#my mouth is litterally salivating just writing about it

[hollyhomburg]

So I’ve started to grow out my pubic hair to give shaving a break(it was causing some ingrown hairs and stuff) and I’ve been wondering, if you’re comfortable with answering, how the pack views body hair. Are they free lovin it, clean shaven, trimmed…? I imagine mc had some lasered off bc of geumjae but even laser removal isn’t completely permanent and there’s still some peach fuzz. I can see namjoon being all whatever about it and hair is just hair and it’s healthy or normal bc your body made it

ooooh this is such an interesting question. this response is a little disjointed but here you go!

i think that different packmates have different opinions on it and then don't like all shave or all not shave. jinnie likes to keep himself very very nicely trimmed. grown out to the point where he's not pokey and more soft.

jk's the biggest wildcard, he goes from not shaving at all to likeing to get waxed or shave his pubes into a little hearts sometimes. he even dyed it bright colors in college and dyed it with hobi at one point. Yoongi's little more natural but sometimes jin trims him and it's very like sensual if that makes sense? jin at least likes it when all of their hair is the same length.

hobi keeps himself natural until jin gets his hands on him, idk why i like the idea of hobi getting a little flustered and hard at jinnie trimming him with like- one of those electric trimmers that vibrates every so slightly. all spread out for his omega squirming as jin softly manuvers his body.

Namjoon and Jimin are like- absolutely feral about any and all body hair, namjoon especially. I just picture him nuzzling into Yoongi's happy trail in alpha space or pre-rut soaking in the scent of Yoongi and just being like "oh- you're my beta." if we're getting feral here i think namjoon likes it because it always smells like them and he's got a bit of a scent kink. namjoon in rut would definitly want to scent the m/c's tiny little patches of hair. idk why i think it's sweet- the image of him rubbing his chin all over her pussy, kinda resting his cheek on her pubic bone just completely scent high.

the m/c did get laser hair removal on most of her body and though it's started to grow back in patches she keeps it clean shaven because it's a little annoying to her that it didn't grow back uniform. i think she's insecure about it but grows more comfy when namjoon starts to like it.

tae definitly starts to shave frequently once she starts to transition and jimin does a bit of a 180 because it makes tae so happy when she looks more feminine that it instantly gives jimin a heart boner and a real boner. he probably starts shaving too in solidarity but then tae gets pouty because she actually likes it when minnies a little furry :(

i think that the m/c really really really likes the pack's happy trails like. the little bit of hair that they grow on their tummy. she probably keeps it a secret from them until she does something embarassing like cry over tae shaving her tummy when she's in omegaspace 🥺

#i also have a massive thing for happy trails #i just think it's so so so fucking hot #on girls and guys #as someone whose a little ace its so hard to pinpoint the things that i find attractive #but woooh fuck #especially when peoples shirts ride up and you can see the little upwards v that it makes #my mouth is litterally salivating just writing about it

[kit-williams]

Hail to the King

For @konigsblog as a thank you for the follow and I guess to what expect of my writings.

tw: this is lewd, delusional König, warhammer 40k shenanigans, König is a Black Templar (see The 40k au for why)((I might try to write another with him as a Blood Angel)) I am shit at trigger warnings

It wasn't his fault that they hadn't kept a better leash on their Schätze. In his defense the chapter serf should have known better and the mortal... well she shouldn't have looked so helpless and cute. Normally he would be thrilled and an honor to join a kill team to slay xenos but this was suppose to be a punishment on learning to not touch what wasn't his.

He walked down the hall of the alien craft chopping down any xeno unfortunate to walk into his path. Most of the Inquisition agents he was around were men... it seems the Inquisitor had been warned about his pecularities.

"You're not suppose to be here." His head snapped over to the voice of a little Maus. He could feel his mouth salivate as the space suit hugged her form in a pleasing way. Oh sure to many baselines she was hardly different from the form of a man but he could see... as well as the custom suit with the symbol of the Inquisition on her front. But the way she was leaning over a console with the curve of her ass just on display.

"Auch, Where am I suppose to be then Maus?" He said annoyed trying to not play his hand but lucky for him his suit hid his eyes from the way they lustfully ran over her body. Though he looked at the bodies of the Xenos littering the room. "You being a little Maus and just coming in after all the fighting is done?"

He could see the pout on the other side of her visor, "Rude. No I cleared the room myself. Oh was a shame that it had to come to blows but then again..." He stopped listening as soon as her hips started to sway with what she was saying. He wanted to dig his fingers into her flesh as his hips moved against hers only hearing her pretty little moans. "Hey big guy!" She finally shouted over the vox.

König resumed paying attention to his Maus. "Ja?"

"Thanks for paying attention...," The sarcasm was obvious in her voice, "anyway. Like I said earlier you're not suppose to be near me and you're suppose to be on the other side of the ship dealing with Xenos."

"The fighting led me this way and given the amount of dead at your feet Maus. You're not exactly alone. It would be a shame if your Inquisitor lost your expertise." He purred out the last few words just buttering her up a little.

"Well... you're not wrong..." He could easily tell she was preening under his complements, "But the Inquisitor said you weren't allowed near female agents or crew members. So be off with you... shoo." She tried her best to wave him off as she turned back to the console.

Konig held a growl in his throat he'd has to teach his Maus manners later. But he was on duty and purging Xenos in the name of the Emperor came first and pleasure later. He started back down the hall before he heard mechanics and her soft little 'Oh hi.' He rushed back as soon as the rapid burst fire rang out and abhorrent xenos cries as he rushed back into the room.

She was in the middle of wrestling one as it was trying to grab her rifle out of her hands. He snarled out as he was upon them in a moment as thick xeno blood painted the walls and her suit as his chainsword ripped through the xeno flesh. Her head turned at the sound of a chime and she grabbed the assumingly heretical technology... then again he wasn't the biggest fan of the Mechanicus and knew Inquisitors tended to flirt with the Dark Mechanicus or heretecks to get better tech.

"Well I'm done here. Thanks again big guy!" She chirped and patted his chest before he grabbed her and pulled her to his chest.

"Nein! You'll just find trouble klein Maus. Und how will you get out of trouble all by yourself hmm?" He cocked his head to the side and watched her fold her arms over her chest. He was giddy as she was just the right amount of willful yet submissive. He knew what was for her own good... he had experience and age. She sighed as she settled into his arm holding her without much of a fight.

König knew he could get his hands on a pretty little Maus during his time here.

#warhammer 40k #warhammer 40k au #könig #könig x reader #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #könig cod #konig #konig x reader #konig mw2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #black templar #delusional Konig #delusional König

[airis-hunter]

So I'm writing a story with my sona (Airis) and Batman and I need help from Batman and Danny Phantom fanfic writers to tell me if my Batman and Alfred are accurate

Bat Meets Dragon, Dragon Meets Bat

The dark knight was facing off against the Joker once again. The clown threw something down on the ground that caused Joker Gas to explode out of it. Batman backed up as he covered his face with his cape. He was about to go back to fighting the clown prince when a growling noise sounded from inside the alley he had backed up in front of. Both of the Gotham residents paused and looked into the alley. The growling got louder as whatever was making the noise got closer. The first thing they were able to make out were two front legs that were dark-ish light blue. Within the next few seconds, they couldn't make out much else, besides some of the creature's face. Its face looked to be completely white, with small horns on top of its head, its eyes glowed a bright blue, and most terrifying of all, its giant mouth was open in a salivated snarl, showing off the creature's massive sharp teeth. Batman raised one of his hands in caution as he got ready to take a step back. The Joker, seeing that the creature was completely locked onto Batman, grinned.

"I'll just leave you two here to get acquainted, catch you later, Batsy!" he laughed before running away into the night. The Joker's signature cackle echoed throughout the streets. Batman grunted under his breath in frustration.

"Just what I need," he grumbled. The creature made no move towards the bat, only its tail flicking back and forth. Now that it was just him and the creature, he was able to try to get a better look at it. From what little he could see of the creature from outside of the alley's shadow, the creature was covered in wounds. Cuts and scratches littered its body, most of them looking somewhat fresh. Glancing downward, he saw blood covering the alley floor. The bat's eyebrows furrowed underneath his mask. All the creature saw was the eyes of his cowl narrow. It growled a little louder in response.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered gently as he put his hands up in the universal sign of surrender/peace. "I can help you." he continued while daring to take a step forward. The creature made no move to retaliate, only growling even louder and narrowing its eyes at him. Batman understood the look, 'You hurt me, and I won't hesitate to eat you.' Nodding to himself, he walked forward slowly. When he got within two or so feet of the creature, it opened its mouth a bit more and spiked the pitch in its growl. Batman held his ground and gently set one of his hands on top of the creature's snout, the other disappearing inside his cape. He watched as the edges of the creature's mouth tried to relax but it seemed to try to stop it from doing so. The edges of the creature's eyes glistened. Clenching its teeth it tried to hold itself back from, inevitably, breaking down. The final straw was the creature's breath becoming ragged before it broke down and pushed its head against Batman's chest. The capped crusader stood still as he rubbed the side of the broken creature's jaw gently. The dark knight kept his shock to himself when the creature started to shrink. Batman caught the creature in his arms. It was the size of an average adult cat. One hand held the bottom of the cat-sized creature while the other rested on its head, holding it close to him. Walking towards the Batmobile, he commed Alfred.

"Alfred, I need you to get the medical wing of the Batcave ready," Batman stated.

"Sir? Are you alright?" Alfred questioned worriedly.

"Yes Alfred, I'm fine. However, I can not say the same for my," he paused as he looked down at the creature silently crying in his lap. "guest."

"Very well sir, it will be ready as soon as you arrive," Alfred confirmed. Nodding, Batman cut the com. Stepping on the gas, the Batmobile took off. He glanced down when the creature flinched.

"Hurts," a weak girl voice whimpered out. Grunting the dark knight put one of his hands on top of the creature's head and began scratching gently while still keeping his eyes on the road. Even when she relaxed he still kept one of his hands on her head. His eyes narrowed slightly when he saw one of the secret entrances to the Batcave. The entrance flew open and closed again once the Batmobile had entered. Stopping his car he got out. Making sure not to jostle her wounds as he moves.

"Oh my," Alfred muttered with a hint of sympathy. Batman followed Alfred as they both headed to the medical wing in the Batcave. He set her down on the bed as Alfred began to get ready to clean and bandage all of the creature's wounds. Opening her eyes more the creature looked around the white room. Batman saw it before it happened. The creatures hackles rose as it began looking around a little more frantic. Putting a hand on the side of her head Batman began scratching gently again.

"You're alright," he whispered. The creature turned to him, looking at him. He could see the fear in her big eyes. He observed that her dilated pupils were surrounded by the same aqua marine green as her horns and the rest of her iris was the same blue as the spikes going halfway down her back.

"If you enlarge your self to about my size it would be easier for Alfred to treat your wounds," he pointed out. Looking at Alfred, who was standing next to the bed patiently, she seemed to contemplate it. Setting her head down in front of her she whimper before enlarging herself to human size. Alfred took his time cleaning each wound and bandaging it. Everytime she would flinch or whimper in pain, Batman would rub the side of her head.

"All finished, a few days of rest and you should be good enough to run around again. However, I suggest not using your right wing for at least 3 weeks, whatever happend to it has severely damage the bones in it," Alfred assessed. Sighing in relief the creature nodded. Both males watched as her breath evened out as she fell asleep. Batman stood up and headed out to the Batcomputer. Pulling his cowl off Bruce began to tried to find anything on the creature.

"Sir?" Alfred asked.

"Yes Alfred?"

"I am greatly concerned for that creature," he voiced. Bruce raised a brow at his butler. Clearing his throat Alfred continued. "Their wing was not just injured by some other animal, nor were any of their wounds for that matter." Narrowing his eyes, Bruce added.

"So you're saying-"

"That every injury on that creature was caused by human hands? Yes," Alfred confirmed. Grunting, Bruce turned back to the computer screen. Pulling up a scan of the creature, him and Alfred looked at the scan. The more and more he read, the more and more angry he got. The creature had multiple bones that were broken and then healed wrong. Some even looked like there were broken repeatedly. The blood sample proved even more disturbing information. Her blood was filled with all kinds of poisons and diseases. Someone was experimenting on the creature, seeming to test over and over how much she could take.  A low growl surfaced out of Bruce's throat.

"Why would someone do such horrid things to this creature?" Alfred contemplated out loud. A loud cat like yowl mix with a roar echoed across the Batcave. Standing up imediatly Bruce ran to the medical wing, followed by Alfred. The creature had enlarged to the height of the ceiling as she yowled. Spotting the two males she snarled, but Bruce could see the fear in her eyes.

"You're okay," Bruce whispered as he put up his hands and stepped forward. "We aren't going to hurt you." She glanced over him before looking around the room more frantically, calling out in distress.

"Sir? Maybe they are looking for Batman?" Alfred theorized. Nodding, Bruce got the creature's attention.

"Hey, hey look at me," once the creature looked at him he pulled up his cowl. "It's me, I'm right here," he consoled. Her teeth clenched as tears dripped down her face. Shrinking to cat size she nestled into his chest and began sobbing. Her smaller wings wrapped around his torso as if trying to grab onto his as close as possible. Holding her like he did before he let his cap enclose her. Grunting he walked back out to the Batcomputer and sat down. Alfred watched as he began to type on the keyboard again, the creature resting under his cap, still clutching to Bruce he assumed.

"I am assuming you will be down here all night, Master Bruce?" Alfred raised a brow. The only response he got was a grumble. Nodded, the butler walked towards the elevator. "I will bring your breakfast down in the morning. Goodnight Master Bruce."

"Goodnight Alfred," Bruce mumbled, his attention fully on the screen in front of him. With that the elevator doors closed, leaving Bruce and the creature all alone in the Batcave.

"Do you have a name?" Bruce prompted after a few minutes of silence. The creature poked her head out of his cape and looked up at him with a tilt of her head.

"Hm?"

"Do you have a name?" He asked again while glancing down at her. He observed as the creature's ears flatted against her head.

"Yes and no..." she answered. "I do have a name, but they say I don't have a name," she mumbled out.

"Who's they?"

"The scientist," she whimpered. Putting one of his hands on top of her head he started petting her, all though he couldn't go very far down her neck thanks to her spikes.

"I don't care what the scientist say or think," he grunted as he looked back up at the computer, keeping his anger inside. She hummed before tucking back into his cap to curl up on his chest.

"Airis," she finally told him after minutes went by. Grunting in acknowledgment he continued typing. He continued long into the night, even after Airis had fallen asleep, he continued to try to find anything on the people who had done this to Airis.

#dc #batman #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #fanfic writers #fanfic #my sona #dragon sona #persona #danny phantom fanfic writers #danny phantom fanfic #help #writer help #i think its okay? #im pretty proud of it so far

[omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts]

A Siren Song

Pairing: Robert Dubois/ Bloodsport x Reader

A/N: so I just finished watching the new Suicide Squad for the second time and I’m even more obsessed now than I was the first time I watched it. It’s a brilliant film with actually good humor, a non-sexualizing and actually empowering view on Harley Quinn (that leg scene?? y'all-), the rats?? Rat-catcher 2?? THE SHARK?? FLAG?? Who looked really good in this movie, he might be another contender for a story as well as Harley Quinn so lmk ;) but Bloodsport immediately piqued my interest because it’s Idris Elba and he’s gorgeous, I loved the complexities of his character and I want to write for him and no one else has done it yet?? so shoutout to @honey-im-emotional​​ for the support and push to do it! also love The Bodyguard movie, helped with the inspo <3 and i’m so sorry all of my stories are similar but I HAVE A TYPE enjoy and feedback is always appreciated loves and there will be SPOILERS so be warned, also if you want a Harley one next lmk ;) (it’s so long I’m so sorry lol)

Summary: You’re a highly targeted member of the royal family, the last in your line. Bloodsport is hired to be your bodyguard to both watch and assassinate the men after you. He believes it’s below his pay-grade, but reluctantly agrees, doing so to the best of his abilities. But the closeness brings more intimacy than you two expected, and sparks fly.

Warnings: foul language, sexual content, smut, choking, light bdsm, fluffy fluff, dirty dancing, dirty talk, violence and bad guys getting murdered, mentions of Harley x Reader (y’all sexy dance and kiss), reader likes women, dom! Bloodsport, age gap, alcohol consumption, jealousy, heavy kissing, slight angst, just a good time honestly

Word Count: 3,825

You dangle from the ceiling with your aerial silk, fitting your leg in the loop you’ve created, and dangling upside down. The rope wraps around your waist as you hang gracefully from your marble walls, flying. Your friend Harley Quinn taught you how to do this years ago, it now being your favorite form of exercise and relaxation when you need a moment to clear your head. 

As you lightly spin, twirling and dancing in the air with your chandelier reflecting light everywhere, a dazzling fairy floating in a sea of stars. You hear footsteps approach and move to hang upside down, facing towards the grand door. Robert Dubois, a.k.a Bloodsport, walks forward to stand directly in front of you. 

You have known him a few weeks or so now, him having to watch your every move and tracking down your family’s killers. He stands and meets your eyes as you dangle, hair falling below you.

“Hi,” you giggle, face flushed with heat. “I probably look ridiculous right now.”

He composes himself so he doesn’t crack a smile, but you see his lips twitch when he speaks, “No, Mrs. y/l/n.”

