chapter, surely the first of many, in your lives together.

“I’ve liked you a real long time, you know that right? I hope you feel the same. So... Let’s cut the weird flowery talk, and get straight to the point. Marry me!”

Rook loves the thrill of everything beautiful, and what better way to celebrate beauty than through the declaration of truest love? Using his beloved bow and arrow, the huntsman leaves a letter imploring you to meet him within the deepest heart of the forest, where the two of you can spend your time together unbothered and undisturbed from the rest of the world, as the two of you take the next and most precarious step in your relationship. His penmanship has evolved, but the love he holds for you remains the same, weaving verses of breathtaking poetry to try and convey his heart the best he can.

Rook proposes in a clearing in the woods, where the birds and flowers and Mother Nature herself can come and celebrate in your joyous union. Rook can’t think of a more beautiful and romantic place to ask you for your hand, other than taking you back to your roots and admiring how much love the world has to offer. He wants to take that love and reflect it back onto you, vowing to give you a marital life that makes your heart well up with affection and joy.

Contrary to expectation, Rook holds himself back from whipping out a lengthy speech. He keeps it curt and genuine, only letting the most sincere words of love slip past his lips. You can see yourself reflected in his earnest eyes, as he holds out a ring from one knee, and in that moment, you know that there’s no one else in the world who could see the world as Rook does, love the world as Rook does, and embrace you all the same, with only gratitude and a zeal for even more of that same essence of life that keeps him going day after day.

The wedding is affectionate and hearty, with him extolling everything beautiful he sees. When he takes your hand at the altar and whispers his vows, the ultimate declaration of love that he holds for you, transitioning from a mere lover to your soulmate, you’re sure that the happy ending so many people have dreamed of exists right before your very eyes. And when Rook leans in to capture a kiss from your chaste lips, you seal your fate within his trusting hands and let yourself fall not from grace, but into the depths of an indescribable love that only someone as creative and mysterious as Rook could grant you.

“Mon ange... Let us fly away, like a pair of lovebirds, high into the sky together. Let me steal you away, now and forevermore, as a wedded pair until the day we part from this world for good.”

Love feels so close yet so far from Cater, and it seems surreal to him that the day he would propose would even come. He’s held his fears and his worries about finding love, but when you’ve waited for him, for months and for years, for him to finally open his heart up and accept the fact that he’s deserving of the same happiness that he’s enviously watched others pursue, Cater comes to terms with the fact that he wants to spend his life with nobody else but you.

Cater wants to be himself when he proposes to you, rather than any of the playful masks he’s so expertly crafted over the years. So he resolves to be vulnerable and to bear himself before you, and when he prepares to propose, he decides on taking you out to the place where he first confessed to you and first tasted what love was truly like: a sweetness spreading on the tip of his tongue, the subtle heat flashing beneath his cheeks, a tingling in the crevices of his chest that left him feeling so meek yet confident all at the same time.

He proposes to you shyly, meeting your eyes with watering eyes and telling you that he wants nothing more than to make you as happy as he’s made him. It’s a simple proposal, completely unlike the excessive shows of adoration you’re accustomed to from Cater, but it’s a gesture that conveys to you how serious and how dedicated he is about taking this next step, and he’s resolved to do nothing except devote himself into trusting you and trusting the love he’s steadily built up over a long, long time.

Your wedding to Cater is the sort of heartwarming union that Cater’s longed for for as far as he can remember, and when he offers his arm for you to take, he can’t help but thank whatever divine being watches over him for giving him a chance to fall in love both with you, but with life again. Even after the wedding is over and the two of you prepare to greet a new chapter of your lives, Cater promises to never lose this feeling of hope that you’ve given him by entrusting him with your hand in marriage, and he never ever wants to lose the feeling of your warm smile and your sweet kisses embedded deeply into his soul.

“I’ve loved you for a long time, longer than I ever realized. I’ve only ever wanted you, and you’re the only one I could see myself loving until the day I die. I love you, truly, from the bottom of my heart. Will you marry me?”

x

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #vil schoenheit #ace trappola #rook hunt #cater diamond #x reader #my writing #weirdos dni ill literally destroy you #wedding fever huh.... #um so about cater (tucks hair behind ear) #im sorry for writing so much abt caykun (no im not) #you will eat the food i serve you and you will enjoy it #im done being nice #also dont ask for other characters bc i alr said im not taking requests u fucks

[fairyaali]

Hi! Could I please request a fluffy chat noir fic? Maybe where he and the reader are cuddling and he starts purring and the reader teases him and thinks it’s adorable? Tyyy -Bhad Bleep

Hello Bhad Bleep ! <3 I hope that you enjoy what I wrote for u bb uwu. Also i hope that it’s fluffy enough too >.< anyways, enjoy !

Pairing: Chat Noir X Reader

Warnings: just some swearing.

Tags: Chat is tired pls, purring ;), He’s just adorable tbh. 

Candles, homemade cookies, pillows, a red picnic blanket, bubble milk tea and soft music playing in the background while you gazed at a duck floating on the lake with the moonlight shimmering over it.

He was always late so you’re used to this but for some reason you couldn’t help but feel a slight anger overcome you.

The only thing that was missing was him.

Your boyfriend, Chat noir.

Or maybe it was worry because usually when he’s this late it meant that something bad has happened.

You sighed to yourself and poked a hole in the plastic lid of your bubble tea, sipping it and chewing on the soft, jelly like tapioca.

You shook your head.

No, he could take care of himself.

It really sucked because you had no way of contacting him because you simply couldn’t know anything about his real identity.

Nonetheless, you trusted him with your whole heart. You knew he would come soon.

“Mon ange, sorry im late.”

You almost ended up choking on the tapioca pearl.

Coughing, you looked up at him and he widened his eyes walking to you and rubbing your back.

“Chat…You’re hurt.” You whisper, a frown evident on your face but your eyes filled with worry.

You looked at him, he had a bruise on his cheek and his suit had a cut on his right bicep.

Your coughing eased and you lifted a hand to brush your thumb over the bruise.

He holds your hand against his cheek and gives you a small smile.

“You should’ve seen the other guy.” He winks and you and it makes you chuckle.

He always had to try and make things less serious than they were because he hated seeing you frown.

“Do you want me to pack up everything and go home so you can rest?” You ask.

He quickly shakes his head.

“That wont be necessary beautiful, especially when I haven’t even had one of your famous homemade cookies!” He pulls you up on his lap quickly, making you yelp in surprise but ultimately giggle.

“I’m sorry I came late Ma belle.” He whispers and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

He kisses you softly and you close your eyes, leaning more into the kiss and wrapping your arms around his neck for support.

You pull away and look into his bright green eyes, half lidded but full of love.

“darling…” He says and lifts your chin up to make you look at him. “You know I can-“

You sigh and shake your head.

“Please Chat, I was just worried about you. It’s hard when I can’t even contact you, you know.” You huff and cross your arms over your chest, looking down.

“Can’t give me any personal information because my identity must remain a secret for now.” You continue for him. “Yeah I know. I just care about you.” You murmur.

He lets out a breathy laugh and shakes his head. “Nothing’s going to happen to me babe.” He says and looks at you straight in the eyes. “Plus, you’re dating one of Paris’ most respected, handsome, strongest, superheroes. Villains aint got shit on me.” He says proudly, placing a hand on his chest.

You roll your eyes playfully and laugh.

“I got your favourite by the way.” You smirk and move down from his lap to get the drink. “Honeydew bubble milk tea!” You exclaim and he gasps grabbing the drink from your hand, a huge grin on his face.

“Please don’t ever say that again.” You say.

“Thank you Mon ange!” He says and quickly kisses your cheek before popping the straw through the lid, taking a long sip.

His eyes roll to the back of his head and he hums in pleasure. “This shit bussin’” He says and you close your eyes, sighing while pinching the bridge of your nose.

He snorts and puts the bubble tea down.

“can i?” He asks while pointing to your lap.

“I got perfectly good pillows and you still want to use my thighs to rest your head?” You say and quirk an eyebrow up.

He smirks and nods and you could already tell what’s going on in his head.

“Come on kitty.” You say and chuckle at him as he scoots over and rests his head on your lap.

You sigh happily as you look at him.

You longed for times like these with him, it was always your favourite time of the day.

He was a breath of fresh air, a distraction, your paradise.

You start playing with his hair, letting the soft blonde locks run through your fingers.

You wondered what he did in his personal life.

From what you could tell, he was gorgeous enough to be a model.

He had the physique, soft skin and luscious hair.

Or maybe he’s a pianist.

His fingers were long and delicate and he mentioned that he knew how to play so maybe it was his profession.

Maybe he fences.

You saw the way he fights. He keeps his back straight, he’s observant and very good when it comes to reflexes.

You may not know these things but you were at peace with knowing that you fell in love with him because of who he truly his.

You hoped you’d see what he really looked like underneath the mask one day though.