“I have a first name, you know,” you grin widely. “I’m younger than you, which hardly warrants such a professional title.”

“My apologies, y/n,” he fixes himself.

“It’s alright,” you ease, filling him with a sense of softness he hasn’t felt in a long time. You flip and land on your feet, letting go of your silks. 

You don’t notice as his eyes glaze over your body in your sports bra and shorts, something his cold, calculated stare should never succumb to, but he does anyway and he kicks himself for doing it. You’re his client and should therefore remain as such, no conflict of interest or thoughts other than to protect. He didn’t want this job, hell, he still doesn’t know why he said yes. Maybe it was the money. Or maybe it was upon seeing you that first time, in that star-studded gown the night of a charity gala you were attending, the way the diamond littered fabric hung over your figure, absolutely dazzled. The way you looked at him and smiled, like you were used to with all the other nobles and adoring fans. But he let himself believe it was different.

He can’t do that anymore, however, because he can’t allow for any complications. And falling for his boss is certainly a complication. 

You look at him and your eyes widen with realization, “Oh, I’m sorry. Let me cover up.”

You grab a tee shirt and toss it over your exercise clothes. He looks down as you do so and clears his throat. This brings a small smile to your face.  

“You called me in here,” he gestures to the necklace charm hanging around your neck that you can squeeze and send an instant distress signal whenever you need it. “What can I do for you, y/n?”

“Wanted you to spot me,” you tease, a smile overtaking your delicate features. You have a sort of stunning beauty about you that takes him by surprise every time he lays eyes on you. Which is often. You lay on your yoga mat and sit up straight with that same damned smile. 

“I’m here to do a job, y/n,” he says, his deep, honeyed voice coating the way he says your name like heat to sugar. “Not aid you in your workout routine.”

“What? Your assassin training didn’t include sit ups?” you smile, tongue in cheek.

“No, but if you need a way to kill a man with a book,” he presses a foot over both of yours as you begin to do sit ups. “Then I’m your man.”

“Yeah, you and John Wick,” you breathe out with a laugh. “And shouldn’t you be in here watching me already? Not by the door?”

“This room has no windows and no other door or entrance besides the one I was standing by. I thought you would want privacy,” he averts your gaze. “I’m sure it’s a hard thing to come by these days for a woman like yourself.”

You stop what you’re doing and look up at him, blinking, “Well, you’d be right,” you tuck your hair back. “So thank you.”

He meets your eyes, bordering on a smile, “You’re welcome.”

“Is that a smile I see?” you chuckle.

The smile shines, “It was a diversion. And you failed.”

You laugh loudly, “Will the next diversion be an actual laugh?”

“Wouldn’t be a proper diversion if you knew what it was.”

You tap his feet so he’ll get the hint and let you up. You rise to your feet and dust yourself up, “I appreciate your spotting.” You press a hand to his chest and hum. Warmth radiates from your palm and he inhales sharply. “For someone who wasn’t trained, you sure are a fast learner.”

He looks at your hand and back to your eyes, heat sprouting from where your hand touches. His hand flexes at his side as he looks around the room, to the door, seeing if it’s closed. 

“I-” he cocks an eyebrow then settles. “I think I should go.”

He watches you look at him with wounded eyes, brow lowered, you open your mouth then close it. 

You nod, moving away from him, “Right.”

You move to walk away when he stops you, mouth by your ear, voice dropping an octave when he whispers, “Just so you know-” you tilt your head up almost instinctively to hear him better. “-my assassin training did include reminding people who they are when they’ve forgotten their place.”

You look up at him fully now, “You work for me, remember?”

“I work for money. And you didn’t hire me. I was employed by Mrs. Waller to keep you alive,” he cocks his head slightly. 

“So it would be frowned upon by her when you’re unable to walk if you touch me like that again.”

You couldn’t believe he had just said that. Your eyes widen and your cheeks once again heat up, blushing. Your chest gets hot when he doesn’t break the stare like he’s calling your bluff, and fuck, did he do just that. You turn away from him.

You can hear the smile in his voice, “That’s what I thought.”

~~~

“Robert said that!?” Harley exclaims, eyes wide. Her jaw is dropped as she does her mascara aggressively in the mirror. “He’s usually so...”

You tug down your tiny halter top over your head, your bright, flattering makeup complementing the colorful swirling pattern, “An empty void with no emotion?”

She nods emphatically, agreeing, “Exactly! I had no idea he had it in him?” she raises her brow and smooths down her leather black and red dress, “Or that he wanted to put it in you-”

You slap her arm, chastising, “You don’t know that. It might have been a threat to actually paralyze me in a very not sexual way.”

“I say both are arousing,” she shrugs, platinum curls bouncing.

You roll your eyes with a small smile aimed at the floor, “Anyway-” you slip a belt through your tight jeans, hitting at your waist when you cinch it in. “We should get going if we want to get to the club on time.”

She pauses. “Y/n. Are you sure we should be doing this?”

You do a double take, “You’re telling me that we shouldn’t sneak out and have a good time?”

“I know the irony is apparent,” she looks at you with a knowing stare. “But not if it means you’re in danger. Which you are.”

“I know,” you frown. “But I’ve been locked in this house for months, I miss going out and having a life. I’m tired of being coddled.”

“I know, sweetheart,” she sighs, looking past herself in the mirror to flash me a sympathetic smile. She thinks for a beat and finally spins around, “Alright, screw it, doll, let’s go paint the town.”

You buzz with excitement, grinning, “Yay! Thank you, thank you! I wonder who will be djaying...” you trail off. 

Harley’s face falls and her mouth goes in a solid, straight line, looking past your shoulder, “I don’t think anyone will be.”

You laugh, completely oblivious, “Of course there will be. There has to be music. Dancing in silence would be pretty fucking awkward.”

“This moment is pretty fucking awkward.”

“What do you mean?”

A deep, irritated voice sounds off behind you, “Because you’re not going.”

You jump out of your skin, “Shit, Robert! You scared the hell out of me!”

“You’re not going to that club,” he folds his arms over his chest. You look over him and his casual, night wear: a loose tee and low hanging joggers. You almost wipe your mouth from salivating. Your outfit elicits the same reaction.

You pinch your eyebrows together, “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Yes, I can. I’m tasked with protecting you.”

“Yeah. And nowhere on your job description does it say ‘become my parent’. There’s not an opening now just because I don’t have one. I am a grown ass woman and I have been a prisoner in my own home. The same home where...” you pause, a lump in your throat at the reminder of your family’s passing. You shake it off, “I’m just tired. I want a piece of my life back. You can either stay here or come. Either way I’m going.”

He gives you a quick once over and contemplates his options before dropping his arms to his sides and letting out a long exhale.

“Fine.”

You somewhat relax at his defeated tone, “Fine, what?”

He relents, “You can go, but I’m coming with you. But if anything happens to you, I’m not to be blamed. I will leave your ass in that club.”

You grin and jump up to give him a tight hug around the neck. He stiffens before slowly rubbing your back. You sink into his embrace, feeling like you were floating in water, now above the surface as he brings you back to oxygen. Harley smiles at the exchange and she winks theatrically. 

He glares. 

It’s not long before you three arrive at the club, music blaring and colorful lights flashing over the crowded floors. From his stare and intimidating aura, the club staff thought he was a bouncer and let you all in immediately. But before he was roped into working, the three of you bee-lined to the bar. 

“The prettiest and strongest drink ya got, sugar,” Harley smiles at the pretty bartender.

“And what if that’s me?” she responds, ebony hair falling onto one shoulder.

“Then I’ll have to drink you later,” Harley gives her a flirty once over and you roll your eyes.

The bartender grins and gestures towards me for my order, I answer quickly, “Scotch on the rocks.”

Robert looks at you, poorly covering his shocked expression. “Really?”

“Yeah, why?” you look up at him.

“Didn’t peg you for a straight liquor type, Ms. y/l/n,” he finally lets his hidden laugh show through, butterflies erupting in your chest. The diversion definitely worked, whatever you were thinking about before this has immediately left you.

“Then this is going to be the first surprise of many tonight, Mr. Dubois,” you return the smug look as he orders the same thing. You both share a look.

The bartender slides you all your drinks, each of you taking a long swig for liquid courage for the night. Harley’s favorite Doja Cat song comes on and she gasps, clapping excitedly when she grabs you by the wrist, pulling you on the dance floor, “Come dance with me.”

You mouth a small ‘sorry’ to Bloodsport who you left at the bar, he shakes his head with a smile over the rim of his glass, watching you guys’ drinks. 

She dances wildly, jumping up and down, spinning to let her hair fall in many beautiful angles. She’s a powerful force and your greatest friend. She puts her arms around your neck and the two of you move in time with the music.

“So...” she motions to Bloodsport who’s being forced into a conversation with a woman at the bar. The woman puts her hand on his and he visibly shrinks back and whispers something to her that causes the most horrid look from the woman and for her to walk quickly away. You smile at the relief that interaction has brought you.

“So what?” you spin her around and pull her back.

“Quit with the good dancing, or I’m gonna fuck you myself,” she teases with a lightheaded giggle.

You smile, “We’ve tried that already, remember?”

“Too much history, I know, I know. Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be nice...” she whispers into your neck, kissing the soft spot under your chin. Your skin heats up under her touch as she drags her hands down your sides, pulling you close to her so that you’re flush against her chest.

You give into her and kiss her slowly, her soft lips melt into your own when her hands tug in your hair. Harley and you have always had a complicated friendship, with enough sexual attraction to fuel a nuclear bomb, but not enough romantic. You love each other but not in the way you both need. You were in love with Robert and she is continuing to explore her sexuality because she likes women and so do you. So as she trails her hot mouth down your neck in the middle of dozens of bustling bodies and you lock eyes with an angry Bloodsport, you knew exactly what she was doing.

You whisper, out of breath, “Are you trying the jealousy trick?”

“It worked in college, didn’t it?” she kisses your cheek, smiling gently against your skin. “And it’s working now.”

“I think you’re just obsessed with kissing me,” you kiss her back.

“It was a win-win situation, doll,” she grins devilishly and you can’t help but agree. “So when you’re done with him, come see me. But right now, I have a sexy bartender lady to drink up.” You grip her hand and let her make her way to her next conquest.

Robert had seen the tail-end of your kiss, his deft fingers clenched around his whiskey glass. He knows he shouldn’t let this sort of thing affect him, something as juvenile and simple as jealousy. But he couldn’t stop that feeling of being stuck, unable to think about anything except the fact that it wasn’t him with his hands on you like that, lips marking you as much as he pleases. Sadness washed over him in a tidal wave and he set his glass down, about to get up to leave when he spotted a man eyeing you from the door. He looked familiar and it wasn’t just attraction he sensed in his eyes but something far more sinister.

A few more men followed suit and began making their way to you in the middle of the dance floor. He had no time to consider the facts, just to get you out of there as soon as possible. 

You feel a rough hand tug your arm and turn to face who you think to be Dubois, you smile, “Enjoy the show?”

“Very much,” an unknown voice answers, and you look up, eyes wide. “Now why don’t you come with me for a little talk, beautiful.”

“Get the fuck off of me,” you yank your arm back, slamming your heel down into the perpetrator’s foot. More men surround you on all sides, making it impossible for you to escape or use your subpar martial arts skills. Aerial yoga was a very different ballpark than kicking ass. And you were just a beginner.

You poorly punch a man in the face, only making them all angrier when you’re grabbed from all sides, being dragged towards the exit kicking and screaming. You didn’t want to be that helpless damsel in distress, but as all of these men, men you recognized from your family’s death, were surrounding you, you couldn’t breathe. Their hands felt familiar, grabbing your arms like they’d done that night before you hid in the secret door in the dining room. You had watched these faceless men through a hole in that door, stifling your cries when bullets sprayed the room your family was having dinner in. So while they were coming after you and pulling you outside, it’s all you felt. That same feeling when he wasn’t near.

Drowning.

There’s a hand that pulls you back and you watch, dazed, as Bloodsport puts every man who touched you on the ground. It’s filled with swift yet aggressive and barbaric movements, controlled, expert chaos and it happens within moments. His chest is heaving when he looks down at you and scoops you up in his arms. You’d object in any other circumstances, but this time, head against his chest and tucked in his arms, you were okay.

His voice rumbles against your side, “We’re going home.”

~~~

Harley’s tears hit your shoulder as you sympathetically pat her back.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I shouldn’t have left,” she sniffles loudly. “I should’ve been there.”

You laugh softly, fitting your head into her shoulder, “It’s okay, Harls. It’s not your fault, there was no harm done.”

“There could have been,” she sighs. “I’m not letting you convince me to go out next time, you’re staying here forever.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, “Alright.”

She gets up and sniffs, wiping at her nose that’s now flushed from crying, “Good because I’m serious.”

“I know,” you laugh again, hugging yourself in a hoodie much too large for you, (because you stole it from Rick Flagg) swallowing you whole. 

Your eyes wander down the hall to where Robert is no doubt pacing around in your bedroom, the only room not laden with cameras (ironically for privacy). You kick at the floor in your fuzzy socks and think of an excuse to go check on him, even though you’re probably the last person he wants to see right now. You, frankly, don’t care.

“I’m gonna go-” 

“Check on Robert?” she finishes. “I know, honey. I was a psychiatrist, I’m not stupid.”

You crack a smile and grip her arm affectionately as you walk past her towards the bedroom. You don’t even take the risk of knocking for fear he’ll lock it and try your luck with just simply opening it. You see him, shirtless with a towel over his shoulder, a low hanging towel wrapped around his waist, while nursing his knuckles. He looks you over once you enter the room, trained eyes on you and the intimidation is definitely working already when he takes the damp towel on his shoulder and dabs the cuts on his skin.

He remains silent and you move to sit down on your bed, the awkward squeak filling the already high-tension atmosphere, thick enough to make your ears pop like you’re in an airplane too far up in the sky.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, drawing his eye. 

He hums and steps into your bathroom, washing off his hands. 

You frown at his lack of response, “Are you really going to pout this whole time? Because honestly, it’s beneath you, Robert.” You lean forward, watching as he walks out of the bathroom, still half naked, still silent. 

The silence is beginning to slowly kill you, especially when he looks this good, water droplets running down his chiseled torso from a hot shower. You didn’t let your mind wander because if the reaction your body is giving from the image before you was any indication, you want him. He walks in the room once again, mouth in an amused yet firm line. 

In actuality, he was ashamed of himself. Not so much of you. He would’ve left as that despair overcame him back in that bar. He would’ve left you there and abandoned his mission, leaving you to be hurt. If it hadn't been for those men, you could’ve been killed and it would be his fault. He alerted Waller of the attack, making up a lie about the two of you going for a walk at night and getting ambushed there rather than at a club. There’s a hit on each of those men being taken out as we speak as well as a search for their boss. Even though that still got him chewed out. He couldn’t imagine what she’d do to him if she found out the truth.

Robert walks slowly towards you, leaning against the bed frame, gesturing for you to continue. You watch him, distracted, as he wraps a bandage around his knuckles.

“I shouldn’t have kissed her to get a rise out of you, that was hurtful,” you exhale your words, quiet enough he wouldn’t be able to hear you if you weren’t within a breath of one another. You hang your head, “And it was stupid to go out in the first place when I am in this much danger. I could’ve been killed, and you could have been hurt. I’m sorry.”

He represses a laugh at the idea of him getting hurt, when the two of you both know that would never happen. But as the silence from him grows thicker, the more you start to ramble.

“Okay, this silent treatment isn’t going to work for much longer. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you need to stop.”

He gives you a look that says ‘make me’. But you both know you couldn’t if you tried, and vice versa. He thinks of you as a siren, one of those alluring creatures in old sailor tales that lured unsuspecting men to their painful deaths. As if he has no control of the way he feels about you. Which in a way he does, but he knows better. He knows better than to fall under your enchanting song, but he can’t help but be pulled beneath the surface of the water. 

Robert tenses when you move forward and the hoodie falls off one of your shoulders, revealing more of your chest, the smooth skin that lays there. 

His chest tightens when you look up at him and sigh.

“But thank you for saving me,” you say, both because you think that’s what he wants to hear but also because you mean it, you wouldn’t be here at all if he didn’t come with you.

He licks his lips and nods his head in simple recognition. He appreciated the apology, truly he did, but a part of him enjoyed the way you continued to ramble on, so he remained silent. This was an old interrogation tactic he learned when he served, keeping quiet always got people talking. He looks down at you and leans to meet your face, hands on either side of you. 

“I don’t know what else you wish for me to say,” you admit quietly, fiddling with your hands.

He didn’t know either but whatever you would say, he would listen.

“So I take it you’re not mad anymore?” you infer from his relaxed posture, heart beating out of your chest, fast enough that it catapults to your throat. 

He tilts his head down so he’s an inch before your mouth, breath fanning over your face. when he tugs you up to your feet, hands gripping the sides of your waist when he pulls you close. Your heartbeats began to sync up, chest to chest.

“I’m fucking furious, sweetheart.”

You meet his eyes, looking up in that seductive stare of yours you never knew you were capable of until him, and close the distance, kissing him lightly. His arms falter by your side and it’s the first time you’ve seen him hesitate, losing his cool. It’s the most gentle thing he’s ever experienced, everything in his life being forced, hostile, and malicious, while your soft lips against his are anything but. You kiss him like he’s not the monster he thinks himself to be. 

“Then let me make it up to you.”

“Fuck,” he grips your sides harder, palm moving to push you closer with his hand flat against the small of your back. “We shouldn’t.”

You search his face for uncertainty, but all you sense is a profound sense of clarity, in the both of you. “I know.”

“Will you regret this?”

You shake your head, hand against his cheek, “No.”

His dark eyes fall to your lips, pupils filling his dark brown irises, lust blown, “You’re so good, baby. You’re too good for me.”

Before you can tease him about the new nickname and object to that, his lips have crashed against your own. His hand slides up to cup the side of your face, drinking you in with his intoxicating kiss. You hum, content, against his feverish mouth and he opens it, vulnerable and on display. You feel his guard still up, tense and calculated, so you rest your hand against his chest. You press a kiss to his eyelid, his cheek, his nose, his chin, his jaw, his neck. He softens beneath you, groaning aloud as his hands tighten. 

“You don’t need to be afraid with me,” you whisper to him, tender fingers trailing down his shirtless chest, hot skin against hot skin. It’s enough to make you sweat.

He exhales and captures your bottom lip with his own, holding your face in both of his hands. The kiss grows heated and rushed, like you’re running out of time, as if at any moment those men would come back and find you and take you away from him again. His tongue expertly works with your own, licking the pout of your bottom lip, and coaxing you open. He slides his hand down between your legs, dipping his finger to find the slick in the middle of your thighs. You moan into his mouth, his other hand at the back of your neck when he buries his face in your shoulder. He kisses you there, the crook where your neck meets your collarbone, that damned sensitive spot. You succumb to his touch. His beard tickles your skin and you gasp when he sucks hard, a bruise forming.

You breathe a laugh, “Everyone will see if you leave a mark,” you tug on his hair when you thread it through his coarse curls. 

He falls under your spell and there’s something so ironically beautiful about this trained assassin with a heart of gold and the scars to show for it, being so open with you.

His hands, his entire life, have been forced to be instruments of death and violence. But as they slide down your figure, holding your face, and pulling you into him, they’re his greatest gift. He’s surprisingly tender with you. 

But then he has enough and pushes you down on the bed, arms trapping you on both sides.

He responds bluntly, “I don’t care.”

You part your legs for him and he releases a shaky breath. He slowly unzips your sweatshirt and it falls off you just as you do the same and tug his towel down. Both of you are bare before the other as you take a moment to drink each other in. You were just as, if not more, beautiful than he imagined you to be. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says quietly as his hand drapes down the line of your figure. He touches you how someone would handle a glass vase filled with flowers. 

You take his face in both of your hands and kiss him, “So are you.” 

“I don’t think you know what you do to me, baby.” His hand finds your breast and squeezes while he kisses your neck.

You moan when he uses his other hand to grip your neck, thumb against your pulse point, “If it’s anything like how I feel right now, then yes, I do.”

He lifts his head up to watch your face as he chokes you, softly so he doesn’t hurt you but hard enough to play with your breath. His thumb opens your mouth and your legs tremble. 

“So I take it you’re into choking, my love?” You nod excitedly, unable to speak, and his grip tightens. 

You let out a squeak and he releases, face etched with worry, kissing your neck where he touched you. “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry.” 

You shake your head and smile comfortingly, “No, baby, I’m okay. I’ll tap out if it’s too rough, I promise,” you tease.

His grumbling voice deepens, “Good... because, darling, right now all I want to do is bury my face in between those gorgeous thighs of yours.”

You inhale sharply when he opens your legs once again, looking up at you and you nod in consent.

“I need words, beautiful,” he smirks with his mouth just above your center. 

“Yes, please,” you breathe out and he responds with a swift lick to your pussy. He looks up at you and when he catches your eye, it’s as if the sensation grows stronger and your head hits your pillow.

“I’ve barely even touched you,” he mumbles into you and you feel his smug smile in your thigh. His fingers dip into you as he flattens his tongue and crooks them towards himself, you grip your sheets.

“Don’t... flatter yourself,” you sigh out. “I-it’s just been awhile.”

He removes his mouth and fingers from you, “So anyone can make you feel like this?”

You enjoy the feeling you get when he looks at you like that, his eyes dark and dominant, so you play along and nod. “Yes, in fact, I’ve had better.”

He licks his lips and gets up from the bed. He opens his drawer and you sit up to look what he grabs: a belt. Your heart beats excitedly in your chest even though you know you shouldn’t be. He gets back on the bed and climbs over you.

Robert looks at you, “Hands.”

You extend them to him wordlessly, watching as he ties your wrists together and puts them over the bedpost so you’re trapped there, unable to move.

“Now,” he holds himself above you, pressing a kiss to your lips. “You’re to stay tied up until I say so, anything like that again and they get tighter. Nod if you understand me.”

You nod emphatically. You had never seen this side of Robert before, so in control and not afraid to go too far, it was so unbelievably sexy. 

The best part was he didn’t tie it tight enough, afraid of hurting you, so you could easily slip out your hands at any moment.

He kisses, painfully slow, down your chest and wraps his lips around your nipple. He swirls his tongue around the erect bud and you gasp, desperate to touch him. He looks up at you from you chest as he switches to the other, massaging the unattended one as he sucks, the pleasurable feeling overwhelming you. So much so you have to clench your thighs together, longing for some sort of relief for the tension building in your abdomen.

“Baby, please,” you whine, squirming beneath him.

He shuts you up with a bruising kiss while his hand slips down to enter you, two fingers in already. He pumps them in and out of you before sliding back down the expanses of your body and letting his mouth latch onto your clit. He sucks hard and you stifle a loud moan that would surely alert everyone in the home of your arousal. He holds you down against the bed with a palm flat against your stomach as you begin to lift your pelvis. His tongue enters you while his fingers take over, stimulating you with gentle rubs and flicks. But just before you feel that euphoric release, his actions cease and you’re left hot and flustered. 

“Robert,” you look at him with a deep frown.

He grins, “Y/n...”

You blow hair out of your eyes, “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” He puts his lips near your ear, “Are you ready?” You nod as he pushes himself inside you and you bite back a moan into his shoulder. 

You finally have enough, slip your hands out, and he pinches his brow, unable to hide his shock before you bring him down to press your lips against his. He melts into you, arms wrapped around you while he holds you close, filling you out in all the right places. He quickens his pace and you whine into his mouth, nails digging into his skin. You wrap your legs around his torso and he hits you so nicely. He was right, it’s the best you’ve ever had. He rises and looks at you, lips swollen and red from kissing, eyes clear and pupils large, and face flushed with heat. Your hair is in messy tendrils at all angles and you’ve never been more attractive.

“You’re doing so good,” he praises in your ear, placing kisses across your jaw. “Taking my cock so well.”

You whimper and his movements stiffen as he approaches release and so do you, walls tightening around him. He reaches down and rubs your clit with his expert fingers. You finish together, mouths open and hands all over each other’s bodies. It overcomes you in a tingling, perfect sensation, it continues on, leaving you aching and wanting more.

He rubs his knuckles over your cheek, softly and adoringly he looks at you. You tuck yourself into his arms under the blankets. Everything you both have wanted for a long time, laying right in front of you.

“Still want to make me not walk?” you tease, looking up at him.

He kisses your eyelids and you giggle, “Fuck yes.”

Part 2?

#harley quinn #harley quinn x reader #rick flagg #bloodsport #bloodsport x reader #robert dubois x reader #robert dubois #idris elba #suicide squad #suicide squad 2 #dc #dc smut #dc fanfiction #fanfiction #smut

[travistheaussie]

Netflix and Chill

Chris Jamal EvansxBlack!Reader

Warnings: slight degredation, breeding kink, dirty talk, m receiving, fingering, creampie, Chris being a little freak 

A/N: I have been absolute trash at getting fics out and to the people that bother reading, I apologize! Being an adult sucks absolute ass. Anyways, I’ve decided to write about Chris Jamal Evans because why not? Hope you enjoy!

==============================================================

You’d been swiping left and right on Tinder for what seemed like hours as you sat on your couch on an uneventful Saturday evening. You’d matched with quite a few men, but somehow you got the ones that were trying for a relationship. How does that even happen? Tinder was supposed to be for hookups. You weren’t about that life right now. What you were looking for was a good, decent fuck. Maybe a wine and dine beforehand, but that wasn’t really all that important. You need dick and you were going to get it tonight one way or the other to save you from a boring night of staring at the TV.

Just then, you stumbled upon the profile of a guy named Chris. You swiped through his pictures and instantly became soaked by the sight of him. They were typical fuckboy pictures, but you could care less because this man was fine. Especially with the buzzed hair and slight stubble he had going on. His eyes were to die for too. They were the most beautiful shade of blue you had ever seen. You couldn’t even get started on his body. It was perfect. The tattoos that covered his torso made you want to lick all all over him. Fuck, you had to have him and you prayed that you guys would match.

After a few more minutes of gawking, you finally swiped right, and thank the Lord, you two matched. You went over to the message section on the app and saw bubbles pop up on screen. The two of you went over the basic introductions before Chris started getting a little bold. He asked for your phone number and when you gave it to him, he instantly called.

“What’s up, girl?” He greeted.

“Chillin’ at home, bored as fuck. What you getting into?” You asked. 

“About to kick back and watch a movie. Be nice if I had some company.”

“Oh really?” You smirked. “Are you implying that you want to Netflix and Chill?”

He let out a husky laugh. “I guess I am. You game?”

Did he even have to ask? Of course you were. You wanted to get in his pants bad. You told him to text you his address before hanging up to get ready. You went to your bedroom and put on a pair of Nike joggers and a cropped hoodie then toed on a pair of slides. Then you went to the bathroom to make sure you hair was done up right. You skipped on makeup since you were just going over to “watch a movie”. You didn’t wear much anyhow since you didn’t really feel the need for it most days. You were comfortable in your own skin. 

Once he sent his address, you hopped in the car and made the twenty minute drive to his place. You pulled up to his house and parked your car in the driveway then made your way up to the door. You knocked and the door swung open. Somehow, you got even more aroused at seeing this man in person. He wore nothing but a pair of loose sweats and a tight wifebeater. His arms were bulging as he held onto the doorway and you swear you were salivating at the view.

Chris gave you a once over, biting his lip as he did so, before looking into your eyes, a smile on his face. “Hey, gorgeous.”

“Hey, yourself.” You replied. “You gonna let me in or what?”

“My apologies, darlin’.” He stepped aside. “Come right in.”

You entered his home and looked around when you went through the foyer. It was your basic bachelor pad, but it was thankfully clean. The living room had a big couch and a giant flat screen mounted on the wall. There were a couple empty beer cans on the coffee table along with some chew toys littered across the floor.

You heard claws scraping against the wood floor and all of a sudden, a dog was jumping all over you. You giggled and began petting him behind the ears.

“I see you met Dodger.” Chris said. 

“He’s adorable.” You smiled, watching as Dodger made his way over to Chris.

Chris leaned down patted him on his side. “Too bad he can’t stick around to watch the movie with us. It’s his bedtime and I think we’ll be a little too busy to pay attention to him. Dodger, bedtime!”

Dodger obediently made his way upstairs, but not without grabbing a stuffed lion to take with him.You turned to Chris, a sly smile on your face. “Oh, we’ll be too busy, will we?”

“Yeah, I think we will.” Chris said huskily. “Go ahead and pick a movie. I’m gonna grab some beers.”

You settled in on the couch and started surfing through Netflix while Chris disappeared into the kitchen. Once he returned, you had a movie picked out and waited for him to get situated. He took a seat right next to you and handed you a beer, which you gladly took. 

“You ready?” You asked, looking up the bigger man.

Chris sunk down in his seat and widened his legs, pretty much manspreading beside you. He took a swig of his drink before responding. “Fire it up, girl.”

After pressing play, you put the remote to the side and relaxed into the couch, nursing your beer. The two of you sat in comfortable silence watching the film for the next thirty minutes. Then you noticed Chris glancing over at you every now and again. And you knew exactly what that meant so you decided to call him out on it.

“Why you keep looking over at me?” You smirked. 

“What you mean?” He questioned, looking you up and down seductively, licking his lips.

“You keep turning your head over here and the way you looking at me right now makes me think you’re about to do something.”

Chris chuckled, turning back to the TV for a second before looking back at you. “Oh yeah? What do you think I’m gonna do, huh?”

“I don’t know, Chris. You tell me.” You replied.

“I wanna see what’s under that hoodie.” He shrugged.

You rolled your eyes, feigning annoyance, and pulled your hoodie off. You wore nothing but a bra underneath. Chris groaned and scooted even closer to you before wrapping his hand around the back of your neck and pulling you into a kiss. His tongue swiped across your lower lip and you moaned, grabbing his shoulders. You opened your mouth, inviting him in, and he intertwined his tongue with yours. The kiss was rough, sloppy, and oh so hot, and now your panties were completely drenched. God, this man could kiss like no other. 

Chris grabbed your hand and placed it over his crotch. You internally gasped at the feeling of his thick cock. It felt like a monster and you were dying to see it. You stroked him through his sweats and Chris moaned into the kiss, grabbing one of your breasts and squeezing it. You broke the kiss and whimpered quietly at the feeling of his hand on you. He sat back with a hiss, moving his hand from your breast to your clothed center as he watched you stroke him. 

“Goddamn, baby.” He breathed, rubbing his thick fingers over your pussy. “Take the rest of your clothes off.”

“What about you?” You asked.

He sat up and pulled off the wifebeater he wore then pulled his sweats down to his thighs, letting his cock spring out, already leaking precum. Taking himself in hand, he stroked himself slowly, watching you as you began to rid yourself of the rest of your clothes. Once you were completely naked, Chris cursed under his breath and reached out with his free hand to touch you. His hand stroked up your tummy before reaching your breasts, tweaking your nipples. You moaned out and took his balls in your hand, kneading them softly. Chris groaned, widening his legs more, then leaned over and kissed you again.

“You gonna suck Daddy’s dick?” He said on your lips between kisses.

Oh shit. How did he know you had a daddy kink? That was your biggest weakness and him just saying the word had you creating a puddle underneath you. You whimpered and nodded your head then sank to your knees between his thick legs. You grabbed his cock and licked the tip then went to the other side, soaking him in your spit. Chris moaned, placing his hand on the back of your neck. 

“Don’t tease, baby. I’ve been hard since you walked in the door.” He said huskily, eyes heavily lidded. “Take me in your mouth like a good girl.”

You obeyed and started sucking him in earnest and what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, you stroked in a twisting motion, causing Chris to twitch slightly. You pulled off of him and went lower, sucking his big balls into your mouth while you continued jerking him.

“Just like that, babygirl. Fuck, you feel so good.” He moaned out. “Keep sucking my balls.”

You felt his hand fall away from your neck and you looked up at him to see his head leaned back and eyes shut. You could tell he was getting close. He was breathing heavy and his legs were starting to shake a bit. When you started sucking on his tip again, he grunted and his hips jerked up. Soon, he was pushing you off him.

“Don’t wanna cum yet.” He panted, standing on slightly shaky legs. “Lay down on the couch.”

You did as you were told and lied back against the couch, your head resting against the arm. You watched Chris’s cock swing between his legs as pried yours open and kneeled between them. He looked down at your soaked pussy and hummed lowly biting his lower lip.

“Such a pretty little pussy.” He said before licking his fingers and rubbing your clit. “Can’t wait to get my cock in there.”

You moaned loudly, both at his fingers and his words. “I want you in me, Daddy.”

“Yeah? You want me in there?” 

“Mhm.” You nodded then threw your head back when he inserted two of his fingers.

“Gotta stretch you out first, baby. You’re so fuckin’ tight.” His other hand went down to lazily stroke himself while he fingered you. “Wanna wreck this little pussy so bad though. Make your toes curl.”

His dirty talk got you so close to the edge, but before you could cum, Chris pulled his fingers out of you. He placed his free hand on your knee and just stared down at you while he continued stroking himself. Your pussy clenched around nothing and he groaned at the sight. You brought your hands up to your tits, squeezing them and rolling your nipples with your fingers.

He looked up at your chest and you could swear his blue eyes got darker. “Fuck, baby. You ready for Daddy to fuck you?”

“Yes, Daddy.” You whimpered. “Want your fat cock in me.”

Chris grabbed the backs of your knees and pushed them up to your chest before tapping his cock against your folds then sliding in to the hilt. You gasped and your eyes screwed shut at the feeling of being so full. He gave you a moment to adjust before starting to move. He moved slowly at a first, dragging his cock out then slamming in deep, making you cry out. 

“Harder, Daddy.” You gasped, getting close again.

“Oh yeah. Daddy’s about to tear you up.” That was all he needed to hear before he started fucking into you harder.

His balls slapped against your ass as he roughly pounded in you and you were close to your climax. When he started hitting your spot, you stiffened and let go, soaking his cock in your juices. Chris let out a wanton groan at the sight of you cumming all over his dick, twitching inside of you. 

“Fuck, you’re so nasty.” He panted. “I fuckin’ love it. Want you to cum again.”

You had never cum that hard so quick before. He was touching places inside you that nobody has ever reached. Chris was stroking into you so deep and hard and with the way he was rolling his hips around as he did so was getting you close again. He let go of your legs and leaned over you, wrapping a hand around your neck and the grabbed your hair, pulling slightly. He bent down and sealed his lips over yours, groaning into your mouth as he kept the same pace. You ran your hands through his buzzed hair, scratching at his scalp. Then your hands went to his chest, rubbing over his nipples and down his hairy torso, feeling his abs contract when you went lower.