You looked at him and widened his eyes and he shot his eyes open.

Your thoughts were cut off when you felt vibrations come from the superhero laying on your lap.

He was purring.

“Did you just..” You trail off and you can see his cheeks glow red.

“No- I-It was probably the wind.” He chuckles nervously and gulps.

You giggled at him and he nuzzles his face in your hand.

You notice that your hand was right behind his ear this time so you start to gently scratch it again.

His eyes close, his lips part and vibrations emerge from his throat.

This was adorable. Just like a little kitty.

He stops nuzzling you and his purrs get softer, his eyes were still closed.

He was probably too happy and blissful to even care about the fact that he was purring anymore.

Or maybe he was so tired that this was the only way he truly felt at peace.

“Chat?” You whispered. No response.

He was asleep.

You smiled to yourself.

Maybe this was all that you ever really needed in life.

He made you feel whole, even if there was a part of him that was missing.

You hoped that you’d do the same.

#chat noir #chat noir x reader #mlb #miraculous ladybug #adrien x reader #adrien agreste #cat noir

[tobesolonely]

queen anne’s coffee

A/N: hello everyone! I am not D/deaf or Hard of Hearing. However, this was requested more than once I wanted to do my best to provide. In this story, Y/N is a part of the Deaf community. if I have misrepresented the Deaf community in any way or wrote something inaccurate or offensive, then please DO NOT hesitate to let me know (respectfully, of course!) i wanted to fulfill this person’s request and be as inclusive as i could, as i don’t typically see stories with a Deaf!reader. shes short and sweet but i hope you all enjoy anyway! as always, feedback is very much welcomed and appreciated! :)

Summary: Y/N visits Harry’s coffee shop every Tuesday and Thursday and always orders the same thing. Harry HAS to get to know her!!!

word count: ~1.7k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Every Tuesday and Thursday at exactly 3:50 PM, Y/N placed an online order that consisted of an iced chai tea latte with oat milk and a butter croissant from Harry’s coffee shop, Queen Anne’s Coffee.

Y/N never forgot to add, “warmed up pls! thank you :)” in the section for comments, and she always tipped. She would then come into Harry’s shop approximately ten minutes later, walk up to the ‘pickup’ counter, grab her items, smile at Harry, and promptly leave. Harry never even so much as said hello to her, but he was irrevocably captivated––even if she was a complete stranger.

Harry decided that when Y/N came in today for her usual, he’d finally talk to her.

Business had been unusually slow for a Thursday afternoon but Harry didn’t mind–when Y/N came in, he’d be able to have a proper chat with her without having to rush the conversation along to help other customers. His gaze kept floating up to the cat-shaped clock hanging above the door, anxiously awaiting 3:50 PM when Y/N’s order would come through on the iPad and he got to read the words, “warmed up pls! thank you :)”

Harry didn’t know why he was so nervous to speak to her. As the owner of his very own coffee shop (and it’s only employee), he got to know the people who came in regularly well, even developing genuine friendships with some. It bothered Harry that this beautiful person gave him business two days a week and the only thing he knew about her was her name, which is only because he can see it when she places her order online.

When the iPad Harry keeps plugged up atop the counter chimes, he doesn’t even have to glance at it to know it was Y/N but he does anyway, feelings of excitement bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He was finally going to talk to her! Harry contemplates scribbling his number on the side of her cup as he’s writing her name but decides against it, not wanting to be too forward before they even formally meet.

When Y/N comes in ten minutes later, Harry can immediately sense something is wrong. She hardly looks up once as she shuffles from the door to the counter, hoodie pulled up and drawn tight over her head.

“Are you okay?”

Y/N doesn’t look up or even acknowledge the fact that Harry spoke. Even though there’s only two other people in the shop besides them, Harry figures she might think he was talking to someone else and addresses her by name.

“Y/N?”

She still doesn’t address Harry as she gives him a small smile before hurriedly exiting the shop, the bell above the door signaling her exit.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

When Tuesday comes, Harry’s out of bed before his alarm jolts him from his dreams.

He thought about Y/N all weekend as he impatiently awaited Tuesday’s arrival, excited over the prospect of finally seeing her again. He hoped she was doing better today than she was last week, and he really hoped she was in the mood to chat with him today.

Harry’s grateful the shop is busy today. It helps to keep his mind off of Y/N, and his eyes off the clock. When the iPad chimes at 3:50 on the dot, Harry decides he’ll wait until she comes in to prepare her order. It didn’t take him over two minutes, anyway. He figures this will give him a bit more time to chat with her, at least say hello and see if she’s doing better.

Much to his pleasure, Y/N has a big smile on her face when she bursts through the door ten minutes later. She floats to the pickup counter, then furrows her eyebrows in confusion as she looks up at Harry.

“Sorry, I’m working on your order right now,” Harry grabs a purple marker off the counter, scribbling Y/N’s name on the cup used for iced drinks. “How’s your day so far?”

Harry watches as Y/N cocks her head to the side in confusion, then pulls her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. She quickly types something before holding her phone out for Harry to take.

“I can’t hear you! I’m Deaf.”

A look of realization floods Harry’s face as he reads what she said. He now understood why Y/N didn’t answer him when he tried speaking to her last week, and he’s secretly relieved that she wasn’t ignoring him because she hated him or anything like that.

“I know a bit of sign!” Harry types before handing Y/N back her phone. He watches as her eyes skim his words and she looks up, a toothy grin plastered on her face.

“Great! This is much faster.” Her hands move quickly as she signs. “Did my order work or not? Wi-Fi is bad at home today.”

Harry realizes he doesn’t know as much sign language as he thought he did.

“OK. I am rusty.”

Y/N smiles at this and pulls her phone back out, typing what she just signed to him before passing it back to him. A look of realization floods Harry’s face as he learns she was just asking if her order came through alright, seeing as it was not yet ready. Too embarrassed to tell her he intentionally waited until she arrived to prepare her order, he just nods.

“I’ll have it ready in no more than two minutes… and refund you, too. I’m sorry for the wait.” Harry looks up at Y/N as he passes the phone to her, eyes not leaving her face as he tries to gauge her reaction.

“No!” Her head shakes as she signs. “Happy to pay. Thank you.”

Harry understands Y/N but refunds her, anyway.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“Why do you always come Tuesday and Thursday? Same time?”

“Exams every Tuesday and Thursday.” The look of obvious dissatisfaction on Y/N’s face makes Harry laugh. “Your chai and pastries cheer me up after.”

Harry’s face turns red at Y/N’s admittance, so he instead looks down, pretending he’s distracted by something on the iPad. He decides at that moment that he will no longer charge Y/N for her oat milk latte and croissant. She was a college student after all––if her financial situation was like Harry’s in any way when he was in college earning his business degree, it would probably be beneficial for her to save her money, anyhow.

Ever since Harry and Y/N’s first real interaction, Y/N had been coming into Queen Anne’s nearly every day, school supplies and laptop in tow. She always sat at the table closest to the front counter, directly in Harry’s line of vision so they could sign to each other.

Y/N provided Harry with some much needed (and enjoyed) company when business was slow, and she was helping him brush up on his sign language. Harry learned that Y/N is Deaf; her hearing is completely gone in her left ear and almost completely gone in the right. She’s the only person in her family who is Deaf. She also hated eggs, is lactose intolerant (hence the oat milk), has two older siblings, is a master’s student, and a plethora of other things that Harry had committed to memory.

“Thank you. I’m glad you enjoy.”  

“Who is A-N-N-E?”

Harry grins. “My mother. Back in London.”

Y/N’s eyes widen. “London? Amazing! You must have an accent.”

It dawns on Harry that Y/N has never heard his voice before. “Yes. Are you from here?” Y/N nods in response.

“Whole life. Small town, but it’s home.” Her pinched hand moves quickly from her mouth up to her ear.

“Sorry. What?”

“H-O-M-E.”

A look of realization floods Harry’s face as he nods in response, signaling for Y/N to give him a moment as the bell above the entrance jingles. It seems as if the few people who walk through the door act as a catalyst for others to enter, and soon Queen Anne’s is at maximum occupancy and Harry is trying to make several drinks at once while taking orders. He locks eyes with Y/N a few times and she gives him a sympathetic look, not able to do much to help him out.

Harry decides that once business dies back down, he’ll find out if Y/N is interested in a part-time job.

⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N was interested in a part-time job.

She was a fast learner and a hard worker. Harry was more than delighted to show her how to make every drink on the menu, and consume her failed attempts. It was nice having someone else behind the counter with him––he wished he’d gone about hiring someone to help him much sooner, but he was glad to now have Y/N by his side.

“So much chai! I thought only I drank this stuff.”

Harry’s gaze lingers on Y/N for a beat too long, causing her to shift slightly. Harry’s hand moves to scratch the back of his neck. “Yes. I like chai. With milk.” His hand forms a ‘C’ then closes to form an ‘S’ twice for the word “milk”.