“You like that dick?” He pulled away from the kiss, looking into your eyes. “Tell me you like it, bitch.”

This man was going to fucking ruin you. “I love it, Daddy. Love that big dick pounding me!”

“You’re gonna cum on this fuckin’ dick again, yeah? Soak Daddy with your pussy juice?” He said lowly, biting your lip.

You eagerly nodded, eyes rolling in the back of your head when he started grinding his hips into you. “I’m so close, Daddy!”

“Cum for Daddy, bitch. Cum all over me.” He demanded, reaching down to rub your throbbing clit.

Your entire body stiffened, hitting your peak once again. Chris watched as you shook beneath him and his rhythm began to falter. He started grinding into sloppily, chasing his own release.

“Fuck, I’m about to cum.” He moaned, looking into your eyes. “You on birth control?”

You nodded lazily as you scratched at his scalp. “Put it in me.”

Chris let out a shuddering pant. “Oh, I’m gonna fill this pussy up. Tell me you want it, baby. Tell me.”

“Give me that load, Daddy. Want you to fill me up with that hot cum.” You urged, bringing his head down to lick at his neck.

He moaned loudly in your ear and laid down on top of you, wrapping his arms around your torso to pull you against him. With every thrust, he was letting out these hot little grunts that had your pussy squeezing him tight. That sent him over the edge and with a few more deep thrusts, he stilled inside you. You could feel his cock twitching intensely inside you as he filled you with his hot load. Chris pulled you tighter against him, holding you tight. 

After a few moments of him catching his breath, he slowly pulled away from you and sat up, looking down at where you two were joined. “Fuck, that’s so hot.”

You looked down and laughed softly at the mess you both made. Chris carefully pulled out of you and groaned when he saw his cum leaking out of you. He leaned over and grabbed his wifebeater and began to wipe you off before tossing it to the side and laying back on the other side of the couch, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“That was amazing.” He commented, looking over at you. “You got really good pussy.”

“Well, thank you.” You replied while redressing.

Chris grabbed his sweats and put them back on before grabbing his beer and taking a sip. He watched you get dressed and pull on your shoes. “Hopefully this isn’t the only time we hook up.”

“Isn’t that what Tinder is for? One time hookups?” You questioned.

“I mean, yeah. Ninety-nine percent of the time.” He responded. “But I’d like this to happen again.”

You laughed. “Oh, god. Please tell me you haven’t caught feelings already, Christopher.”

“I don’t catch feelings, alright?” He smirked. “I do, however, refuse to fuck someone like you just once.”

You giggled, shaking your head, before making your way toward the door with Chris in tow. He opened it for you and you stepped out onto the porch. You turned back to him, catching the man checking you out once again.

“Seriously, let me know if you need some dick again. I’m always down.” He smirked.

“I might. Don’t be blowing up my phone though. Shit’s annoying.” You said.

“I won’t.” He stepped forward and gave you peck on the lips. “Be careful gettin’ home, alright?”

“I will.”

With that, you made your way to your car and got into the driver’s seat. You sat back and thought about what just transpired. Chris was very dangerous, and while you haven’t caught feelings, you were definitely sprung. 

A/N: This is probably shit, but please let me know if you liked it! Reblog, make a note, whatever!

#chris evans smut #chris evans #captain america #steve rogers #chris jamal evans #the avengers #avengers

[gallickingun]

legacy || dragon prince!kirishima

SUMMARY: After an arranged marriage to the Prince of Dragons, Kirishima Eijirou, you decide you do not want to live your life in a loveless relationship, so you attempt to get to know him. After some time, you realize that he was keeping something very important from you. How are you supposed to help him if he won’t come clean?

PAIRING: Dragon Prince!Kirishima x Princess!Reader RATINGS: M/E+ WARNINGS: language, smut, breeding kink (so much breeding), etc. WORD COUNT: 13.5k+

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | mobile | writing tag

Author’s Note: This is a prompt fill for THESE prompts that I just couldn’t chill out with. I didn’t want this to get confused with @makoodles​ Dragon Dick Kiri! This Kirishima has normal anatomy 👀 but go give her’s a read as well, it’s so frickin’ good. 

༶•┈⛧ ┈♛ ♛ ┈⛧┈•༶

An arranged marriage to the Prince of Dragons wasn’t how you saw the start of the rest of your life going.

You expected to have more time before you would be called to responsibility, to the throne, to your people. You wanted to live your life, to frolic through the meadows and taste the sweet mead drinks the cooks are always going on about. You wanted to be free.

You did not want to find yourself forced into a white dress, a bunch of flowers in your hand, as you recite the sacred betrothal vows to a man you’ve never met before.

His name is Kirishima Eijirou.

At least he’s handsome.

And beyond his good looks, Kirishima has a charming air about him as well. He is kind to all the servants and never asks for their help unless it’s entirely required. He even goes so far as to request separate bedrooms for the two of you, knowing exactly what might be expected of you if you were to sleep together.

When you approached him about it, he bowed his head, “I know that you did not enter this matrimony by choice, milady. I would hate to force you into anything you did not ask for.”

You would be lying if you denied that your heart skipped a beat.

Kirishima makes himself useful around the castle, tending to the gardens with the other landscapers, using his enhanced strength and hard, scaly skin to chop down trees and uproot stumps. He even brings the ladies in the kitchen spices from other parts of the kingdom and animals that the other hunters had not been able to slay.

His fierce instincts and amazing strength have made him quite the match for the kingdom; almost as if he were exactly what you needed. The citizens have never been more excited for a new king to rise, practically salivating as Kirishima passes through the town on his daily walks. You watch on from your tower window, leaning over the edge of the cobblestone to squint as you make out his bulky frame mounting a horse and exiting the castle gates.

Many a night passes and you feel uneasy at the distance between you. He is your husband, and yet you are sure that you have not had a conversation lasting more than a few syllables with him. You are sure that even the commoners know him better than you do.

Everyone in the kingdom adores Kirishima, although they could care less for the mouthy knight he’s brought along with him. A blonde, stout man you’ve come to know as Bakugou Katsuki. He is Kirishima’s protector and right-hand, following him around like a shadow, throwing his opinions and criticisms out with little care to the sensitive ears they may fall upon.

“Bakugou?” you ask one afternoon, crossing your arms as you stand beside him, Kirishima helping to dig trenches using his scaled, hardened hands. You tilt your head to consider the blonde, your irises finding a crimson color, harsh and unbending, much unlike your betrothed’s warm gaze, “Does Kirishima care for me?”

His throat bobs and a strangled sound comes from it, “Excuse me?”

“Kirishima keeps his distance from me,” you muse, licking your lips as you turn from him to focus on the man you find yourself fascinated with even more as each day passes. “I just want to know if he is uncomfortable around me.”

“That’s one word for it.”

You unceremoniously smack his arm, “Stop being belligerent and answer me!”

“Bloody hell,” Bakugou takes a step away from you, “yes, Kirishima is uncomfortable around you, but not for the reason you think, wench.”

Your narrowed eyes spur him to speak again, “He thinks fondly of you, if that’s what you wish to know. Eijirou just has a strange way of showing it. Now, can we please stop talking about this emotional shit?”

There is no answer from your lips, only the absence of your presence at his side. Bakugou huffs out a relieved sigh and watches as you hitch your skirt up and run towards his friend and ruler. He shakes his head when you stumble into Kirishima’s arms, rolling his eyes as he begins his afternoon patrol of the grounds.

“Whoa,” the prince’s arms are sturdy as he catches you before you can face plant into the trench he’s dug, “are you okay?”

Your body relishes in the warmth he provides, fingers clinging onto his shoulders, feeling the ridges of the hard, corded muscle beneath you, “Y-Yes, I am fine! I need to ask you something, though.”

“Yes, Princess?” Kirishima, ever the gentleman, holds you steady, guiding you back to some sense of normalcy. He is fighting a smile at your bedraggled appearance, the corners of his lips twitching as he looks down his nose at you, the black metal guard around his face making his features even more sharp.

The core of you churns with molten lava at the sight of his handsome features, the tendrils of smoke from the sloshing heat curling up your throat until it forces your mouth open, “W-Would you like to go for a picnic?”

Kirishima has never looked more surprised and amused. His hand absentmindedly rubs over your elbow and bicep, sending small jolts of electricity through to your bones until you can feel them rattling around in the cage of your body. He stutters when he speaks, “A-A picnic? As in, eating together? A-Alone?”

“Yes,” you flush, your cheeks burning brightly at the confession, “I think we’ve earned a little time away, don’t you think?”

His face goes the same color as his hair, his pink tongue passing over his lower lip as he considers you, shifting uncomfortably from foot-to-foot as he chooses his words wisely, “Princess, you don’t have to humor me. I know my place.”

“Your place is with me,” you bolster your spine so you can look him in the eyes, barely distracted by the small scales that cover his temples and jawline. “And I want to know my husband. Is that a crime? Shall you have me thrown in the dungeon?��

The black pupils in the center of his orbs dilate, his shoulders shifting as he considers your words and your tone. Kirishima shakes his head after he’s processed what you’re saying, taking a step closer so your chest almost brushes his when you take heaving breaths, “No, I think it sounds like a wonderful idea. How does veal and fruit sound?”

“Like heaven.”

It is not much later in the afternoon when Kirishima stops by the stables to collect you, a woven wicker basket cradled in one of his hands, full to the brim with a plethora of things hidden under the lid. He packs the basket and a few blankets onto the backside of the horse that he brought with him when he merged his belongings with yours. He pats the horse’s backside, “All right, Red. Be nice. This is the princess you’re carrying.”

You laugh, covering your mouth with your palm as you step forward. Your free hand brushes over Red’s snout and down her mane, “And that’s the prince, you know. Precious cargo.”

“I’ll be fine, I’ve got my thick skin,” he shrugs, reaching out a hand for you to take, “plus Red knows I’m the one with the sugar cubes, so she’ll be sweet on me.”

Your palm rests in his as you stride towards him, the proximity of your bodies now intoxicating as his natural heat radiates between the two of you. The base of your throat bobs as emotion gathers in your esophagus, cutting off your breathing. Your eyes flutter somewhere between open and closed when you try to look at him directly, unable to focus when he’s so close to you.

Kirishima is no small man, your eye-level meeting his collarbones. His hands dwarf yours easily, his stout body thick with muscle and sinew, dense bones holding him together. You suppose it’s thanks to his animalistic ancestry.

Each kingdom descended from some form of ancient animal, and Kirishima’s was the dragons. And so, he inherited the qualities of that very beast, starting with his intense body heat and the scales that litter his skin in small patches. They are black in color at a first glance, but when he shifts beneath the sunbeams, you notice they have a red iridescence to them. You are thankful to find that he has no tail or snout, saving those features for a much more human-looking set.

Kirishima rests his palms on your hips, almost able to wrap his digits completely around the circumference of your waist as he hoists you onto his horse. His quaking digits roam down the thick of your thigh, thumbs brushing up against the skin to treasure it. You have to stop yourself from keening into his touch, seeming desperate, by white knuckling your hands around the saddle.

He clambers up after you, slinging one leg before propping himself up to rest behind you. Leaning forward, he grabs the reigns, his chest pressing firmly into your back. You force yourself to regulate your breathing, the scent and feel of him making your head dizzy. Kirishima scoots forward and the curve of his crotch is pressing into your spine as he spurs Red forward with a gentle slap of the reigns.

You squeal, your hands instinctively reaching out to wrap around his forearms, the tips of your fingers dragging over the dark scales he sports at the junctures of his arms. His muscles twitch under your touch and your breath hitches. The bottom of his chin is hovering just above your shoulder, his cheek threatening your personal space while his chest falls flush with your back, “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah, sorry,” you manage an awkward laugh, blinking to clear your vision. “Sorry, I just wasn’t ready.”

Kirishima holds the reigns in one hand, using the other to wrap around your waist, effectively silencing you as your heart beats heavy in your chest, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

It is easy to melt back into him, a shuddering breath making your shoulders shake. You rest your hands over the top of his thick arm, thumbs finding his veins and bones to trace while you wait for your end destination to come in sight. You avoid paying too close attention to the ebony scales that glimmer in the afternoon sun, shifting from black to red when you look acutely.

The sun is setting when he finally stops Red at the edge of a lake, golden glow shining from the surface of the water and making it difficult to see. Kirishima helps you down before grabbing the picnic basket and tying Red up around the trunk of a tree. In the meantime, you work at setting out the blanket on the ground, tugging out the corners so it’s fully splayed open.

Conversation flows easy for the two of you as you lay out on the ground, face turned toward the sun as is sinks lower in the afternoon sky. You close your eyes and drink in the sunbeams, your hands tucked behind your head. Kirishima is waving his hands around, holding grapes between one set of fingers and a slice of bread in the other.

You laugh, a full-bellied giggle that you have not felt in what seems like years. When the laughter settles, you turn your head to see Kirishima already looking down at you, a soft but sad expression tugging on his features. You tilt your head, blinking a few times before asking him, “What is on your mind?”

“Why are you doing this?” he blurts unabashedly.

The inside of your mouth turns to ash, as if you’ve licked the inside of the oven and can’t get the taste off of your tongue. You swallow the growing lump in your throat and reach a hand up to rub at your face as nerves start to eat away at your belly.

“Can a princess not have a picnic with her husband?” Your voice has risen an octave and it’s obvious he notices because he leans in further, as if silently asking you to further explain. You huff, rolling your eyes, “I just want to get to know you, Kirishima. If we’re to be wed for the rest of our lives, don’t you think we should learn a little about one another?!”

Kirishima sits up straighter, his eyes unable to find a part of you to focus on as his gaze wanders. You turn on your side, reaching out to press your palm to his thigh, but he halts you with his warm touch and saddened words, “I assumed you would have nothing to do with me. Arranged marriages aren’t usually filled with companionship.”

You lean forward, your mouth against his knuckles as you exhale, “I think we’d like each other if we had the chance, arranged marriage or not.”

A silence hangs in the air, Kirishima’s hand heavy beneath yours. You feel the muscles in his leg twitch as your thumb brushes down over his shin. It’s like you are waiting sparks to ignite in midair and take the both of you down, the imminent danger of his response sending a burning chill down your spine. You fear you may have misjudged him, or perhaps his companion misspoke with the intent to turn the two of you against one another.

“Kirishima,” you try again, sitting up on your knees so you can look him in the eyes much easier, “listen, I-”

His thumb against your lower lip gives you pause, your eyes crossing as you try to look down at the offending digit. Kirishima looks up at you, a glimmer in his vermilion irises, “I want you to call me Eijirou.”

Your heart stops beating within your chest at the admission of his given name. You had heard Bakugou say it, and of course when you learned who you would be marrying, you were informed of the nomenclature. However, you never assumed that you would be gifted the privilege to use it so soon.

“Eijirou,” you test it out on your tongue, rolling the name around like honey, “I like that.”

A smile tugs on the corners of his lips and you see the faintest brush of dimples. You lean your body forward to press a kiss to his cheek, just barely brushing the corner of his mouth, “Nice to meet you, Eijirou. I’m your wife.”

He chuckles, reaching out to shake your hand, “Pleased to make your acquaintance. How do you do?”

“I’d be doing much better with some berries between my teeth,” you lean back, brushing your thumb over the back of his palm, “but I’m doing just fine, now that I’ve got you.”

The smile on Kirishima’s face puts the sunshine to shame.

༶•┈⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

It had been months since that picnic by the lake, and you and Kirishima had grown rather close. He chases your lips behind closed doors and your hands are insatiable as they roam his body beneath his tunic. You know the taste of his skin by heart, and he knows the innermost parts of you better than you do.

So him pulling away now has you perplexed.

You pace back and forth in front of his private chambers, the place where he is allowed to go when he needs to contemplate war plans and farming plots and taxation of the citizens. However, he has been holed up behind the thick wooden door for six days straight, and you know that something is wrong.

Bakugou is posted up in front of the door, a mess of limbs as he whittles away at a slab of wood, working on turning it into something much more intricate. His head raises so he can roll his eyes at your unease, “Relax, Princess. He’ll be out of there in another week or two.”

“What does that even mean?!” you snap, your eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. You feel yourself breaking from the inside out – you thought you had made so much progress, that maybe you and Kirishima were really moving forward, learning how to co-habitate and rule together. Your voice is crazed and you throw your palms face-up towards the knight, “Weeks? This is absurd!”

You narrow your eyes at the door like it has wronged you, keeping you from your lover, and you are barreling towards it before Bakugou can stop you.  

“Eijirou!”

Bursting through the door, you’re surprised to find that he is not sitting at his desk, pouring over world maps and charts. Rather, he’s not anywhere to be seen at all. You shut and lock the door behind you just as Bakugou has gotten to his feet, narrowing your eyes at him as it clicks shut.

You hear a whimpering sound off in the distance, and you follow it.

There is a secluded area you know is hidden behind the bookshelf – a secret room built by your father so he can escape even the already secretive confines of his study. You pull the familiar lever at the base of the bookcase and the entire structure begins to shudder as the door is opened. A familiar head of red hair is lowered, his chin to his chest as sobs rack his body, broad shoulders shaking as he sniffles.