“Regular?” One of Y/N’s eyebrows raises as she asks her question, setting a hot chai latte atop the “pickup” counter.

“S-O-Y.”

Y/N lets out a quiet snort of laughter as she shakes her head. It was the first time Harry ever made her laugh out loud. After hearing her laugh once, he never wanted to stop––it was music to his ears. “Not surprised!”

Harry’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Why?” His eyes remain on Y/N as she walks around the small area, cleaning up a small coffee spill she had earlier.

“You just are a S-O-Y boy, H. My S-O-Y boy!”

Harry’s cheeks immediately turn pink as they did the first time Y/N said something that flustered him, but he doesn’t look away.

“You’re my O-A-T girl.”

⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Thank you everyone for reading!!! This is only the beginning of Y/N and Harry I think <33

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles smut

[ohnococo]

All For You | Reiner Braun x Reader

Summary: You and Reiner have sex for the first time.

Notes: Post time-jump, though there’s not even the tiniest bit of plot in this porn. Pls be gentle, it’s my first time writing in this fandom and I just want to take care of Reiner (don’t we all tho?)

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Post time skip, PWP, Vaginal Sex, Creampie

NSFW/18+ ONLY Under the cut!

You feel it as you ease down onto Reiner, his every muscle is tensed beneath you. Each slow inch deeper and deeper into your warmth has him shuddering and expelling jagged breaths as though they were being forced from him. You can see from the way his eyes try desperately to focus on you and how he clenches and unclenches the sheets with your every move, that everything in his body is telling him to thrust. To grab you by your hips and pull you down onto him, fast and hard, fast enough to break you, fast enough to break him, and with enough intensity to have you both fused together by your jagged ends. He resists, brain always conquering heart, and lets you sink down slower and slower still. When you finally settle down against his hips, clenching around the expanse too wide for your walls to do much more than grip at weakly, he lets out a drawn out groan, a sound not unlike a final breath. As you begin rocking on his cock, adjusting, squirming, Reiner smooths his hands across the cool sheets as if searching - but forcing himself to only feel around blindly in the same small circle.

“You can touch me, Reiner.”

He blinks away the haze clouding his vision, trying his hardest to focus on your sweet face as he considers his options and looks almost worried for a moment.

You know exactly where his mind is at and meet him halfway. “You can’t hurt me, I promise.”

Tentative hands slide from the sheets to meet your knees and you take the final step of pulling them up to your hips where he squeezes lightly. His grip tightens reflexively when you slide up his length slowly, as high as your range of motion - limited by the size of the man you were sitting atop - will allow. Once you sink back down onto him he lets out another low groan, as if your weight were instead on his chest, pushing the air from him. You establish a rhythm, and despite the large hands gripping you there is no attempt to change it, so you continue to move faster and harder down onto him. Each time you pick up your pace his hands have to readjust from trembling against your skin, as if he might have to force them back to his sides, to gripping you tightly as if you might float away and deny him your warm embrace.

You relish in the small noises bubbling up from his swollen lips, music to your ears as you commit the dark blush across his cheeks to your memory. He sounds almost as if it’s a shock to his system every time he’s buried fully inside of you, filling you to the brim, his breaths becoming quieter and quieter. Eventually all you can hear over the lewd sounds of engulfing his cock with your wetness is the small choked groans stuck in his throat as he stares in awe at where the two of you meet.

“Breathe, baby, you’ve gotta breathe.”

It’s as if he’d needed permission all along, the way he begins taking deep breaths, chest shaking, stomach twitching, and then releases all of his pent up energy in a long broken whine. With his laboured breaths and glassy eyes, it occurs to you that you’d love nothing more than to make him try and speak for you through all of this.

“How does it feel, Reiner? Is it good?”

He pulls a trembling lip between his teeth, eyes darting up to meet yours, traveling up and down your jiggling body, then rolling into the back of his head as you clench around him with each drag up his throbbing length. He nods, though the movement is so small it’s barely perceptible.

“You’ve got to speak for me baby, let me know if i’m making it good enough for you.”

He shuts his eyes tightly and you allow it, knowing you may never get a coherent sentence out of him if you were to force him to watch you taking him. “It’s… of course it is… s’good. So good.” He ends his babbling with a deep a breathy sigh of your name and the way it makes you shiver on top of him, pussy fluttering as heat pools all the faster in your core, has him whispering your name again and again in search of that same reaction, until it’s too much for him to say even that.

You know you’re pushing yourself too far with a cock as big as Reiners, but you can’t help going faster, bringing yourself down onto him harder, anything to keep hearing the noises he’s making. Anything to make him open wide beneath you like you’d never seen before. You lean forward, bracing yourself on his broad chest, crouching so your weight is on your feet instead of your knees to give yourself that little bit more room to slide up until only the thick head of his cock is anchored inside of you only to slam back down hard and fast. You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a tinge of selfishness in the movement, loving the drag of his silky cock against the sweet spot inside of you, but nothing was more important to you in this moment than the sounds being ripped from Reiner. Deep moans punctuated by helpless whines as he emptied his lungs, followed by gasps of air inward bordering on little hiccups as he desperately tries to wrap his head around just how good you could make him feel.

You want to both be trapped in this moment forever, a blissful in between where nothing matters to one but what the other can give, but you know if you don’t keep control you’ll be giving out and spent long before he is.

“I need you, Reiner.”

The words have his eyes snapping open, and he tries his very best to focus on you, on the urgency in your voice. You know you can only keep his mind on track for moments at a time with the way you were about to milk him dry, but you too are falling into a state of delirium at the feel of him stretching you so well even as he lies doing nothing but twitching and whining beneath you. As the coil within you tightens, threatening to break and leave your words unsaid, you rush to give him the purpose he needs, lest he lie there all night heaving and moaning without the release you intended for him from the very start.

“Need you to fill me. Need you to cum for me.”

The haze clouding his eyes clears for only a moment as he very suddenly looks alert, almost alarmed. Alarmed that his body is acting on your command, not his, and that the orgasm coursing through him in white hot strides from his toes all the way up and into his tightening balls were for your sake, and yours alone. He groans, he whimpers, he cries, all movements that happen without his control as he fills you with all that he has to offer. In the end, it may have indeed been only for you as his heat flooding you seems to spread throughout your body as you clench and cum around him. You make as much of a mess of him as he does of you, your slick pouring down and pooling on his hips, and rock against him holding him deep as he will go as you ride out both of your orgasms. This is the bliss you’d always wanted him to have. This is only a piece of all the things he intends to give you.

#not sfw #aot fic #snk fanfic #reiner braun #reiner #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun x you #reiner x reader #reiner x you #pwp #aot pwp #aot smut #snk smut #aot fanfiction #my writing

[shorkbrian]

Shouto, but as a pleasure dom

(Warnings - overstim (like a LOT), dubcon/noncon (implied, but it’s there), penetration (oh shidd get it shouto), oral (heck he rlly be getting up in there) (and frick idk what else lmk if I missed sumn)

You barely even knew where you were.

A bed was beneath you, that was a fact you were confident in.

There was a fireplace in the room, wood crackling gently, firelight dancing shadows onto the ceiling, the ceiling your unfocused eyes were looking towards.

You were shivering, but not from cold. The room was warm, almost too warm, sweat on your temples, heat trapped in your stomach.

A hand was splayed on your stomach, slender, large. It was warm too, almost burning, matching the sizzling sensation beneath your skin.

It was holding you down, keeping you flush to the bed.

Shouto was kneeled between your legs, your lower half pulled to the edge of the bed. He had your legs over his shoulders, his warm palm smoothed over your stomach to keep you in place. His other hand was entwined with one of yours, grip icy, burning your fingers with cold.

His mouth was working at your cunt, relentless and excruciatingly pleasant, tongue quickly lapping at your folds, then swirling around your clit before dipping lower to plunge inside your entrance.

“Sho-tou, Sh-ah! Ah! Ohmygod wait, shout-O!”

No matter how you moved, his mouth followed you, sucking, pulling your pleasure from you. The man had already made you cum countless times, you couldn’t even remember at this point, body flushed and buzzing with overstimulation.

Still, the pleasure built up again, settling low in your stomach, your clit throbbing, tingling with each rapid flick of his tongue.

The sounds that were being made were absolutely filthy; wet smacks, sucking noises, slurping, lewd squelches and suckling as he worshiped your cunt with his tongue. It felt so good it hurt, making you cry, hips working desperately to pull away, even though there was no escape.

“Please, oh... It feels-feels-! It’s too much Shouto oh my gOD-!”

Another orgasm tore through your body, limbs convulsing, hand squeezing Shouto’s icy palm in a death grip as you wailed.

The man didn’t stop slurping at your cunt.

He was as he always is - steady, measured, relentless in pursuit of his goals.

And his goal right now was to make you cry and scream his name.

Another pass of his tongue, this time with it flattened out completely to drag slowly over your folds. The tip of his tongue hit your clit as he pulled back, and your legs jerked, a desperate whine bubbling out of your throat.

He dove back in after a quick breath, kissing around your lower lips, tongue flicking out to tease your sensitive, dripping hole. When he thrust it inside, you squeaked at the sensation, hips twitching. You could feel Shouto’s smile, feel the flash of his teeth pressed against your skin, the stretch of his cheeks.

Honestly, his determination was a bit frightening. You were sure your thighs were wrapped around his head tight enough to make it hard to move, yet the man worked with ease, drawing back to spit on your cunt, leaning close again to attack his mouth around your clit and suck.

Another orgasm had you thrashing in his hold, crying out, begging for Shouto to wait, stop, too much.

Pleasurable, painful minutes passed as he worked you up to cum again, pussy throbbing and soaked with slick and his saliva.

After making you cum again, Shouto finally relented, pulling away with a wet snack of his lips.

“You’re delectable. Wish you’d let me taste you more.” You both knew that he would take you whenever he saw fit, whether or not you were in the mood.

Most of the time, he was decent, listening when you said no, or told him not to touch.

Other days, he was akin to a bratty child, brow furrowing when you tried to refuse him, eyes hardening. He’d stride towards you with his long legs, and there was no escape. Those days, “no” wasn’t an appropriate answer.

Today was one of those days.

“Why do you taste so good.” He half-moaned, quickly diving back between your legs to give one last, messy lick.

“ShoUTO PLEASE!” You yelled, clit buzzing, skin burning with every sensation. Even his hand on your belly was too much.

“I’m sorry dear, I just can’t help myself sometimes.” He breathed, once again composed and poised as he kneeled between your legs.

Shouto let go of you hand, rising to his feet. The sight of his clothes form reminded you that your body was entirely bare. You probably looked a mess, hair disheveled, dried sweat sticking to your skin under new droplets, limbs trembling, body flushed.

Shouto began unbuttoning his shirt, eyes never once leaving you.

“Absolutely breathtaking.” He murmured, more to himself than you.

You were exhausted, couldn’t even hold yourself up. You let your legs drop, feet resting limply against the floor, body relaxing into the bed. You hoped with every fiber of your being that Shouto was undressing only to help you shower, then you could flop back into bed and sleep forever.

You knew that wasn’t going to happen - it never did.

His shirt came off, then his pants, and finally his boxers. You still shrank under his relentless gaze, and while you knew he was appraising you with love and wonder, your insecurities couldn’t help but rear their heads.

It was hard to listen to insecurities when Shouto was wringing orgasm after orgasm from your spent body. You suppose that’s why he’s like this.

The man had such a beautiful body, sticky legs, thick in build, but slender in their muscles appearance. A defined, softly muscled torso, and strong arms. His pretty face, always seemingly calm and passive, only changing when he was really upset, or lost in the throes of passion and pleasure. Shouto was pretty all over, really, with his smooth skin, manicured nails, the soft, silken strands of his dual-colored hair.

Even his cock was pretty, a soft pink color, thick, but not alarmingly so. Veins ran along the shaft, the glans defined and well-proportionaed compared to the rest of his length.

Shouto was pretty all over, and you felt woefully inadequate. He could have anyone he wanted, anyone, yet he made you hold his heart.

He was climbing onto the bed, gently manhandling until he had you pulled into his lap, your back pressed against his chest. He was propped up by pillows, half-leaning against the headboard so he had unfettered access to every inch of your body.

His cock was resting along your slit, slightly wet at the top, pulsing. It felt uncomfortable - every time it pulsed it would move ever so slightly, and barely feather across your sore clit.

Shouto didn’t let you rest for long, two of his fingers quickly sucked into his mouth before brought down to your pussy, pushing his cock away from your body so his hand could easily cup your sex.

“Just relax now, I’ve got you.”

And his fingers slipped inside, reaching past the places his tongue had explored, proving deeper and deeper. They rubbed tantalizingly at your walls, making you squirm, before slowly beginning to thrust in and out, gently fucking your sloppy cunt.

“Just like that. You’re perfect, so good to me.” Shouto pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

His free hand came around your chest to softly cup one of your breasts, rolling the nipple under his thumb. Your back arched under his ministrations, but he held you firm against his chest. You could feel his rapid heartbeat.

Funny, how he could act so calm, but be falling apart inside.

His fingers grazed against a spot inside of you that had your toes curling, your mouth dropping open.

“No, no Shouto please, it’s too much. I’ve already-you’ve already-please, no more.” You were breathless, twisting in his hold.

Shouto didn’t let up.

“Just a few more.” He murmured in your ear. “I know you can. I’m making you feel so good, you’re lovely.”

You gasped as his fingers inside of you sped up, forcefully hitting that spot over and over again, making you whine.

It felt good, but it was too much, too soon.

The orgasms he had pulled from you with his mouth had been quick, hard, left your lungs heaving and your hips twisting to get away.

This orgasm hit you like a train, appearing out of nowhere, completely overwhelming you.

You were left wheezing, clawing at Shouto’s arms, kicking your legs - but that only made it worse, jostling his fingers inside of you.

Shouto still didn’t stop fingerpicking you, wrist twisting.

You started to cry, slowly at first, then harder when you realized he was still going, forcing you to endlessly orgasm, cunt pulsating as it drooled around his skin fingers.

“Pl-ease! Shouto n-no moreee...” you sobbed, breath hitching.

The man merely kissed your ear, his hand never stopping. You could feel him peering over your shoulder, watching his hand flick as his fingers fucked into you. Watching the violent trembling of your body, the convulsions of your stomach as you were brought over the edge again and again, each orgasm taking longer to reach than the last one.

You couldn’t feel your legs anymore. You barely even knew what was happening anymore.

It was barely registered when his fingers slipped free of your cunt. Your hole was clenching around nothing, insides buzzing, almost number from the overstimulation. You might’ve been hyperventilating, but you were too far out of it to tell, barely aware of your own body, mind listlessly floating between nonsense thoughts.

“Look at you, did so well for me. Your body is incredible.” Hands, one cold, one warm (and wet) trailed along your sides, occasionally pausing to gently squeeze your flesh reassuringly.

You hated how he did this, made you stupid and broken with pleasure, brought you back to conscious thought, then ruined you all over again.

Still faintly sobbing, you weakly batted at his hands, unable to express with words how sensitive you were. Plus, it was gross, his own hand rubbing your own cum all over your skin.

He was kissing your neck, your hair, nibbling sweetly at your ear, whispering praises and compliments.

Shouto had been so rough the first time, desperate, needy. He had left bruises on your hips, hands grabbing too tightly at your flesh, his teeth forming vicious bite marks on your neck and collarbone as he tried to stifle his noises when he fucked into you. At some point he had been babbling, mad with the sensation of pumping your swollen cunt, rambling about how soft, how warm, how pliant your body was.

In a way, his gentleness could hurt more.

Hands gripped his pink cock, easily running it through your slick folds. You let the tip bump against your clit, smiling into your neck when you jumped, revoking back into his naked chest.

Shouto guided his tip to your entrance, holding himself in place as he slowly canted his hips up, sheathing himself into your warmth.

With a low groan, he stilled, fully inside you. You shook in his hold, clutching nervously at the hands no longer holding his cock, but now holding your hips.

He helped you move, easily using his strength to fuck you along his cock, breathing hotly against your neck as he sunk in and out of your tight sleeve. You were confused by the signals your brain was sending. Did it feel good? Did it hurt? We’re you numb? The physical feelings all meshed together, but it was easier to just hang onto Shouto-a hand in his hair, another hand braced against his thigh-than to think.

The man fucked you steadily, hot cock drilling into your dripping pussy without pause, a rhythmic schlick schlick schlick reaching your ears.

You were crying again, shuddering sobs that deprived your lungs of air, that made your head hurt, that blurred your visions Shouto noticed, lifting a hand to wipe away a few tears, but never once stopping his hips.

It wasn’t long before his pace picked up, cock working into you quick and fast. Your brain wasn’t confused anymore - each thrust hurt, but in the best kind of way, rubbing at your insides.

Shouto was moaning now, breathless, talking to you in a gentle tone that contrasted sharply with his half-frantic movements

“So-unh-tight and wet, oh fuck, you feel so heavenly. Sweet little girl, always what I need. Always there for me.”

You turned your head, crying into Shouto’s sweaty neck, unable to focus your eyes. It was so much, too much, and you couldn’t handle it.

“Want to make you feel good, need to-ohhhhh. Your tiny cunt always takes my cock so well, makes me cum so much. You’re just made for me, aren’t you? Sloppy little pussy, made for me to-oh fuck, fuck!” It was rare to hear him swear. The man continued “-Made for me to eat, made for me to touch, made for me to pound into. You’re mine, only mine.”