“Eiji?” your voice is quiet, afraid to disrupt the moment. He is bare at the torso, his hands cradled in front of him, but you can only make out the muscled expanse of his back, “Eijirou, why are you-”

“I-I didn’t want you in here,” he mumbles through labored breaths. When he turns his head you can make out the glistening tears running down his face, “Y-You smell so strongly and I don’t know if I can control myself.”

“Excuse you?” Your voice is more of a bark than a question, stepping further into the small space so you’re stood beside him, “I smell? You could have just told me, for Christ’s sakes, Eiji-holy shit.”

Your eyes are drawn to the center of his hips, where he’s currently cradling his cock between his hands. The head of it is engorged and blushed, leaking pearlescent fluid that leaks down the shaft, coating one of the more prominent veins on the underside. Your throat bobs at the sight of him, taking in his girth with your own two eyes, trying to rationalize why you’d never seen his lower body without clothing until just now.

“I-I’m sorry, listen, it’s just…” Kirishima is in tears, his voice strained as he stands to his feet, “I-I’m in a fucking rut and it’s horrible and you shouldn’t have to witness it, let alone be a part of it. I wanted to wait it out in here so I could stay away from you.”

You step closer to him, your hands hovering in midair as you’re not sure which part of him to grab for first. Your entire anatomy is on fire at the visual of his thick cock leaking pre and throbbing with the need to spill his seed. The base of him leads way to a set of weighty balls, and you can only imagine the sheer amount of come that he has stored up in them.

“Stay away from me? Eiji,” you whisper, reaching out to touch his shoulder. He recoils, another sniffle as he turns his head, but you persist regardless, “Am I not your wife? Is this not my job?”

He stands to his feet, his trousers taut against his thighs as he tries to pull them back up his legs, “Exactly! This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you! It’s not a job, Princess, nothing in this realm should ever feel like a job. It should be fun, and I can promise you this won’t be fun for you.”

“Rut?” you redirect the conversation, coming to stand in front of him with your hand on his wrist to keep him from pulling his pants back over his cock. “Wh-Tell me what that means, exactly?”

Kirishima inhales deeply, his chest expanding, and then reaches down to take his dick in his hand, stroking it once to show you the length of it, “It’s whatever part of me is intertwined with dragon, I have these annual cycles where I’m drawn to my-fuck, this is so strange to say out loud-my mate.”

You want to reach down to hold his throbbing length in your hands but the look in his eyes says that he isn’t done. Kirishima gulps as he looks across at you, glittering ruby eyes filled to the brim with emotion, “It’s a mating cycle, outside of that I’m not really sure. I go into a rut for a couple of weeks each year, ever since I went through the change, and my body has this intense desire to impregnate a mate.”

The talk coming from him is oddly arousing, and you find yourself growing slick between your thighs. You hover closer to him now, the head of his cock brushing up against your belly as your hands start to roam over his bare chest, “Please, show me what you need, whatever it is, and I’ll help you. You’re in pain, Eijirou.”

He winces on cue, turning his head before you can see the extent of his discomfort. Kirishima shakes his head, “Listen, I-I’ve been doing this alone for years, I can handle it.”

“Yes, but you don’t have to!” You try and reason with him, reaching up to take his cheeks in your hands, redirecting his attention, “I’m your wife, Eijirou.”

A tear wells up in either of his eyes, making his irises look like they are glittering in the candlelight of the secret room, “Yes, but you’re not my mate.”

Those few words topple you over like a horse has just run over your chest. The breath has been knocked out of you, stolen from your lungs, and you take a step back to steady yourself before you fall. Kirishima’s eyesight falters as he realizes what he’s just said, but he makes no move to correct himself. Rather, he stands taller, straightening his spine like he’s ready to go to war, to lead thousands of men into a battle he’s not sure he can win.

You have a choice to make now – you can stand here and fight, or you can flee through the secret passage and hide in your own chambers until his rut is over.

“Eijirou,” you grit your teeth, tears flowing down your cheeks, and look him in the eyes, “I’m not leaving you.”

Fight it is, then.

Kirishima looks stunned, so you take advantage of his stillness to rush at him, cupping his face with your hands and bruising his lips in a kiss. His hips roll forward and his cock is sheathed between your thighs, so you squeeze yourself tight around him, grabbing at his wrists before he can pull himself away. The whimper he lets loose from his mouth is wanton, his body practically shivering with the need to swallow you whole.

You kiss him until he’s shaking, his hands white-knuckled as he bars himself from grabbing every inch of your body like his primal nature pushes him to. When you pull away from him, you look up into his eyes and see hesitation keeping his pupils dilated to where you can still make out his crimson irises.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, voice breaking. “I-I can’t do that to you, not now, not when I think-”

He stops himself before he finishes his sentence, but in your heart, you know what he’s going to say. You smile, praying that he receives some warmth and comfort from the gesture, and brush your thumbs against his wrists where you hold his hands by his sides, “You won’t hurt me. I trust you.”

It’s as if he’s resigned himself to this truth, that you will not leave unless he forces you, and he does not believe that it’s his place to coerce you into doing anything you haven’t already decided for yourself. Kirishima stands tall and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as if taking in the moment. You hear him count a few numbers in an ancient dialect before he peels back his lids and his darkened eyes meet yours, lust swirling around like thunderclouds and his irises have deepened to a maroon shade.

“Are you sure?” he asks, one final time, hands still by his sides, “Once we start, I might not be able to stop.”

That sentence alone is enough to send a chill down your spine.

You nod, trying not to seem too eager by keeping your feet flat to the ground, “Yes, Eijirou, please. I want you to do whatever you need to, please use me.”

The sound of your voice so willing and wanton makes Kirishima’s blood run hot in his veins, thudding against his ears until he can hardly hear anything else. He steps forward, his chest flush with yours, and his shaking hands finally make contact with your body.

He is insatiable when he finally grabs a hold of you, palming at you like an animal. Kirishima captures your mouth in a searing kiss, moaning as soon as your lips part in a gasp. He backs you into the desk he was sitting against when you first came in, your ass knocking against the wood in his haste. A low growl bubbles up in his chest until he nips at your lower lip and you whimper, then the sound fades to a moan.

“Fuck, Princess,” he whispers hoarsely, eyes already blitzed out as he looks down at you, “I want to taste you.”

Your eyes are wide as you blink up at him, your fingers in his hair to sift through the dark red strands. You find yourself nodding your head eagerly, squirming up onto the top of the desk to give him a better angle. Kirishima smiles wide enough that you can see his sharper canines, gums bared as he grins. He lowers himself to his knees, and something about seeing him in such a vulnerable position makes your head spin.

Kirishima pushes the hem of your skirt up and over your thighs, bunching up the material in one hand as the other parades over your soft undergarments. He visibly shivers when the pad of his middle finger brushes over the wet patch on the fabric, his tongue parting his lips as he dampens them.

He mutters a string of ancient curse words in a dialect you cannot comprehend, but it still arouses you, nonetheless. You help him with your dress, tucking it behind your back, before reaching out to run your fingers through his hair, tugging him closer to your core.

You give him a soft, “Eiji, please,” before you hear the tearing of fabric, and your cunt is bared to the cold air.

A gasp parts your lips, but you throw your head back when his tongue first makes contact with your slick folds. You whine into the air, the sound dying out as it travels, and your grip in his hair tightens to a pressure that should be painful, but his thick skin gives him a better barrier for pain.

Kirishima hums against your clit, running the coarse pad of his tongue over the sensitive bud before diving back into your sopping core. He moans as your taste coats his tongue, bringing one of his hands up to your belly so he can brush his thumb along your clit for further stimulation, the coarse feeling of his scaled elbow grating over your thigh giving you goosebumps. His free set of fingers dig into every part of your leg that he can find, roaming from your calves to your thighs to your ass, kneading the plush skin beneath his hardened fingertips.

You clench around his tongue, the thick muscle stimulating even the deepest parts of you. You mewl out his name, uncaring as to how loud you’re being, which only seems to spur him on, the pace of his tongue quickening as his thumb grinds mercilessly against your clit. You cant your hips upward against his mouth, begging for even more friction, and he chuckles, the sound sending reverberating pleasure through your core.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Kirishima’s voice is gentle as he turns his attention to your thighs, kissing the innermost parts as he slips a thick finger between your folds, “I want you to come undone for me, yeah? Think you can do that?”

A nod brings your vision back down to him, to look into his eyes as you rock against his knuckles. He bares his teeth to your thigh before sucking your supple skin between his lips. The combination of pleasure from your cunt mixed with the pain from his biting and sucking of your thigh brings you closer to your high, your vision blurred by ecstasy. You moan, tightening every muscle in your body in hopes that it will push you over the edge, but Kirishima’s hand runs over your taut skin in a soothing motion, rubbing the pads of his fingers deep into your muscles as if to try and calm you down.

“Relax,” he kisses over the dark red mark now splotched against your thigh, “I’ve got you, I’m gonna take care of you.”

You believe him, between his earnest expression and the honest hoarseness behind his words. You swallow thickly, forcing the growing lump in your throat back down into your chest. The contours of your body are less noticeable once you’ve eased your muscles, and Kirishima takes it as a sign for him to quicken the pace of his fingers in your pussy, leaning forward to suck at your clit with his teeth and tongue.

He can feel your walls tightening as he stretches you out with another finger, the spongy texture of your insides giving away the closeness to your end. Smirking around your skin, Kirishima hums, sending you crashing carelessly towards your orgasm.

The sound of his name falling obscenely from your lips makes his cock harden and twitch between his legs. He grunts as he ruts forward against your shin, the head of his dick smearing pre-come against your smooth skin. You suck in a breath at the feeling, falling forward so your lips are in his hair, whispering murmurs of praise and begging as you feel your core writhe with pleasure.

“There’s my girl,” he murmurs as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, hearing your whines from above, “c’mon, Princess, come for me.”

You do as your told, the glutinous walls within you coated with your arousal, milky fluid seeping from your body until it has coated his palm. Kirishima reaches up with his clean hand to thread it through your hair, pulling you gently so he can stand to his feet. You watch as he pumps his cock with the palm that is slick with your silvery strands of spend, the head of him engorged and angry red in color. Your mouth salivates at the thought of him splitting you wide open with the thick girth of him, and for a moment you’re unsure if you’ll be able to take him as easily as you originally believed.

Kirishima wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you to him so he can hoist you off of the desk and walk you towards the small bed staggered in the corner of the room. He lowers you down easily, the rippling muscles of his biceps drawing your eye as he strains himself to keep you safe. You lean up and kiss him on the mouth, swallowing his growling sounds into the recesses of your throat so they may thrum up and down your spine, sending a second shock-wave towards your core.

You notice that Kirishima is eyeing a very specific point on your throat as he leans back onto his thick thighs, taking in your already weakened body. You reach up and palm at his chest, redirecting his attention to your eyes, “Eijirou, what is it?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, leaning down to kiss up from your navel to your chest, “you’re just beautiful.”

His words make your body blush from head to toe, your feet curling up as he shuffles himself out of his pants. You take the moment to hoist your dress over your head, both of your clothes left in a pile on the floor as you reconnect your bodies with a kiss.

Something about this time makes his skin hotter to the touch, you notice, and his muscles are practically ripping at the seams, threatening to bust out if he tries any harder to keep himself restrained. You lick at the fullness of his lower lip, “Eijirou, I need you. Please.”

The pleading nature of your voice only feeds his feral nature, the instinctive side of him wanting to rip you to shreds until you’re screaming his name, crying fat tears as he presses into you and fills you to the brim with his spend. Kirishima has to squeeze his eyes shut to stave off the primal need that stirs him, instead focusing on the way his heart beats faster when you’re around, and how the glimmer in your eyes never ceases to amaze him.

Kirishima angles his hips backward so he can push the tip of his cock between your sopping heat, his restraint feathering out the deeper he slides into you. A gentle gasp from your lips stops him, his hips stilled as he peels his eyes open to look down at you, “A-Am I hurting you?”

“No, fuck, Eijirou, I want you,” you scramble to grab at whatever part of him you can find, fingernails digging roughly into his biceps, “I need you in me, I need you to take me. I’m yours.”

That is the last straw to break the proverbial camel’s back. Kirishima sheathes his cock within your heat with one smooth stroke, the stretch of your tight pussy making the shaft of his dick throb noticeably. You reel forward, your forehead smacking into his chest at the sudden obtrusion from within you. Your body takes over then, trying your hardest to kiss and lick and touch any patch of skin that is close enough.

The prince wraps an arm around your back, holding you sturdily with a palm splayed out between your shoulders, easily keeping you in place as he starts to jut his hips forward, “So fuckin’ tight, angel, such a good little girl, takin’ my cock like this. Fuck I want to-”

He stops himself by dropping his forehead to your shoulder, whining as his thick cock pounds repeatedly into your pussy. You grab at his hair to pull him away from you, desperate to look him in the eyes, “Eiji, tell me.”

There are tears settled in the corners of his irises with the desperate need for more that his body cries out for. Kirishima shakes his head and kisses you on the mouth, nails biting into your back as his cock makes your insides keen. He loses himself in the stretch of you, the tightness of your core making his whole body boil, his skin teeming with sweat as he rucks into you.

“Damnit,” he whimpers as you clench around him, drawing his dick back into your core as he tries to snap his hips backward, “I want to breed you, so fuckin’ bad, Princess.”

It is like he expects you to retreat once he’s said it, as if the thought of it might scare you off. On the contrary, all it does is spur you forward. You kiss him like your life depends on it, rolling your hips up to meet his until he is stroking the hidden part of you near your spine, the head of his cock inflamed and beading with pre-come even as he’s buried to the hilt within you.

The weight of his balls is more intense now, throbbing with his seed, slapping into your ass as he ruts forward, taking your body and molding it with his intentions. You hiss as the veins forking along the underside of his cock drag salaciously against your folds, but he merely takes advantage of the parting of your lips to delve his tongue into your mouth. He maps out each of your molars and then down to the back of your throat, moans spoken into the confines of your jaws so that the world may never hear them, only you.

You know that you are going to have to be the one to tell him that this is okay, that you want him to destroy your body with his touch. Every hair stands on end, even with him holding back, and you can only imagine how worked your bones will feel once he’s actually given you his all. Kirishima is feverish around you, hot and sweating as he works the both of you towards the point of coming undone. You relinquish yourself from his kiss, leaning your head back so you can look him in the eyes.

“Breed me, Eijirou,” your voice is hoarse when you speak, near cracking as you beg him, desperate tears glittering in the corners of your eyes, “I want you to fill me up with your come, please. Stuff me full of it.”

Kirishima’s palm rests at your abdomen, and you notice it for the first time. You wonder what is going through his mind; if he is thinking about the way his cock fills your stomach, or if he is plagued by the idea of you full with his child, pregnant and swollen at the navel. He rubs the heel of it over the expanse of your belly, finding every available patch of skin to caress with his touch, the hardened tips of his fingers raking thin red lines into your skin.

A part of you wants them to never go away, marking you as his, letting all the others know who you belong to.

“I want your baby, Eiji. Won’t you give me one?” Your voice is quiet, timid, unsure if this is how he wants this night to go. You lick your lips and look up at him bashfully, tiny tear tracks spilled over your cheeks in rivulets, “I want you to breed me full, Eijirou. I want you to fill up my cunt with your seed until I’m dripping, please, won’t you?”

Your begging mixed with his feral desire brings his teeth down to your neck, bared but not piercing, not yet. He whimpers as he slips his mouth closed, nosing over the area, licking at it like an animal, “You’d be so pretty when you’re full of me, absolutely beautiful.”

You turn your head so you can kiss him on the temple, feeling his hesitation beneath the pads of your fingers, “I’m your wife, Eiji, but I want to be your mate, too.”

A strangled sound is mangled in his throat, but he pulls away from you to look you in the eye nonetheless, “Wh-What are…Princess, listen, I don’t want you to think-”

“I love you.”

His irises engulf his pupils as his eyes widen, stuttering breaths parting his lips. His gaze is frantic, unable to find one part of your face to hone in on, the three words that you’ve uttered into the air giving him serious pause. His heart starts pumping furiously in his chest, threatening to beat right out of the cage of his ribs if he isn’t careful to calm it.

You are frightened that you’ve been too honest, that you’ve bared your soul too far and there is no coming back. Fear forces your words down into your chest, unable to cry out an apology at going too far too soon. Your hands on his arms pull away, digging into the sheets so you have something to take out your inner turmoil on.

“Y-You want…” Kirishima shakes his head, swallowing thickly so his throat bobs, “You want me?”

The incredulous snort that makes your nostrils flare cannot be contained. You look down to where he is balls deep in your cunt, and then back up to hold his gaze, “Eijirou, is that really even a question?”

He’s stuttering out some sort of response, but you can’t be bothered to listen, so you drag him forward by the nape of his neck, cementing your mouth to his. You wrap your legs around his waist, the heels of your feet digging into the firm muscle of his ass to pull him back to you, to encourage his movements. Kirishima is tentative this time, unsure of himself but his animalistic nature still brings him back to pump his cock within your heat.

“I love you,” you murmur into his lips, twirling your fingers through his hair, “if you love me too, then I want whatever you have to offer, whatever you need to give me so I can finally be yours.”