He was growling now, cock rabbiting into you so fast that you were making little noises on every thrust, little “ah, ah, ah!”’s that made your face flush with shame.

Shouto was suprisingly lewd with his mouth once he was turned on enough, his normally quiet and reserved persona crumbling underneath a horny mess of a man.

“You’re sucking me in, want me to cum?” The questiona as rhetorical-he was going to cum anyways-but still you nodded, face still hidden in his neck.

“Yeah? Yeah? Ohh, you have to cum too-“ you wailed, desperately against the thought of having to go though another orgasm.

“No, you do as I say, sweet little girl.” Shouto admonished, his angle changing slightly as he shifted his hips. “We’re not done until you cum. One more time, just for me.”

You frantically shook your head, gasping for breath, too fucked out to say anything. Shouto was breathing so hard, hissing between his teeth, grunting with the effort of keeping his horribly rapid pace.

A hand slipped down to your cunt, and you screamed when his fingers found your abused clit. “Shouto! No, ah-please! Stop, oh stop-mmmmm!!! I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t-“

“You can.”

Shouto hissed, furiously rubbing at your clit with three fingers, punishing the little nub.

You came to in the shower, Shouto’s arms around you as a gentle spray of water washed over you.

The man noticed as you stirred, his arms immediately tightening around you as he pressed a loving kiss to your cheek. “Hello, I missed you.”

Blearily, you watched his hands move as he slowly washed you off, dragging a washcloth gently over your shoulders.

He was perceptive, knew your lower half was too sensitive still to even be touched, much less cleaned.

You stayed in the shower for a long while, Shouto humming some unknown tune as he cleaned the both of you.

You didn’t fight when he carried you back to the (now fresh, had he changed the sheets?) bed.

Nor when he tucked you under the covers, crawling to your side to lie close.

You just watched the flames of the fire, watched them dance over the logs, consuming the wood.

Fire was so destructive. Even when it tried to love, it only burned and destroyed.

#bnha shouto #shouto todoroki #todoroki #bnha todoroki #bnha shoto todoroki #shoto todoroki #dark bnha #dark shouto #dark Todoroki #yandere #oneshot #oh hecc #he rlly do be smashin #but like #without consent #bad todoroki #bad shouto #yandere shouto #yandere todoroki #okay I tried my best on tags #I wrote this instead of sleeping #stupid binch

[inkykeiji]

Many sad thoughts running through my head but I can imagine Dabi having trust issues as you and the other anon saying. Him being afraid of getting left behind. I feel like he would say “I didn’t mean to say I love you” at some point because that’s a type of vulnerable he doesn’t want to be but it’s just one of many thoughts

AHHHHHHHH anon anon why must u hurt me like this?????? pls my whole heart just broke at this and i uhhhhh wrote 1.7k words about it,,,

❅ cw: soft dabi, angst, rly sappy ❅

It seems to happen at the most random of times. It isn’t like the movies, isn’t ever after some profound incident or momentous occurrence shared between the two of you—no, it’s always right after the most mundane things; after he catches you brushing your teeth in a cute matching set of panties and a tank top, sticking out your tongue at him, mouth full of foamy white toothpaste; after he finds you curled up on the couch buried under a fluffy blanket, nothing more than a lump and a head as your eyes rapidly scan the pages of the book in front of you, entirely absorbed in whatever world it’s built for you; after he walks into the kitchen to see you by the sink washing a few dishes, hips swaying and head nodding as you hum along to whatever song is blasting through your headphones.

But God, does it hit him like a motherfucking bus every single time, punches him in the stomach without warning, knocks the breath straight out of him.

He’s usually good at keeping it to himself, usually able to swallow it back down when those three little words begin to creep up his throat, dancing on the back of his tongue and restricting his breathing.

But eventually, he messes up.

You had started it, right after you had finished sprinkling the pizza stone with some flour while he was rolling out the dough, wiping your powdery fingers down his t-shirt, then swiping a thumb across his cheekbone, leaving a streak of white flour painted in its path, a little mischievous smile on your face and glint in your eyes.

He retaliates immediately, grabbing a pinch of flour from the bag and flicking it right in your face.

“Dabi!” you gasp, but your shoulders are shaking with silent laughter as you wipe at your face, fingers only managing to leave more strokes of the substance instead of clearing it. Your hand dives into the bag, grasping a handful of flour, inhaling deeply—enough to expand your entire chest—before blowing air out of your mouth, casting tiny, thick explosions of white at him, speckling his shirt and dusting his inky hair.

“Oh, you little brat,”

And, fuck, you look so goddamn beautiful, giggles ringing out around the room, flour strewn in your messy, tousled hair, smears of it across your cheeks and neck, sprinkled on your clothes, eyes bright and breathing laboured with exhilaration as you daintily leap away from him.

They’re bubbling up in his chest, those three stupid little words, climbing up, up, up his throat to settle on his tongue, light and sweet, floating in his mouth like candy floss and melting on his tongue only to be resurrected by another one of your giggles, or playful yelps, or squeals of his name.

And he’s too preoccupied to remember to swallow them down, to chew and chomp on them until he’s crushed them into a thousand tiny pieces as he chases you around the kitchen while you throw clouds of flour at each other, too enraptured by the soft, cute, precious sounds he’s endlessly pulling from you, too hellbent on hearing more, a man possessed.

Because he hasn’t laughed like this in ages, isn’t sure he’s ever laughed like this in his entire life, and they just slip out, when he finally catches you, chest heaving a bit from the thrill of it all as large hands curl around your shoulders.

“God, I love you,”

They’re muttered softly, just a huff of breath, really, blanketed by his laughs and yours, and you nearly miss them.

Nearly.

And then, everything stops. Your laughs abruptly cut off, and he wishes he’d have missed the sharp intake of breath you inhale through your mouth, lips parted slightly, wide eyes staring at him as your body freezes up, going rigid in his grasp, feet fused to the floor.

He stops, too, lets go of you so quickly you’d think your skin burnt his palms through the thin material of your shirt, sapphire eyes growing wide—wider than you’ve ever seen them before—as his mind catches up with his mouth, stumbling a few steps back from you.

He wants to say something, anything, but his voice is caught in his chest, fading into pathetic squeaks of breath any time he tries to force a few words out. And it aches, heart pounding almost painfully against his ribcage, breathing shallow—almost ceased completely—as he stares unblinking at you, sharp, tingling anxiety flooding his veins.

And you—well, you’re staring at him with this look in your eyes, something that he can’t decipher, and it makes his stomach lurch. It’s a look he’s never seen before, your eyes shining as you gaze at him, almost glittering as you stare at him, unmoving, unbreathing, unexplainable. Are you upset? Angry? Disgusted? Stunned? A combination of all four? None at all?

The fact that he can’t tell, that he doesn’t know, when he prides himself on being able to read others so insanely well, ignites flames of anger that alight his entire body, right to the tips of his fingers and his toes, blazing straight through the anxiety and simmering in his chest, eyes hardening as they glare back at you.

A beat passes, your ears ringing from the thick, tense silence draped over the room, and then he’s pushing past you roughly with a choked snarl that sounds a little like a mix between a sob and a growl, and storming out of the kitchen.

He’s cut off all communication entirely, has been ignoring you for a few days now, only leaving his bedroom out of absolute necessity and refusing to answer any of your countless texts that have been collecting on his lockscreen, refusing to even touch his phone. He doesn’t want to see what you have to say, desperately tries to convince himself that he doesn’t care, that he isn’t scared of what your messages might reveal, isn’t terrified of that impending rejection he’s so sure is lurking on the horizon.

But there’s only so long he can keep avoiding you before you finally catch him in the kitchen, just past three in the morning, fixing himself a late-night snack.

“Oh, thank God,”

He whirls around at the sound of your voice, cobalt eyes gaping for a moment before narrowing into sharp slits an instant later.

“Dabi, listen—”

“No,” he growls, eyes flashing. “You listen, I don’t want to fucking talk about it, alright?”

Leaping in front of him, you block his path, prohibiting him from leaving the kitchen and speaking quickly. “Yeah? Well I do!”

“I don’t care,” he spits viciously, the ache throbbing deep in his chest—at the very core of his body—reminding him otherwise. “There’s nothing to talk about, anyway! It’s not like I meant them,”

And that—that gets you to stop, tripping a little over your own feet as you stumble back like he’s physically slapped you, a soft, hurt little whimper getting caught in the back of your throat as tears rapidly pool in your eyes, blurring your vision.

“Wh-What?”

He glares down at you, molars grinding together as his nose twitches.

I didn’t mean to say I love you.

What a pathetic fucking sentence—it’s almost laughable, the corners of his lips quirking up in a sardonic little grin. Your breath hitches, and his shoulders tense at the sound.

‘You aren’t supposed to know I love you’ is much more accurate, his mind sneers at him. Coward. Fucking coward.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says, though his voice is beginning to quiver, trembling hands curling into tight fists in an effort to stop it, short nails biting into the flesh of his palm as the skin stretched taut over his knuckles turns bone white.

“Didn’t mean what?” you whisper, glistening tears finally spilling over and streaming down your cheeks, leaving gleaming trails of salt water behind them. “Say it, Dabi,”

He’s got his eyes shut tightly as he shakes his head, knows if he opens them, if he looks at you, that he’ll break, shatter into a thousand pieces, split himself open at the very core of his body and bare his entire soul to you.

“Look at me,” you demand softly.

His jaw flexes once, slowly exhaling out his nose.

“Dabi, look at me,” a pause. “Please?”

“No.”

“W-Why?” the word escapes your lips in a little whine, broken up by your sniffles.

You know why.

But it’s those little half-sobs, the ones that keep catching painfully in your chest, that do it, interspersed with your soft whimpers as you plead with him—please, open your eyes, just look at me for a second, please!

Unable to stand it any longer, his lids finally rise, slowly revealing sparkling sapphire, glowering at you, his harsh gaze protected by a thin shield of water.

He hates this, hates not having control over his own fucking body, over his own fucking thoughts, hates the unfamiliarity of it all, of the unpleasant fluttering in his stomach and burning in his throat, swallowing thickly past the hard lump that’s formed, constricting his breathing.

Revolting, his inner voice snarls at him. You’re weak, letting some stupid little girl get to you like this, as if you even—

Your touch silences the voice, cutting it off midsentence, his whole body flinching at the soft, small hand resting so tenderly against the curve of his face, subconsciously nuzzling his cheek into your palm a second later, eyes slipping shut again.

“Dabi,” you begin, and something has changed. You no longer sound hurt, no longer sound wounded, your voice gentle and—

No. No, no, no, this can’t be happening to him right now. Panic grips his heart, puncturing it with its claws, sending blistering, sharp pain searing through his chest and slicing him open, raw and vulnerable.

“Please, don’t,” he whispers, words tumbling from his lips without his permission, voice frail, fragile, broken.

Don’t. He doesn’t want to hear them, doesn’t need to hear them, can’t bear to hear them—not if they’re false, fake, uttered out of misplaced pity and sympathy.

“I love you, too,”

A pathetic hiccup gets caught in his throat and he chokes on it, chest stuttering as he shakes his head, lids clenching tightly against the unfamiliar sting of tears, lips pressed together firmly to stifle the tiny distressed sounds that keep crawling up his throat, trying to escape.

There’s no way, she’s lying, how could she ever—

“Yes,” you whisper, thumb caressing his jaw. “I love you, too,”

#dabi x reader #dabi #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya #dabi angst #dabi fluff #???? just BARELY #TW SOFT DABI #AHHHHHH anon i am screaming endlessly into the void #sweet anon 🥺 #clari gets mail

[uncouth-the-fifth]

not alot of jon love in these prompts so could u pretty pls do 214 w him and a soft catwoman reader? 🥺 maybe they're having a one night stand on a rooftop and they both kinda don't want it to end, even if they're enemies?

214. "Take it off slowly," with Jon Kent.

i just reread all of the unity saga, so you got me at the perfect time!! I'm obsessed w that one panel where Jon’s about to punch Zod in space... my king 👑 fuck it I'm putting it here

You never imagined that Superman would be this soft.

Being called the Man of Steel, along with being literally invulnerable, implied that his skin was like metal. You imagined it was callousless, and impossibly, terrifyingly still, like any moment his grip could tighten and crush you into powder. That’s how the cellmates across from you in Arkham had described it. You personally doubted that Superman was this gentle with them.

In reality, his skin was smooth and his hands did have callouses, floating over your sides and squeezing your hips with heaps of control. With that much strength you figured it would be impossible to be gentle (it was impossible for you to touch a bubble without popping it, and to him, you must’ve been a frail one), and yet Superman was nothing but. His nails stroked gently at your thighs. His thumbs pressed into your belly. His hips rolled up into yours, his whole body coiled with pleasure. The only time you glimpsed even a little of his strength was when he pulled you back onto him, filling you up with a satisfied moan.

“Fuck,” you mewled. He was the biggest you’d ever been with.

For all his superspeed, you went slow. Superman was spread out beneath you, gauntlets thrown aside with your catsuit, his cape the only layer between your bodies and the concrete. You bounced in his lap like you had plenty to take out on him, which you did. This was the third time he’d stopped one of your heists. His little gift to you was letting you off easy instead of turning you in, but you knew he wouldn’t waste another opportunity to arrest you. This was the last straw. You may be stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, but all his stupid Kryptonian ears heard was stealing.

You hated him. A part of you truly did. But he was gorgeous and forgiving and sweet, sweeter than anyone had ever been to you, and you knew in your heart that he only fought you because of the law. You hated him, but he felt so good.

Scowling, you sunk your nails into the padding of his chest and dragged, dragged, dragged across that stupid symbol until you felt his bare abs clench. Even with your claws on, you couldn’t hurt him. He always joked that you treated him like a scratching pole, but there was this air to his voice that made you feel like he enjoyed it. Like maybe he even craved it.

Superman scooped up your hands in one of his and lifted, sitting up with your arms around his neck. Looking at him in the eye flushed your sensitive core with shame, but you still had your mask to hide behind. He didn’t. His cheeks were rosy and his lips were shiny from all the aggressive kissing you’d done. Sweetly, he sunk you deeper, rooting you to the base of his cock, and kissing you warmly. Superman tasted like cream chapstick and love. The third time his nose bumped the edge of your goggles, he swore.

You didn’t tell him you were close, but he knew anyway. Superman slowed, your limbs numb with adrenaline and lust, and tried to meet eyes with you behind your mask.

“W-wait,” he panted. Brave as ever, Superman gestured to your mask, “Take it... take it off. Slowly. I-I want to see your face.”

He’d seen it before. Still, you snapped back at him, “Why?”

“You get to see mine,” Superman soothed. His big, welcoming palm cupped your cheek, stroking your face like you were a precious treasure - not the thief stealing it instead. As the moment went on, you felt less like you were sitting in his lap and more like you were being hugged. Embraced.

“It doesn’t matter,” you replied, bitter, “we don’t even know each other’s names.”

Superman laid back on his hands, offended, and twisted his fingers in the cape you were using as a blanket. He looked at you like he knew this was going to be over soon, and both of you would be back to fighting any minute. He looked at you like that wasn’t what he wanted.

Softly, he said, “My name is Jon.”

Really? Jon is all you could come up with? You wanted to spit in his face. But he sat there like he’d pried open his chest for you to see his heart, like he was telling the truth - and as much as you hated him, you knew Superman never lied. 

His real name really was Jon.

When it hit you that Superman’s secret identity was now in your possession, you paused. The filthiness of fucking him like this drained out of you, first until you were hollow, then again until you were brimming with the compulsion to kiss him as wildly and romantically as you could. You hated him. But no one had ever treated you like this before.

In one pull, you slipped off your lenses and your cowl.

“...Y/N.”

Jon tested the name in his mouth. “Y/N, huh... I like that. It’s beautiful.”

You ignored him. Fisting your hands in his hair, you dragged him into a desperate, lasting kiss. Jon woke up for whatever daydream he was in and swooped his arms around your middle, groaning as you both started to move again. His throbbing cock rolled perfectly into your slick, filling your every ridge like it was meant for him, like you were meant for him. Supe—Jon, helped you on and off him, slanting your lips together in a starved dance. Your pussy ached more and more with every thrust. Even if this was faster than before, you felt your belly surge with butterflies. This wasn’t fucking. You were making love.

Soon, those butterflies were replaced with a hot, filling liquid. Jon parted from your lips to shudder and moan through his orgasm, spurred by your own. Every clench of your cunt drew more of him inside you. Once his cum flowed, it didn’t seem to stop, filling you the womb and brimming over until your lap was caked. It drooled from your pussy and hung from your thighs in sticky heaps. You clutched the trail of your orgasm as you held him - like you never wanted it to end.

Jon collapsed backwards, catching the breath he didn’t need spread out on his cape. You followed, your nose flooded with the smell of his sex, your cunt sobbing with his seed, and your cheek pressed to that stupid symbol. You touched it, shamefully enamored.

Tender as ever, Jon wrapped you up in his arms and squeezed you against him.

“Y/N,” he whispered, nuzzling your hair, “could we...?”

“Yeah,” you murmured, relaxing against his chest. “Yeah, Jon, we can...”

#jondami #jon kent x you #jon kent smut #jon kent #jon kent x reader #dc comics smut #dc comics #dc smut #dc #user uncouth #YES it is barely on in the afternoon where i am #am i still posting jon smut like a heathen? #fuck yeah #that's my superman babieee

[wish-i-wasnt-a-coward]

Hair dye (the things I’d do for you)

a/n: heeeyyyyyy, I’m back on the requests train. I like this one but the amount of editing I did for it is insane. Anyway, thank you @kittuppie for the request and I hope you enjoy!!! (p.s. if it’s not clear Virgil is crying because he believes his feelings for Logan are unrequited) 

Pairings: analogical (Logan x Virgil)

Warnings: crying, curseing, unconsensual kiss (arguably accidental), and some miscommunication. We do things hurt/comfort style in this household baby!