With every word you speak, the animal gnawing at the back of Kirishima’s consciousness grows less tame. It is begging, with claws at his throat, to take you for all you’re worth, until you’re bone dry and pleading for him to relinquish you. He bares his teeth and the instinct curling around his spine, making him seem stronger, wider, somehow gives way to the true nature of this rut he’s told you about.

It’s a mixture of excitement and fear, and you feel a rush of heat flood your core.

Kirishima groans, gnashing his teeth as he drops his head so your foreheads are pressed to one another. You can sense he’s still holding back, still a touch embarrassed, so you knead your fingers into the tops of his shoulders, begging with the touch of his muscles for him to claim you once and for all.

“Kiri,” your voice is strong even though you’re whispering, “what do you want to do to me? Don’t you want me?”

“Fuck, of course I do,” Kirishima kisses you soundly on the mouth, as if he must reassure you, as if you were doubting him. “I want you, every day for the rest of my life. B-But I can’t…a mate is for life, angel.”

The way he says it suggests that you don’t already know, or that it may come as a surprise to you. You smile, wrapping your arms around his back so you can lean up, arching your spine so your torsos are flush with one another. You’ve never felt the desire to be so close to someone, but it is as if this is not even close enough. You wish there were a better way to prove to him that he is the end of the line for you, that you could never want anyone else.

“I love you,” you repeat, palming the corded muscle of his back as if it might pump the confession into him by the osmosis of your sweat, “You are the first thing I want to see in the morning when I wake, and the last thing I gaze at in the night before I fall asleep. You are the end to all my beginnings, Eijirou.”

Kirishima groans at your confession, his needy body unable to create the same kind of eloquent response as he holds his hips still, unwilling to ruin your beautiful moment. His nose brushes along the bridge of yours, a question lodged in his throat and unwilling to be bared. You nudge the bow of your lips against his cheek, murmuring kind praises into his ear, “Tell me what you want, what you need, Eijirou. I want to give it to you, whatever it is.”

“C-Can I mark you?” his voice is bedraggled, just on the cusp of breaking.

“Please,” you ask of him, craning your head so your neck is available. “I want to be yours, and I want everyone else to know.”

It seems that is all the encouragement he needs, baring his fanged teeth to the thin skin of your neck, tongue tracing over your jugular as he prepares the area for his biting kiss. He nudges his nose against your earlobe, that same ancient tongue from earlier sending a shiver down your spine as he speaks.

You are not prepared for the searing pain that rips through your body when he finally tears into you. A cry parts your lips and your cunt squeezes him so tightly that he almost slips from within you. Your hand rips through his hair, the other occupied with his shoulder, nails bludgeoning his hardened skin until you draw blood. You want to throw your head back but you know that will only make it all worse, his teeth will shred your skin until you are but a flayed piece of meat lying beneath him.

“Kiri,” you whine, turning your head to nestle you lips into the edge of his hair that curls around his ear, kissing at whatever surface you can find.

He hums in response, unable to give you words as he sucks and pulls at the skin. You feel your mind cloud the longer he has dug into you, the tendrils of need writhing around your cerebrum until you can no longer think clearly. The one thing on your mind is the very thing between his legs, and you whisper words of want into his ear, praying that he can hear you through his animalistic marking.

The palm of his hand digs further into your belly, until he can feel the tip of his cock underneath his fingers. Kirishima growls around your neck, the timbre of his voice shaking your very bones. You swallow, dipping your fingers further into the skin of his shoulders, “Kirishima, move.”

His hips are listening even if he does not give an indication that he’s heard you. He uses his hands to prop up your legs, the tips of his digits bruising your skin with their intensity, until your knees are almost parallel with the mattress. The only reason they aren’t digging into your chest is because he’s still slotted there, gnashing away at the sensitive skin of your neck. His body is lumbering and thick, dense from his neck to his ankles.

Kirishima makes you feel small, in every sense of the word. Even as a princess, you did not feel dainty, you’ve never been a precious flower that someone else has to protect. You’ve always stumbled a little, faltered when you should be standing upright, and your parents have had to reprimand you for your unladylike tendencies more than once.

But here, lying underneath his hulking form, your fingers seem tinier, more elegant, and even as your knees dig into his ribs, he does not falter, does not wince. You cannot put him in pain, between his hard exterior and his intense primal nature, and it makes you feel like a porcelain doll.

And once his cock plunges back within your tight, wet heat, you are reminded of how massive he truly is.

The tip of his cock butterflies you wide open, shattering your limited stretch and prying you open with each quivering inch of his thick girth. He overwhelms you, so much so that your head topples backward to dig further into the pillow, as if running away from him might soothe the ache between your legs. Even that is a mistake, because once you’ve shifted, his teeth scrape down the sensitive skin of your collarbones, angry red marks left in their wake.

He leans back to examine his hard work, eyes roaming the juncture of your neck and shoulder where the shape of his teeth is like a shadow. A guttural growl emanates from his throat, the air sparking with electricity at the sound of it. You swallow the thick, pent-up arousal in your throat and breathe heavily, somewhat thankful to be rid of his mouth even though a part of you would frenetically like to bring it back. Your throat is throbbing, and you think you could count the number of teeth he was able to sink into you based on the pain of it alone.

“Princess,” he gasps as he takes in the pulsating mark now claiming you as his, “I-I’m sorry, d-did I-”

You shake your head and pull at him in every way possible, your body crying out for more of him in every sense of the word. Kirishima moans as you kiss him again, pushing your tongue between his teeth to try and taste the familiar warmth of his mouth. You moan, your body finding his easily, comfortable and wanting as you careen forward, the throbbing circular mark on your shoulder long forgotten. You have to come up for air much sooner than you like, still reeling from his marking of your body.

Kirishima’s palm is digging into your stomach again, nails biting into your smooth skin as his cock pulses, and he squints harshly as he pulls away to look you in the eyes. The sight of you splayed out beneath him, completely at his mercy, makes his balls throb and he snaps his hips up into you again out of pure primal need alone. Your body jostles, breasts bouncing and thighs rippling, as his cock bottoms out into your cunt, the tip of him bursting with arousal and finding your cervix.

“Oh shit,” he drops his head to your chest, curling himself upward so your hips are flush, his hip bones bruising your thighs as he unceremoniously crumbles into you. Your hands are on him in an instant, trying to understand what could have possibly happened to make him so vulnerable.

You barely have time to say his name before he’s whining, sucking your nipple between the bite of his teeth out of the sole desire to muffle his needy pants. Your hand sifts through his hair, head thrown back while you enjoy the ministrations of his tongue around your chest. He mumbles out words that you can’t quite make out, but with the way his cock is throbbing between your walls and the motions of his hand and mouth on your breast, you don’t care much to understand what drivel he’s spinning.

It is only when you feel the inside of your body flood with heat that you understand.

“Eijirou,” you call to him, forcing his head away from your nipple with the gentle tug of your hands, “d-did you just-”

He looks like he could cry, his head hung in shame, “Yes.”

You want to laugh at his pitiful nature, but you can’t, not knowing what the would do to his self-esteem. Instead, you roll your hips up to try and milk him of his release, encouraging him to start rocking your body with his arousing rhythm until he is completely spent within you.

“You said you wanted to breed me, didn’t you?” you question roughly in his ear, your head tilted to where he’s tucked into your collarbone. You kiss his hair, desperate to clutch onto him as you feel his cock softening, peeling away from your tight hole. The feel of come seeping from your cunt makes you squirm, “Eijirou?”

Kirishima tilts his head back and looks you in the eyes, reddened orbs practically devastated. He nods, “Y-Yeah, but I just-”

“Again.”

His throat bobs, eyes widening at your notion. He turns his head to survey your body, littered with bruises and bite marks and it hasn’t been but one round of his cock buried to the hilt within you. His eyes catch on the marking on your shoulder and his cock stirs again, “A-Again?”

“Breed me,” you grit between your teeth, “please, Eijirou. I want you to put a baby in me.”

The biting nature of his fingertips is not lost on you as he pushes your thighs back so your knees are pressed into the mattress. His thick body is wavering above you, eyes unable and unwilling to look away from you as he starts to roll his hips again, slowly so he does not lose the slick that he has gathered from the both of you.

Kirishima swallows one last pensive breath and then it’s like a switch has gone off in his mind, like he’s finally letting the caged beast out to take over, controlling his ministrations. You arch your back so you can feel his hardened nipples against your chest, one of his hands slowly creeping up your torso until he’s found the bruised, marred skin of your neck beneath his fingertips.

“Look so beautiful, love,” Kirishima kisses your forehead, like a proverbial final word before he devours you whole. “I can’t wait to wreck this pretty pussy of yours, mark this body up until no one has any question of who you belong to.”

His uncharacteristically harsh words make your core tighten and your toes curl. You nod, starting to beg for it, the words just barely tipping over the edge of your tongue when he clamps his hand down on the mark of your neck. You feel white-hot pain shoot forth from the area, coating your body in a wave of agony as the pulsing spreads downward.

A broken whimper escapes your gritted teeth, eyes screwed shut when his blunt fingernails dip further into the area, almost like he’s testing to see how far you can take it before he has to relent. He is unkind when he grabs your thigh, pushing it up into your chest as he resumes his slow pace from before. His cock is already beginning to harden again, twitching relentlessly against your glutinous walls, coated with both your arousal and his spend.

“Eijirou,” you want to beg for him but you can barely push out the broken syllables of his name. Tears coat your cheeks but you don’t mind the blurred vision as you gaze up at him. It makes him shine, like the starlight he truly is. Your face breaks into a smile, despite the absolute torment you feel wracking your body. You would endure anything for him, any sort of discomfort or torture, if it meant that you could be this close to him forever.

Kirishima kisses you square on the mouth, “Hush, angel, let me take care of you.”

Your jaw snaps shut, the muscles along the angle of your face shuddering under the pressure of your gritted teeth. Kirishima smiles warmly at you, the last shred of his humanity remaining before he plunges his thumb into the direct center of your marking, digging his fingernail into the bruised skin. You yelp, your cunt clenching around his cock as he pushes deeper into you.

The entirety of your body is so compliant, molded around his frame, practically fluid as you conform to the positions his hands push you into. Kirishima licks a heated stripe along the column of your neck, leaving behind a wet patch that runs cold when he breathes over it. You dig your hands back against his shoulders, raking the tips of your nails along the length of his back and shoulders.

Kirishima gasps audibly at the newfound tightness of your core at his ministrations. He uses his free palm to reach down and grind his thumb against your hooded clit. He nudges his nose along your jawline, breathing coming in heavy pants as he pummels you into the soft plush of the mattress beneath your shoulders. The snap of his hips does not let your backside rest, your body hovering a few inches from the mattress.

It’s as if he cannot get enough of you, even so much so that he won’t allow your frame to fall too far from him. Kirishima must keep you close, he has no other option. The feral animal clawing at what little shred of his resolve that remains whispers in his ear to put a new mark on every visible inch of your skin until you are nothing but a black and blue mess, blubbering and begging beneath him.

“Such a pretty little thing when you come undone for me,” Kirishima murmurs against the shell of your ear, the sultry sound of his voice intermingled with his panting sending a rolling wave of pleasure down your spine until your toes are curling around the sheets. “You like it when I’m this deep inside of you? Not letting your pussy breathe?”

You are nodding even if you don’t fully understand what he’s saying. You would agree to anything, that much you are aware of, and you know that he is keen to that fact as well. Kirishima is still careful with you, somehow aware enough of your limitations to revere you and reel himself in when he feels he might be going too far. The blitzed-out look in your eyes tells him all that he needs to know – you have slipped beneath the surface into that subservient headspace that he’s seen you on the cusp of so many times when he’s had you knuckle deep and coming around his fingers. The very essence of his being tells him to work you for every tear, ever drop of arousal, that you can create, to bludgeon your body until you are begging him to give you a moment to breathe, and then deny you of it.

Kirishima’s hand that has been pressed against your wound now turns to curl around your throat, fingers squeezing your neck until you are gasping for breath. Your eyes flutter somewhere between open and closed as your mouth gapes open wide, bobbing like a fish out of water as you struggle to inhale the slightest amount of oxygen. Your hands flop from his body to the mattress, curling around the sheets until he hears them rip between your nails.

“Look at you, Princess,” he nudges your cheek until you’re looking him in the eyes again, “can’t even speak in full sentences. So whipped for my cock, huh? Tell me what you want me to do to you, if you can talk.”

Drool dribbles from either corner of your mouth and when you shake your head, it creates damp splotches on the pillowcase. Kirishima chuckles, pushing the base of his thumb against the fleshy underside of your chin, forcing your head still so he can glower down at you, crimson eyes shining. The heel of his palm stays jutted against your esophagus, limiting your breathing as he loiters over you.

The words that come out of your mouth are mere wheezing syllables, unable to be understood in their broken form. Tears form in your eyes, clumping on your lashes, at the pure frustration that you can’t tell him exactly what you’d like him to do to you. You whine, the sound breaking in the middle when Kirishima tightens his grip on your throat. You peel your eyes open to see a darkness settled in his irises, their normally crimson color turned almost to black in his lustful state.

It should make you upset, that he’s losing himself, but instead, it just stokes the fire in your belly until the flames are raging up into your throat. The smoke of it all builds behind your eyes and in your mouth until you have to open everything, whining and moaning and writhing like your life depends on it. All the while, Kirishima has set a steady, bruising pace of his cock dragging against your walls, the forked veins on the underside of him giving you additional friction. You want to grab at him, to tug on his body until he melts into you, but your arms are limp, practically your whole body is at the intense ministrations of his hands and hips.

Finally, after your vision begins to blur and your eyelids slip closed at the feel of the remaining oxygen leaving your throat, Kirishima relents his grip and a rush of air floods your lungs. You gasp and choke, the motions making your cunt clamp tightly around his cock, giving Kirishima the push he needs to bottom out within you again, holding himself still until you can catch your breath.

“Such a good girl,” Kirishima is whispering the words hoarsely as his mouth roams your cheek and neck and collarbones. He plants wet, sloppy kisses against your skin like he does not have time to think about the affections.

You whine when you feel his tongue dart from between his lips to lavish attention to the wound on your shoulder, the bite mark from his pointed teeth leading way to bruising and little trails of crimson seeping down from your shoulder to the mattress. He licks at it, half out of wanting to hear you moan when he puts too much pressure on the bruise and half out of guilt for hurting you.

His name comes from your lips and it makes his cock stir against your cervix, “Tell me what you want, angel, I need to know.”

You are aware the duality of that statement. He needs to know because he needs permission, even if his current state won’t allow him to admit it. You find it in you to reach a hand up to sift through his hair, palming at the back of his head to give him some ease with your touch.

“I want you to come in me, Eijirou,” your voice is panting, a mix of exhaustion and longing making you sound fatigued. You feel tears push out of the edges of your eyes at the pure need you have for him to make all of this a reality, “Come in me, Eiji, I want you to give me a baby. I want you to breed me until I’m full of your child, over and over again. I want you to fill me up un-ah!”

Kirishima ruts forward and you swear you feel something within you tear at the pure size of him. He nips at your jaw, nosing along your neck, brushing against it whenever he pulses forward. The salacious sounds filling the air only contribute to your arousal, floods of slick washing over his dick as he slots in and out of you.

He grunts, “So fuckin’ tight,” before his hands travel down towards your thighs, pushing them back until he has you folded so only your shoulders are against the bed. You whimper as you turn, your mark pushed against the mattress until it is pulsing with pain.

“I’m gonna come in this tight, wet little hole until you’re leaking, until you taste it.” Kirishima can feel the impending doom of his spend when his cock twitches within your quivering heat. You try and clamp your walls down around him to keep his length sheathed within you for longer, but it’s of no use. He has set a bruising pace that he intends on following through with until you are screaming and his come is coating your soft insides.

Your toes are pointed toward the ceiling, curling downward when he slams into you. The pace of his hips is menacing, something you should fear, because the feel of him makes you think he might rip you open. But, you’re sure you’d let him split you down the middle and you’d still say thank you. Mumbles of incoherent drivel pour from your mouth along with your rivulets of drool and tears.

Kirishima chuckles, “Look at you, a beautiful mess for me, aren’t you, sweetheart? I can’t wait to fill this precious cunt up. I’ll give you as many babies as you can hold.”

The call to your womb must be strong, because he stays slotted within you for a moment, fingers rolling around your thighs as he takes you in. His crimson irises dole over your body, from your plush lips to your plump chest, on downward to the gentle bump of your belly as his cock nudges within you. Kirishima abandons your thighs for your stomach, raking his nails along the unmarked plane of skin, thin angry lines left behind when he pulls away.

You reach forward to wrap your fingers around his wrist, keeping his touch pointed on your navel, “I want to have your baby, Eijirou. All of them, as many as you can give me. Please, I’m just a vessel for you to use.”

His eyes deepen at that sentiment, but something else passes through them. He catches his lip within the bite of his teeth before leaning down to kiss you, palm turned against your stomach so his knuckles drag along your skin, but he can slot his fingers between yours and squeeze.

“You are so much more than that,” he whispers into your mouth, as if the words may stay caged in there forever for you to marinate on them. He kisses your cheeks, the tears sticking on his lips, his voice thick when he speaks, “You’ll be the prettiest mama out there, you know? So beautiful and round, absolutely breathtaking when you have to waddle around, you’re so full.”