Word count: 1,020

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Virgil leaned back into his weighted blanket. He rubbed his face, still sticky with tears, and tried to slow his ragged breathing. 

He glanced down at his phone and cursed. He shouldn’t have sent that text, Logan didn’t need to know he was crying. No one did, but especially not the subject of his tears. 

He was such a fucking idiot. 

The phone dinged, Virgil's entire body went stiff. ‘I’m on myi way, hang in there’ floated on the screen, another ding, ‘please let me know if your ok’.

A sob bubbled up in Virgil’s throat. 

Spelling errors, his thoughtless text had driven Logan to the point of spelling errors. Virgil’s heavy fingers wouldn’t cooperate as he typed back, ‘I’m fine, pls don’t worry. Sorry if inconvenienced you’

The typing bubble popped up but Virgil turned off the sound and threw his phone across the room. He didn’t want to see the grateful response that would be coming. 

“Idiot” he mumbled again burying his face into his hands. 

Panicking was exhausting. He was so tired. Maybe he should take a nap, he wouldn't have to think while he was asleep.

His eyes fluttered shut. His body relaxed, this was nice. 

Suddenly the sound of a door slamming open crashed through his apartment. 

“Verge!” Logan’s voice called. 

Virgil shot up like a bullet. He scrubbed his face, frantically trying to erase any remnants of the hour he had spent crying. 

Before he could compose himself Logan swung through the doorway with a plastic bag and a determined expression. 

He was missing his signature tie and the top button of his shirt had come undone. His hair was messy and his glasses crooked. But despite his uncharacteristically disheveled state he spoke in the same even tone, “Let's go, we're dyeing our hair, '' 

Virgil blinked at him. “What.” 

Logan sighed, “you are sad, correct?” Virgil nodded, “I don’t like it when you’re sad. Therefore to assist in remedying your sorrow, I bought hair dye” 

Virgil’s confusion gave way to intense adoration. 

He bought hair dye so Virgil might be less sad, how fucking sweet was that. Virgil shrugged off the blanket with some difficulty and peered into the plastic bag, “what colors did ya get?”

“All of them.”

“Excuse me!?” 

Logan looked away awkwardly, “I um- I didn’t think it through. I was near the hair dye aisle at CVS when I got your text so I-'' 

He was cut off by a very warm, very strong hug from Virgil. Logan smiled and hugged Virgil back “Thank you,” the shorter man whispered. 

Logan smiled, “no problem”.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

20 minutes later the two men were situated in Virgil’s bathroom. Virgil’s bangs had been clipped back with pink hairpins and was thoroughly stained a neon purple. 

Small flecks of color dotted the man's darker skin, giving him tiny purple freckles to match his usual brown ones. 

He was, objectively, adorable. 

Logan sat on the edge of the tub, Virgil kneeling in front of him. His tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth as he carefully applied blue to Logan’s hair. His brown eyes sparkled but were still tinged red. 

Logan brushed a fleck of blue off of Virgil’s cheek. 

“Would you like to talk about what is bothering you?” Logan felt Virgil flinch under his fingertips. “No. Not really” he said quietly, returning his attention to Logan’s hair. 

“There, done” Logan nodded and resisted the urge to brush his fingers through his damp curls. “Movie,” he asked. 

Virgil grinned “though you’d never ask”. 

As the end credits rolled Logan and Virgil found themselves curled together on the couch. 

Logan looked down at the man in his lap, Virgil looked back up at him and giggled. 

Holey shit, he was absolutely smitten.

“We should wash it out” Virgil yawned and dragged himself off of Logan’s lap. The man nodded and pulled himself up, “you take the shower I’ll take the sink”

The hair dye ran through his fingers down the drain, operating exactly as expected. The blue-stained to all it touched including Logan’s hands and face. Clean-up was going to be a bitch. 

Logan tousled his hair with a bath towel. With the dark blue stains on his hands and the counter taken care of, Logan moved towards a mirror in the hallway.

His bangs, now dark blue, matched his eyes almost perfectly. It was a cool look, one that Logan was willing to repeat. 

The bathroom door behind him opened softly and Logan’s heart nearly stopped. 

Virgil’s neon purple hair contrasted perfectly with his chestnut skin. His piercing black eyes hid behind a thin curtain of purple but they glittered happily, “well don’t you look nice” Virgil smirked. 

Virgil moved towards him, he brushed his hands through Logan’s messy curls. He might have been saying something, Logan couldn’t tell, he was too busy staring at Virgil.

Logan did realize he was moving until his lips were on Virgil’s. 

For a split second, all Logan could feel were butterflies, and then the panic kicked in. He jolted away from Virgil, his hand flying to his lips. Virgil stared up at him with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry” Logan choked out and bolted. 

The door slammed shut behind him.

Virgil brushed fingertips across his lips, staring at the place Logan had been. Then he grabbed his keys and raced after him. 

By the time Virgil found Logan the sun was dipping into the horizon, painting them both gold. Logan had taken refuge in the parking lot behind the library. He looked so small curled up on the bench, Virgil’s chest squeezed just looking at him. 

He crouched in front of Logan pulled his fingers away from his face. “Hey” Virgil murmured. 

Logan’s cheeks were flushed and his face blotchy, but Virgil smiled when their eyes met. “That was a pretty good kiss,” he whispered, Logan's head shot up.

“But I think I can do better. Mind if I try?” Logan nodded frantically and pulled Virgil towards him, closing the gap between them once again. 

Maybe sending that text hadn’t been such a bad idea. 

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[binniesthighs]

wetter | reader x minho

Pairing: self insert, gender neutral reader x lee minho 

Genre: smut, angst,  pwp 

Tags: harddom!minho, sub!reader, fuckboi!minho, fratboy!minho, waitstaff!reader, hookup au, degredation, penetration (r), oral and facefucking (m receiving), several mentions of gagging bc of deepthroating, fingering (r), semi-public sex (bathroom), quickie, cumshot (face), several allusions to infidelity 

Word count: 2.5k 

Requested: “hard dom!minho... with degradation...pls...”  &  “my thoughts are filled with hard dom!minho with degredation 🤤” (original ask)

There’s something intoxicating about hooking up with a person when the only thing that you know about them is the heat from their lips. 

Some would argue that this makes them less of a “person” but more of a fantasy. If you had know their name, it would’ve made other strings twist in the mix. If you had known their name, maybe you would have been inclined to look them up maybe, or even worse, fall asleep with their name running over and over in your mind. 

It was best when they tasted like sin and like the daydreams that you had never uttered. 

He wasn’t like the other men that you would lead into the spotless bathroom of the country club which practically shone from the hard work of janitors who were paid less than the meals served at the god-forsaken place. As a part of the wait staff, your pay was dismal, but at least you could get a good fuck out of it once and a while. 

Then men that would frequent the country club and golf course were always the kind that had starving hands and dicks that would twitch under their belts from the slightest brush of your hand. They were the kind of men who had wives, mistresses, and even handsome young men who could be at their beck and call. You liked to think that you were unlike those who they secretly craved. If anything, you were their daydreams. 

This man seemed to be no different--at least in looks. 

He sat with his legs spread where he socialized with his young friends on the veranda. The small group ate their salmon on bagels and caviar along with expensive cocktails that you barely knew the names of. A couple of them already had girls on their laps, and they fed them cherries which stained their plush (and likely fake) lips. 

This man sat alone with his cardigan and perfectly pressed pants and loafers that appeared to have never been worn before. He had barely touched his food, but rather seemed to satiate his appetite from the teasing and dumb laughter of his friends. Judging off of his chunky and extravagant watch, there must’ve been no way that he had paid for the thing himself. Daddy or Mommy’s money made him appear as if he was some heir or prince. He even smelled like one too. 

The male patrons would often follow the way that your hips moved when you walked to and from their table, or how your hands would rest on the crystal glass tables as you took their orders. You knew they must have been imagining what your fingers would’ve looked around their cocks. 

He even gave you the same look. 

You had guessed that he must’ve been college age or some kind of graduate. His friends wore Greek letters, so you assumed that he must have been one of the “brothers.” A long time ago, someone had told you to be especially careful of his breed of boy. 

“Care to accompany me away from this crowd?” He had whispered into your ear, tickling it, when you had reached across to grab the plates. 

 The other boys had decided to go to the pool or the gym--not that it mattered--and his hand crept behind your waist as soon as he had excused himself from the rest of the group. 

“I’ve got to call my mom real quick. If she wasn’t such a nag all the time...” 