Kirishima is close to whimpering, eyes screwed shut as he speaks his heart, “I love you, Princess, god, you mean the world to me.”

Your fingers find purchase against his shoulders, the scratched skin beneath the pads of your digits making you salivate. You’ve marked him, too, even if it’s not the same. You want to spend the rest of your life repeating it over and over, marking him every time he finds you beneath the sheets, so that the others may know that he belongs to you just as much as you belong to him. The two of you are completely intertwined in every facet of the word, limbs and hearts woven into the same piece of soul fabric, begging to be together until the end of time.

The edges of your vision begin to dither as you come closer to your climax. You swallow the lump in your throat and whimper, “Kirishima, I think I might-”

He is listening, the hand not currently wrapped around yours reaching between your slick bodies to thumb at your clit. A bruising kiss is pressed firmly to your mouth, dampening your lewd sounds as you writhe under his bulky body, hardly moving but trying desperately all the same. You can’t help it as your mouth parts to lick at seam of his lips, but he willingly opens his mouth to you, receiving the pointed lapping of your tongue as he slowly begins to rut back into you.

“I want you to beg for what you want,” he gasps into your teeth, the tip of your noses clashing as the sound of his weighty balls slap against the curve of your ass. He can taste the saltiness of your tears as your mouths meld together, and it makes him smirk, “Are you cryin’? Like a sweet little bitch, crying for my cock?”

You want to answer him, to tell him how much you love every part of him, to shower his body in praise until you’ve gone mute, but your throat is hoarse and your mind is hazy, and you can’t form words. Instead, you tilt your head and kiss him harder, your tongue swiping over his as you try to convey how you’re feeling into this kiss, attempting to make his world spin. You want to give him a small taste of what he has done to you, even if it will never truly meet the searing reality of his hold he’s got on you, body, mind and soul.

“Cry for me, darling,” Kirishima coos as his mouth travels down the curve of your jaw until his teeth meet the juncture of your neck and ear, “I want Bakugou to hear you when I stuff your cunt full, all the way from out in the hallway. Gonna put my child in you while you sob for my cock, begging me to keep fucking you deeper and deeper into this bed.”

You can hardly create coherent sentences, between his mouth and hands and cock all working at your relentlessly, the ministrations of his body creating a throbbing euphoria between your hips. You whine at the idea of having to say much of anything right now, let alone an understandable string of words.

His balls are weighty as they slap against your backside, the sound making your throat bob, and he growls, “Beg for me, like the little whore you are.”

The nipping of his teeth against your mouth makes your cunt spasm, and Kirishima lets loose a strangled sound from the back of his throat. Based on the whimpering curtail of his voice, you can tell that he’s close to coming a second time. Your body tenses, every muscle coiled tightly as you edge yourself to a release. You have to close your eyes so the white-hot arousal boiling in your core can’t blur your vision.

“Y-Your come, your cock,” is all you can find yourself repeating over and over, your being too fucked-out to say much of anything else. Hot tears leak down your temples, exhausted sobs making your voice shake when you scream for him, throat close to shattering in its hoarseness.

Kirishima leans back so he can preen, his cock stretching you even further in this position. Your eyes bug out before you can squint your lids closed again. He chuckles, the sound dark and ominous as it reverberates around in the room, “Do you know how fuckin’ hard it’s been to control myself around you? God, I’ve been wanting to fuck you like this for months, breed you like a good little bitch in heat, give you loads of my come until you’re bursting at the seams with it.”

His lewd words are what bring you toppling over the edge, the thought of his come leaking out of your abused pussy, him plugging you up with his cock and rutting up into you again until he’s brought on another release from within himself. Your palms slap his biceps as you grip onto him, afraid he might actually push you through the mattress with the ferocity of his hips. There’s no doubt in your mind that you will have blooming bruises all over your body, marking you up like flowers spread throughout a garden.

“Fucking hell at this sloppy pussy, Princess,” Kirishima’s hands on your thighs tighten, biting deep into the muscle until you swear he hits bone, “I’m gonna breed you up so fuckin’ good, sweetheart. Keep you hidden in here, fuck you endlessly, until you’re begging me to quit.”

“No,” you gasp out, your voice crackling even on the single syllable, “don’t stop.”

Kirishima smirks down at you, “Careful what you wish for, Princess.”

You are shaking your head, silently encouraging him because your voice is shot to hell. You dig your nails into his biceps, shaking him just enough that he understands your subtext, starting to rock his hips against your ass, the thick shaft of his cock slipping along your inner walls as he works you closer to the crest of climax.

It’s just on the precipice of your body, your entire form overheated with the flames of arousal. You want to cry, the end so close and yet feeling so unachievable. Kirishima releases one of your thighs to attend to your clit, the pace of his circling finger matching that of his cock pounding into your heat. With each thrust, you see another wave of stars in the air above you. Even in the low candlelight of this secret room, you can see the glimmering in Kirishima’s irises, as if he has his own galaxy tucked away in his pupils, bringing it out for you and for you only.

Kirishima curses, dropping his head to watch his cock slip from your wet core, silvery strands of slick the only thing connecting him to you now, “Gotta stop clenching so hard, sweetheart,” somehow he manages to push himself back into you, despite the size of your hole. Kirishima grabs one of your ankles and settles it on his shoulder, turning to kiss the joint, “Such a tight little pussy, but so fucking sloppy. You’re dripping.”

His nose nudges along the length of your calf as he picks up his pace, rutting into you with purpose. You wonder how much of his animalistic nature will bleed into the other aspects of your life, but you don’t have much time to ponder before the coiling heat of your orgasm is beginning to build up and cloud your consciousness. Your jaw hangs slack and Kirishima takes the opportunity to slip his index and fourth finger between your lips, the golden ring on his finger cool on the heated pad of your tongue.

“There you go,” he murmurs absentmindedly, tilting his head to consider you. You circle one hand around his wrist, pushing him further into the hollows of your cheeks. His eyes widen at the action and it makes his hips falter in their pacing.

Kirishima can feel the tightening of your cunt around his cock, and the tears in your eyes, and he knows that you’re close, “C’mon, angel, I want you to come on my cock. You feel so fuckin’ good around me, holding me tight.”

You sniffle, drool creating a silvery rivulet down your cheek, “Eijirou, please,” you are whimpering into his knuckles, praying that you don’t bite down on him too hard.

“S’okay,” Kirishima’s voice is kind, in stark contrast to the harsh nature of his dick as it jackhammers into you. “Bite me, I’ll be okay. I just want to make you come.”

Listening to his plea, you grind your teeth together around his knuckles, biting into his skin until you taste metal. The release of pressure gives way to an earth-shattering orgasm, your cunt spasming around his cock until you can feel your arousal seeping out of your body, dripping onto the mattress beneath you. You suck on Kirishima’s fingers, tonguing his knuckles to distract yourself from screaming.

“Good girl,” he coos, thumb grazing your cheek and chin as he continues to rock into your core. You are still gushing when he tenses up, thighs rippling as he readies himself to come for the second time. Kirishima’s voice is hoarse, near a growl as he looks down at you, a blubbering, hiccuping mess beneath him, “F-Fuck, Princess, you’re gonna look so beautiful when you’re full with our child. I can’t wait to stuff you full over and over again, until you’re bursting at the seams.”

You start to plead, your words nothing more than blather, foaming at the mouth as you whine for his spend, tears beading at the corners of your eyes in your desperation. Your nails rake down the length of his muscled back, your heels dipping into the flesh of his ass to keep him pinned to you, for just a moment of reprieve from his agonizingly thick length. The forked veins running along either side of his cock make your walls quiver as your abused insides beg for a break.

When he feels a newfound tightness as he tries to withdraw from you, he seethes through his teeth, “Shit, sweetheart. St-Stop clenching, or else I’ll have to fuck you all over again.”

There’s a pause, a stilling of his body, as he looks down at you, drooling and crying around his knuckles. He chuckles, the sound reverberating his chest in such a way that shakes the very room. Your body tenses at the timbre, eyes struggling to focus on one specific point on his face as he ravishes you with his carmine irises.

“Actually,” he tilts his head, shoving his fingers further down your throat until you are gagging around his digits, “go ahead, push it out, it just means I get to breed this tight little pussy all over again.”

Kirishima leans forward, brushing his mouth against your jaw as he sheathes himself within you inch by inch, slow and salacious, “Don’t worry, I’ll fill you to the fucking brim anyway, angel. You want this load?”

You can’t help the instant wanton words that fly from your mouth, sparking in the midst of the two of you, pouring out of your chest like fire. You whine and keen, sucking his knuckles into the hollows of your cheeks to try and bring him closer to the precipice of pleasure, to give him the same radical sensation that he has given you twice now.

“Give it,” you force the words out despite his thick digits pushing down on the muscle of your tongue, “please, Eiji, I-I want your ba-oh.”

He growls, bludgeoning his cock into your cunt as he starts coming undone within you. A blooming heat starts in your core and blossoms upward until you think smoke may come out of your nostrils. It clouds your mind, the slightest bit of consciousness creeping forward so you can enjoy the way he paints your walls with his spend, filling you just as he promised.

“Take it,” he snarls, sharpened teeth making your back arch, “take my fucking load.”

Your legs wobble, but you keep yourself wrapped around him, allowing him to ride out his pleasure until his hips are sloppy, thighs brushing your bruised ass a final time before he drops his head to your chest. He is hot, unbearably warm, but you endure it because it means he is here.

His hands brush down from the backs of your knees until he is pushing you back into the mattress, allowing your body to rest, limp against the sheets. Kirishima kisses the swell of your breast, imagining how full they’ll be once your womb has been filled and your body starts to change. He could cry at the thought of it, his animalistic side attempting to take over his consciousness, warm at the thought of you carrying on his lineage, giving him heir after heir.

Kirishima hums against your sternum, hands encompassing your sides in full, fingers splayed across your ribs, “Such a pretty little thing, angel. You’re perfect. I love you.”

He starts to pull from you but you whine, clenching around him so tightly that your combined arousal seeps from your cunt, dripping down the curve of your ass. Your nails bite into his biceps, clutching onto him like an anchor, “Please don’t leave me, Eijirou.”

“Hey,” his voice is soothing, nose nudging over your jugular. He presses himself back into you, filling you up even as he starts to soften, “I’m right here, sweetheart. I promise I’m not going anywhere. Not now, and not ever. You’re mine, my mate.”

You swear you see the curling wisps of flames seeping from his teeth and tongue, the dragon in him coming forth in a surge of possessiveness. His eyes drop to the piercing bite adorning your shoulder, a mix of blood and bruising on display, the mating mark stirring his cock within your cunt again and you’re afraid he might already be starting up for a third round.

Tilting your head skyward, you beseech him for his mouth, pursing your lips just enough that he understands your silent plea. Kirishima’s smirk melts into a smile, dimples piercing his cheeks, and he meets you halfway, slotting his mouth to yours. The warmth of your lips meld together, noses bumping and teeth clashing, but you do not care because at least he is buried to the hilt within you and his body is flush with your own. You see stars as you are deprived of oxygen, but this might be the most pleasant way to go – full to the brim of him, his mouth starving you, your entire being swallowed by the essence of him.

“You don’t quit that, I’ll take you again, right now,” Kirishima is growling as his mouth finds your mark again, pressing a harsh kiss to the purpled skin, “You’re so perfect, sweetheart. I love you so much.”

Tears well up in your eyes, and you’re not sure what specific event has stirred them on, but you let them fall nonetheless. Kirishima is quick to kiss them away before they can stain your pillowcase, whispering kindness as he brushes his mouth against each of your eyelids, “I can’t believe you’re all mine.”

“Always, Eijirou,” you whisper into thin air, your voice reaching his ears and sending a bolt of lightning down his spine, “I’ve always been yours, from the moment I saw you, I belonged to you.”

“And I have always been yours too.” Kirishima brushes his nose against the bridge of your face, “I can’t wait to build a legacy with you.”

-

The thudding of footsteps echoes down the hall, drawing carmine irises up from their previously hooded position. He rolls his eyes, standing to his feet, sword weighing heavy on his belt, “What is it?”

“Very important news,” the younger man’s throat bobs as he stutter steps backward, “The, uh, the ball that’s being held later-”

The blonde wags his finger in midair, a chuckle parting his smirking mouth, “Go find someone else to figure that shit out. You’ll regret it if you go in there now.”

A widened stare follows his finger to the door, where the wood is shaking just enough that he can get the hint. The knight in front of him chuckles, sitting back down in his chair, crossing his leg over his knee, “Yeah, I wouldn’t disturb him during his breeding season if I were you.”

-

a/n: yeah, so this was supposed to be 2k. obviously that didn’t happen, lol. i hope you guys like my first true kiri fic :) 

tagging: @mirakumiruku @kamehamethot​ @1-800-callmekatsuki​ @shoutogepi​ @freckledoriya​ @writeiolite​ @kingtamakimurder​ @cutesuki--bakugou​

#kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima eijirou smut #bnha smut #bnha x reader #kirishima bnha #morgan writes bnha #kirishima x you #kirishima eijirou x you #my writing

[floral-and-fine]

Yearning

Thorin x female reader

Warning: lemon

Summary: After the battle of the five armies, Thorin desires nothing more than to be intimate with his wife, but he’s in condition for such excursions yet.

A/n: I’ve been wanting to write some LOTR and Hobbit content for awhile now! Enjoy ❤️ tagging: @luna-xial @rusticup

…

Torture. Pure torture. It was the only way to describe his situation. Thorin had endured more than most men ever have. He was no stranger to pain, and had escaped several close calls with death.

However, nothing was quite as torturous as having the object of his desires well within his reach, and not being able to do anything about it.

Having barely survived the battle of the five armies, Thorin found himself bedridden. Several of his bones were broken, he had been stabbed through his gut, and his body was littered with bruises.

To make matters worse, was that what he desired was practically flaunting herself around, making it hard to resist despite the severity of his injuries.

The relief he felt the moment he saw y/n after the battle was over was indescribable. Finally, he had everything he ever wanted, his home back, his vengeance, and the love of his life. Thorin never imagined that he’d be so fortunate.

Y/n had been just as relieved as he was. Tears freely fell from her eyes when she saw him battered and bloody but alive. She had feared the worst had happened.

Since the battle, Y/n hadn’t left his side, which was quite alright with him. Thorin never wanted to lose sight of his love again.

The torture began when y/n would shower him with affection while he was still in no condition to reciprocate other than simple kisses or a gentle caress to her cheek.

He desired more, much more.

He longed to feel her bare skin against his own, to feel the sting of her nails as they dragged down his back, and to feel her tremble beneath him as he filled her.

It had been so long since the last time they were intimate.

Thorin swallowed thickly, despite the growing heat in the pit of his stomach, he didn’t attempt to touch himself. Y/n was never gone for long, and he certainly did not want to be caught by her while doing such an act.

He’d much rather put all his fantasies to good use. As soon as he’s able, Thorin was going to worship every inch of his queen, then fill her with his seed.

…

Y/n waltzed into the room, humming to herself.

The bodice of her dress hugged her waist tightly and pushed up her breasts. Everything about her was so enticing.

“Good afternoon,” she chirped, approaching his bedside. His face burned as she leaned forward, giving him a full view of her bosom as she kissed his forehead.

She tilted her head noticing how red his face had become.

“Love,” she murmured, voice laced with concern. “Are you alright?” Y/n used the back of her hand to check his temperature. Her cool skin felt so pleasant against his flushed face.

“Fine,” he smiled, trying not to get too worked up over the simple touch of her hand. “How are you?”

“Oh I’m good! Everyone has been asking about you,” she started, with her hands on her waist. “Told them you’re not quite ready for visitors yet.”

He nodded, other than her, Bilbo, and Balin he hadn’t hardly seen anyone.

His nephews had managed to sneak in a few times, but were immediately shooed away by their aunt, while she lectured them about how they should be in bed recovering as well.

She looked him over, “we should probably change your bandages.”

His eyes followed her as she sauntered over to the cabinet. Her hips swayed in a delicious fashion. Thorin couldn’t help but wonder if she knew how much power she had over him.

She swung the doors open and bent over rummaging around for spare bandages.

Thorin gripped the sheets tightly at the sight of her rear up in the air. Oh how he wished he could approach her from behind, lift up all her skirts, and take her. It was his favorite position, to bend her over the bed or table and fuck her thoroughly.

Finding what she needed, she approached the bed with clean bandages and salves.

Y/n helped him sit up so she could tend to his wounds. She winced as she started undressing his all of his injuries.

All of the bruises were still quite dark. Blotches of blues, purples, and greens were littered over his entire chest and back. At least he was looking much better compared to before.

Y/n was happy to see that none of deep cuts or scratches were infected. She placed kisses lovingly on the worst ones. Master Balin had done an amazing job treating Thorin’s injuries. He stitched up the deepest wounds.

She worried constantly that Thorin, being the stubborn man he was, wouldn’t stay put. She was aware of how ready he was to start ruling Erebor. He rarely took basic care of himself, always putting others before him.

“You’re healing quite nicely,” she commented.

“But not as quickly as I’d like,” he huffed.

“Oh, you’ll be back on your feet in no time,” she reassured him, patting his shoulder.

Y/n worked diligently and carefully, applying the salves and rebandaging his chest and back. She then worked her fingers through his hair, untangling the knots and soothingly scratching his scalp.