He held your hand as if he had known you, but it was likely not to rouse suspicion. 

“Nice to meet you.” He sneers, looking back and passing the crowds of women in their feathered hats and other golfers in their finest designer polos and slacks. 

You nod, noting that his hand feels strong and domineering in your own, and you can’t even begin to wonder where he might be taking you. If you were lucky, they would take you to their rooms and lay you down on the California King Sized Mattress, then you wouldn’t have to bend uncomfortably. However, this wouldn’t always be the case. Most of them favored coat closets, bathrooms and powder rooms. 

You kept your head down as he pulled you further down hallways, praying that none of your coworkers would take notice. Some of them already had, however it wasn’t like any of them cared...not when they would often indulge in the same vice. Unhappy marriages were where most of you found some brief moments of happiness. 

The young man snickered finding his hiding place and promptly lead you along with him into the towel closet which had been unlocked by the pool boys. The door was painted white and louvered with slits for airflow. It was then when you knew this would have to be one of the times when you would have to bite your tongue back. 

He closed the door as quietly as he could, then turned to shove you back against it, and smear his heavy breaths over your mouth where he slicked his tongue against yours immediately. As he did so, his heated fingertips set to shrugging off your apron and hastily throwing it aside. You returned by sinking your fingers under his leather belt and jingling the metal around. If he was to see you bare, you wanted to see him too--something told you that he had something to show under his designer cardigan and this cotton shirt which must’ve cost a similar fortune. 

His abs were toned as you had expected, and they rippled under your fingertips. The young man popped the button to your pants, and you reciprocated doing the same. Just like the others, it barely took anything for him to get hard. His length swelled against your stomach and he grinded it into you too just so you could feel his eagerness. 

“You were practically asking to get fucked? Weren’t you? You whore.” 

The young man smiled out his poisonous words, but they felt as luxurious as they usually did when you had heard them grace your ears. He kissed you once again with a mixture of teeth and tongue that ran your lips raw while you pulled down his pants to his ankles and tugged at the elastic to his briefs. 

“Fuck, you really do want it that bad don’t you baby?” 

His hands palmed at your own quivering sex which had slicked with your own arousal from his greedy advances. His hand pushed at the confines of our underwear and pants where he started to rub incessantly, then ate up your shuddering moans which floated from your lips to his. 

All at once, he removed his hand and left your knees to buckle from the sudden lack of contact. With a deathly glare, he brought his fingers to your gasping mouth. 

“Wetter.”  He demanded before dipping them onto your tongue. You lathered them with your salvia where he twisted them around your muscle with the taste of bitter sweat and your own cum. 

Once he saw fit, he drew his soaked fingers back down to your waistband and resumed teasing at your sensitive skin. 

“You’d like to taste my cock wouldn’t you? Are you hungry enough for it, kitten?” 

You nodded, trying to hide your whimpering from his touch. 

“Get on your fucking knees then.” 

He nearly shoved your shoulders to the ground, but you didn’t need him to prompt you. You pulled down his briefs on your way down his body, springing free his hardened member that was wrapped in thick veins. You firstly jerked at his hooded shaft beading with his cum, and you kissed at his tip roughly too for good measure. 

“Did I say to tease me? Take me in your throat, you slut.” He slapped at your cheek, then aligned his dick with your lips. “What? Scared that it’s too much for you?” 

“No.” You answered while testing him from below. “I can take it.” 

“Show me.” 

You did so--even though his considerable length burned and stretched out your throat at first. You knew that sometimes they liked it when they saw you cry, so you let the tears well at their own will. You hummed against his dick while he pushed at your gag reflex. With your right hand, you took his shaft back to twist at it while your head bobbed. Your steady pace kept your gags at bay, but every so often he would jerk his hips a little with a grunt, and you would nearly loose your composure. 

“Is that as deep as you can take it? Fuck...here I was thinking that you would feel different...” 

The young man laced both of his hands to the sides of your face: the exact place to give a cue into his intentions. 

“Let me know if you need me to stop.” He growled. 

He fucked your face deeper and deeper, gradually working up to a pace that felt comfortable while you puffed up your cheeks. Gag after gag he teased, and the strings of your drool slicked and bubbled on his cock while dripping down your neck too. 

“Your pretty, tight, little throat feels so fucking good on my cock. Is that how you like it you cockslut?” 

Hot tears dripped down your cheeks while you nodded the best you could in response, and your feet startled to tingle where they had fallen asleep where you knelt. 

“Oh fuck yes.” 

All that you could do to steady yourself was claw at his lower back, then moan helplessly against his length which stretched you out so well, it was impossible that it had felt this good before. 

The young man pulled out after leaving your lips raw, pausing to pant like a wild animal while still firmly holding your head. You gasped, open mouthed, and sucked in air greedily while your spit strung from your lips to his cock. 

“Stand up.” He commanded, and pulled you to your shaking feet. “Ready to get fucked sweetheart?” 

“Y-yes.” You said, lightheaded, wiping the drool from your mouth onto your uniform sleeve. 

The young man smirked out before turning you face first into the door. “Good. Don’t make a fucking sound doll. That is, unless you want to get caught? To have someone see you fucked out like this?” 

“N-no...”  

“Lets feel then how tight this hole of yours is.” 

He let out a devilish sounding chuckle while bringing his hips to yours and coaxing his cock into your leaking entrance. He was just as thick in your hole as he had felt in your throat, and you squeaked out feeling the challenge. With your face pressed against the wooden door with ventilation slits, you could see the feet of those walking past, barely even knowing what had been occurring on the other side. Light from the hallway peeped in and striped over your whole body which the man ravished. 

“Spread your legs farther...that’s it...just like that.” 

The stranger thrust slowly at first, like he could just barely give you a taste of his full length; like you barely deserved it too. 

“Fells good, doesn’t it? Such an obedient little fucktoy for me, aren’t you? I bet you were dreaming of this happening weren’t you? ...Looking at me the way that you were...” 

“P-please...” You begged for him to quicken, but that wasn’t even your place. 

“Do you fuck everyone like how you fuck me? I should have guessed that you would put out for anyone with those coy glances. I’m no idiot.” 

“H-harder...fuck me harder...” 

“Harder?” The rich young man scoffed, “I get to decide when I go harder.” 

The man rolled his hips, and the patting of skin filled the darkened room. He gasped out while finding his rhythm, then reached around his fingers to tease at your lips once more. 

“Wetter.” He chanted. 

You did as you were told, he and rewarded you with the harsher grinding of his hips. Once his digits were properly wetted again, he brought them back to your throbbing sex, and rubbed at it with the same ferocity that he snapped. 

“Cum all over my fingers you whore, cum like you fucking want it.” 

His words were dizzying, and you gently rocked yourself over his hand and focused everything you could to drawing out your orgasm which was nearly there. 

“That's right. Fuck my fingers kitten.” 

The stranger too began to shake and you could sense that he had started to let go as well. The door rattled where he had you pressed against it, but he didn’t appear to care in the slightest. 

“Oh god,” You peeped as quietly as you could, and felt your orgasm begging wildly. 

He stopped for a couple moments to tap lightly into your arousal nearly on the edge, then laughed wickedly at the way that your whole body shook in response. All the while, his hips maintained their quick drags. 

“Cum for me.” He demanded once more, and you obliged, finally erupting over his fingers with the cream of your cum lathers over your thighs and wrapping around his digits. 

The words came out airy and broken, “S-shit....s-shit...” 

He had become unchained, then turned his whole attention to the way that his fingers dug into your hips and how he could graze you so deep inside, it was like nothing you had known of before. He then grabbed at your ass with the bite of his fingernails while he pumped with hitched breaths. 

“Back to your knees.” The command was sudden, but soon you found your shaking legs right back on the ground. 

The stranger jerked himself fervently with eyes screwed shut and his own soft moans trailing from his pink lips and wetted tongue. 

“Look at me.” He whispered. With one more flick of his wrist, he sent himself spewing his white and warm cum all over your face; ruining every feature. You closed your eyes to protect them but permitted your tongue to him freely where he jerked out the last of his milkly liquid directly onto your taste buds. His cum had painted your cheeks, and dripped from your jaw. At last you swallowed down the most you could with the bitter aftertaste that you had loved so much. 

“Well, that’s certainly a sight.” The man reveled at his work. 

You gasped out for him and grabbed a nearby towel to wipe the rest away, although he appeared somewhat disappointed by this. He too took a towel to wipe off his length and sweating forehead. After, he was silent picking up his clothes, and jingling his belt once more back over his waist. It often ended like this: the few words spoken in the moments before they left. 

“Thanks for that babe.” He grinned. “Name’s Lee Minho. ‘Hope I’ll be seeing you around again.” 

~🌹~ 

Bunch of (Ro)ses! 

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @lunarskzzz  @yourdaddychan @bubblelixie @spnobsessedmemes @lmhmins @eunaeiekim

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