“All done!” She announced, then peppered the side of face with kisses. “Get some rest, okay? I’m going to tidy up the room.”

Thorin laid back down and watched his wife flitted around their bedroom putting things.

…

Y/n’s moans filled the room, echoing against the stone walls. Her hands clinging to the sheets beneath her. Her back glistening with sweat.

He gripped her hips tightly, as he rammed into her wildly. Her ass and thighs jiggling with each thrust.

Pressing his chest against her back, he bit the crook he of her neck. Y/n screamed his name as her walls clamped down around him.

As he started to reach his climax, Thorin’s eyes snapped open. He found himself in bed, chest heaving as he tried to recover his breath.

His brows furrowed as he tried to recall when he had fallen asleep. He had been having a lot of similar dreams lately.

“Dear?” Y/n asked, walking out of the attached bathroom. She was dressed in a robe and her hair was damp. “Bad dream?”

Thorin shook his head, “not exactly.”

She gave him a small smile. But he knew she could tell he was keeping something from her. She was always fussing over him, worrying about him.

Y/n walked over to change behind the room divider.

He watched her silhouette closely. The curves of her figure were tantalizing. He could feel himself salivating, knowing she stark naked and so close.

After slipping into a silk nightdress, she re-emerged from behind the privacy screen. She looked absolutely stunning. The sheer gown left very little to the imagination. He could tell her nipples were hard and erect, the thin fabric did very little to hide them.

Mahal, Being bound to this bed was maddening. Thorin bit his lip and shifted trying to get comfortable.

Y/n made her way over to him and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Goodnight, my love.” She tilted her head and pressed her plush lips to his.

Thorin’s hand cupped her cheek, the calloused pads of fingertips pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss. His tongue slipping between her lips. She responded eagerly, her fingers ran through his hair as

Y/n broke the kiss, panting, but before she could stand up far Thorin grabbed her wrist. He couldn’t stand any longer.

“I need you,” he murmured lowly. “I need to feel you.”

“Thorin…”

“I cannot last any longer, for days now I’ve been consumed by the thought of being with you, being inside of you,” he conceded.

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I am in no physical condition to give you the pleasure you deserve,” he admitted, slightly embarrassed over making such a forward confession.

Y/n sighed, “You know, you’re not the only one feeling this way.”

With ease, she shrugged off the straps of her nightdress. It pooled on the floor revealing her naked body.

Y/n fidgeted slightly, as Thorin stared at her. His eyes devouring every inch. He hissed, as he tried to sit up to pull her closer to him.

“Shhh,” she whispered, placing a hand on his chest gently pushing him back down onto the pillows. “Lay back down my king, I’ll take care of you.”

Without hesitation, she undid the laces of his trousers freeing his hard cock. Her fingers wrapped around it, stroking it slowly.

Thorin writhed against the bed. Gasping as he felt her tongue swirl around the head before taking him into her mouth. As her head bobbed sucking his cock, her hand continued to pump his shaft.

Feeling her lips glide over and down his cock was sublime. Her tongue pressed against the vein on the underside of his member.

He inhaled sharply as she took him so deep that his tip hit the back of her throat. She sucked as she pulled back, then took him even deeper.

His jaw clenched tightly, fighting the urge to cum. “Stop, I can’t-” he said short of breath.

Y/n lifted her head, her eyes meeting his.

“Come here,” he commanded. “I want to taste you.” Y/n’s wide eyed reaction made Thorin chuckle. Of course he had gone down on her before, but they had never done this way before.

Cautiously, y/n moved to where her pussy hovered above Thorin’s face. Her eyes looked everywhere except him. She was filled with excitement and nervousness.

“Y/n,” Thorin spoke in a deep tone, which made her shiver. “Look at me.”

Shyly, she peered down between her thighs. The intensity of his gaze made her heart skip a beat. With a firm hold, Thorin guided her hips down lower so he could begin.

She squirmed a little, as his tongue flicked over her clit, teasing it with quick licks.

“Thorin,” she begged, grinding against his face out of reflex, desperate for more than just his teasing.

He sucked on her bud, causing her to moan which encouraged him to continue. He sucked harder on the swollen bud making her buck her hips for more.

Thorin licked, slurped, and lapped up all her wetness while making the most obscene sounds. He tasted every part of her pussy as if he had been starving.

“Thorin,” y/n mewled. “I can’t last much longer.”

He nodded in response, “I need to be inside of you.”

He watched as she carefully she straddled him. Slowly, she lowered herself onto his cock adjusting to his girth. He groaned, arching his back at the delicious sensation of her tight cunt taking him to the hilt. She was so warm and wet.

Her pace started out slow at first,and worked her way up to building a steadier more raid pace. Thorin’s nails dug into her thighs, as she rode him.

“Fuck,” Thorin rolled his hips, wanting to be as deep inside of her as possible.

The sight of her on top of him was breathtaking, her head was tilted back, her hand cupping her breast, and her lips parted as she moaned his name.

Despite how sore he was, Thorin started to buck his hips erratically, fucking her harder. Y/n fell forward, placing her hands on his shoulders as he moved in and out of her. His pace was faster and rougher.

She whimpered, nails clawing down his chest as the walls of her cunt constricted around him. A wave of intense pleasure washed over her.

With a few more quick thrusts, Thorin cried out.His eyes slammed shut as he came. Hot spurts of cum filled y/n’s cunt.

They both collapsed, exhausted from the excursion. Y/n’s eyes fluttered closed almost immediately, nuzzling her face against his chest.

Thorin hissed as her face brushed up against a particularly sore spot.

“Sorry!” she shouted, springing up and getting onto her side of the bed, pretty much scurry away from him.

He laughed, “Get back here.”

“Are you sure?” She mumbled. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’ve never been so sure.” He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. “This is all I’ve wanted for days.”

#thorin fic #thorin oakenshield #thorin x you #thorin x reader #the hobbit thorin #thorin fanfiction #reader insert #female reader #the hobbit fanfic

[kaetastic]

YOUR EMPTY WORDS

pairing: Deceased!Regulus Black X Reader

summary: Regulus passing had left Y/N with creeping memories. Despite her attempts to warn his mess of an older brother, she had failed. Finally, her dead lover’s brother had met her once again.

word count: 3.2k+

warning: angst, mention of death, tears, denial, grief

note: NOT MY BEST WORK. Sorry, I haven’t been posting lately, I just finished my exams and though I read- my writing wasn’t that active. I’ve been feeling so empty with a hole inside of me, I feel like something’s wrong but I don’t know. Anyways, enjoy and take care 💕💓

A muffled force on the front door vibrated through the petite house. The faint fragrance of her freshly batch of sticky dough filled the air, a low hum produced by the oven as it heated the contents, a melody created by the ticking of the small timer that rested firmly onto the heating glass; the familiar smell coated her heart with joy as a short play of her past previewed itself in her head. The gluey lump connected her fingers like frail bridges that were pulled down as if a heavyweight stepped onto it. Her eyes glossed away from the counter that had been sprinkled over with flour, scattering as it prevents the ability for the dough to stick itself onto the area.

Nudging her head to peek below the overhead cabinets through the set of the wooden counter, shadows of feet blocked the sunlight as it plays a light show. The window had been closed with a curtain. That is how she liked it. It was no use if she had poked her head to take a quick glimpse of those who stood in front of the house for it was blocked by a tall-standing hedge. She cursed at her frequent memory loss of forgetting to remove it. How she always thought of doing it, to only end up not doing said-removing.  

“Just a minute!” She yelled out, frantically shaking her wrists over the sink, drips and strands plopped away to slam itself onto the walls of the vessel as it screamed a splatter. With a soft rinse, the leftover grease glazed her fingertips; nothing the apron couldn’t handle. The hurried wipes on the covered fabric left drag of her wet hands left a mark, like tracks of tires on a sludge of snow.

Shuffles of feet dragged across the vigorously clean floor with no left visible speck of dust, hard work clearly pays off. She cleared her throat, muttering short syllables words under her breath- wincing when it sounded too high. It was not often for her to have visitors nor guests, due to her detachment from society. She wore a widened smile, displaying her twinkling teeth. It lost. Corners of her lips quirked down like wilted flowers; pent up anger sipped through her. The discontent she had managed to stuff in a box jumped out as if the lock had cut open. The grip on the handle tightened at the face she wished she hadn’t met. The resemblance between him and his brother was too similar, she hated it. How dare he? Bringing up his face anytime he wanted. She gritted her teeth as her nostrils flared red, the prominent veins pulsed in her neck.

“I see you’ve taken the liberty and pack up all your chivalry to finally talk to me. What a delight isn’t it? Well, it was nice to see you,” Her hands flicked to slam the door shut with no hesitation, as if she had planned this a long time ago. Slight pride in her ignited at her wise choice. The only sound that echoed through the house was those emitted from the kitchen, the whooshes from the passing vehicles and the silence that placed itself between the trio and her. Not the sweet sound of the door meets the frame. Pent up rage prodded itself, if she was alone- with her own emotions, she could’ve fallen down on her knees and begged. Begged for the return of her fallen lover. However, it was accompanied. Sorrow didn’t come alone for it walked side by side with anger. The feeling she had to face all by herself to overcome the darkness that cowered over her.

In the corner of her eyes, she noticed another pair of heads that stood behind him. But the redness painted the background of Sirius. Maybe, just maybe- if he had come sooner, or if he was there to reassure of the loss of someone from both of their lives, she wouldn’t be so pressed or uptight about the situation. The sight of him sickened her. Narrowed eyes, she tried to ignore the poking words that desperately wanted to fall off her tongue. It took her a master to accept silence while her endless days of sleep as voices spoke to her, it had no mercy. The world had no mercy.

The tension between the two was so prominent, the passersby would glance at the woman who had her hair flared up with raging fire. The ball of aura that surrounded the pair waved thundering electricity. Even the youngest who wore round glasses pointed it out. He looked so familiar. But she couldn’t lay her finger on it. “What are you doing?” She stressed out every syllable, the grip she held on the door could’ve formed a dent, possibly cracked it in half if he managed to push her to the edge. Glancing at his foot that sat in between the frame and the door, preventing her ability to make a quick escape; a scowl formed on her lips.

Sirius’s untamed and wild hair matched well with his personality, crazy and on the verge of being labelled as a psychopath, or what the wizarding world has already named him as, a murderer. Or it was due to the fact it was windy. Nonetheless, she was sick of him. The brother of the man she loved had never bothered to check with her during the days all she wanted to do was let go. It was selfish for her to say that someone should’ve visited her regularly. But she had no one left.

Disappointment and frustration laced the air; a twinkle of content glittered in the space between them, “Please, hear me out Y/N.” She scoffed, she couldn’t help but be amused by his stubbornness and determination. As if she would do so. Arms crossed, she quirked an eyebrow at the wizard.

“What is there you could possibly say? Hm?” The papers of his face splattered on every wizarding walls she has walked by was being sharpened; ready to slither his throat. “Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be in Azkaban? Where you belong?” Sirius could not help but feel the drumming of his veins, a frail crack formed over his heart, that was emptied out by the hellhole he was forced to live in. Leaving nothing but blood pulsing out and all the joy he felt dumped out, sucked in by the grey creatures. Mouth gaped open, he was ready to speak out, to defend himself when someone had done so before he had the chance.

“Wormtail- Peter, I mean, was the one who killed those muggles, not Sirius.” With his string chord of a voice, he sliced the tension. Remus sent him a reassuring smile when he whipped his head back to face his long-life friend, his nearly only existing one. Harry glanced at the adults who stood in front of him with confusion stroked in his eyes, wondering with killing curiosity that terribly suffocated him.

Sirius cleared his throat to face the person he desired to sit with and talk about the thing that has been bugging him ever since. He couldn’t help but notice the glimpse of those who walked past, judging their choice of outfits for the sunny yet windy day, “Please Y/N, I beg of you. Let us in and we can talk.”

His voice irritated her. If she had to compare it to a sound, it would be like the screeching of fingers scratching a blackboard. Ever since Hogwarts, his voice was of nothing but whining, “Sirius is still considered as a vigilante, please?” If only the little kid wasn’t present, she would’ve slammed the door.

With a huff, she plopped herself onto the couch, the seat groaned at the abrupt addition of weight. Arms crossed with her back leaned onto the couch, her eyes narrowed towards the uninvited guests. She wouldn’t be in this situation if she would’ve just shut the door onto his face, just like he did with hers… and Regulus’. Although the unstable walls shivered, she had to be reasonable. Because that was how she had to cope with her farewell of her only lover.

  An ear-pitching screech from the timer rung through their ears but Y/N seemed unfazed, not flinching a muscle. The youngest of the group glanced at the open kitchen, towards the, what he hoped would be the silence breaker. As if she could feel the annoyance that twitched in him, she raised an open hand in the air- twirling her fingers without turning back to even glance at what she was doing. Harry stared in awe. The sight of floating utensils flew from one side of the kitchen to the other, some moved around, clashing with the metal sink before soft rinsing of water washed the dirty tools. ‘Magic is brilliant’ thought Harry. Even though being a wizard himself, he couldn’t help but feel his heart rise with light amusement. Harry watched as the door of the oven opened ajar- a tray pulled out, littered on it were treats and baked goods worth salivating for.

The still Hogwarts’ student flinched as a tray made its way to rest on the coffee table that separated the group. Somehow wary if she would poison him, Sirius reluctantly leaned forward to grab one of the filled glass. His sips laced with the sounds that echoed out of the kitchen as if someone was actually partaking in working in the kitchen.

   Remus couldn’t help it. He had already scanned the room. He hoped no one saw. He wasn’t nosy, just curious; he liked to call it as so. It felt like home. It was her home. There were marks that seemed sentimental or lovable. Cabinets with glass as a transparent material allowed the displayed items to show itself, a twinkling gold ball glittered into his eyes, Remus winced at the abrupt beam. She was never part of Quidditch. He remembered he had seen her sit on the field many times when teams were participating, he had never saw her on a broom. So he jumped to the right conclusion, it wasn’t hers.  

The throb of his heart was something he couldn’t ignore when his eyes landed on a framed photo of a grinning couple, who seemed to be the happiest on the world… as if nothing was against them.

  “So? Speak.” She knew she was being harsh, she knew she should’ve controlled the slash of her tongue. But if someone was to avoid you for years, when all you wanted was to sit with them- to converse with one another. To set a base, a foundation, she wasn’t at fault if she said her frustration got the worse of her. Sirius nodded, he cleared his throat as his mind formed the words he desperately wanted to speak out.

“Well, first off, I- uh, wanted to say sorry..,” A scoff fell of her lips at his words. That felt empty and worthless at such time. His eyes twitched, worry angered in his chest. Not wanting to misunderstand him, he did not hesitate to continue his words. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you- when my brother left. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, I was a mindless idiot!”

“I’m sure you still are.” Sirius ignored her comment.

“I was selfish… for two years you tried to talk to me, but all I did was ignore you.” His head fell down as his shoulders hunched in disappointment, forehead resting on his palm, massaging his temples in an attempt to eradicate the stinging tension.

A slight tinge of satisfaction grew in her chest when she heard the words she had been hoping for, dreaming of. The whole time she thought it would be over, the closure to her story, it wasn’t. It did not feel like the end of a chapter, it wasn’t her closure. There were too many words caught in her heart, all stuffing the chambers which bled., “How about your brother?”

Sirius snapped up to face her, confusion laced his eyes, the windows to the soul they say- if it was true, all anyone would be able to see were the joy memories he had, taken away by the monsters that walk on the floors of the prison, “Huh?”

The corners of her lips quivered at the thought of having a murderer sitting in her house, “Have you ever thought about him? His death? Have you ever mourned for his fall? You haven’t!” Remus was quick to shoot up to try his best to hold her down, his heart ached when she trembled, sobbing her tears that she had been familiar with ever since.

Although he had to maintain as the emotionally stabled one, the years he spent in Azkaban felt forever, it got him, “I have! He is my brother!” He couldn’t help but feel accused on as a finger was pointed at him. It was like the past all over again.

“You chose your friends over him!” It was true, ever since Sirius had been kicked out of the Blacks family- she had never seen him try to talk to his younger brother. The only time they conversed was the day after Sirius ran away to the Potter’s, she could still feel the silence had echoed through the great hall. It was merely a short one. But other than that, they were like strangers; who once had been so close, where the lingered strings were snipped off, the only connection that held frail between them.

Sirius had his own pride too, he was exhausted of being the one to blame ever since the accusation of the murders, without a thought, he yelled back with no attempt to cower the anger away, “He chose the dark side! How about you? You’ve walked willy nilly across the school, stuck to him! Surely you’ve too!”

Remus snapped his head to his friend, who panted with popped out veins, jaw clenched with crashed eyebrows. The body he held in his arms twitched, if it wasn’t for him- she would have crashed down and slumped onto the floor like a sack of potatoes. Her body goes limp. She tried to find comfort in it. The tremble in her voice flipped the cards of hearts upside down, “He was 18, and we were engaged. Where were you?”

His mouth fell to falter open at the overwhelming words that had summarized everything. The sentence that he had formed in his head now diminished at lost. Where was he?

“While you partied away from the house… he left. And though I tried to talk to you… it seemed like all the love you had for your little brother, didn’t even exist,” Silence now covered the house, no sound made by the kitchen as a heart ached. “Yes he chose the wrong side, but he did something you will never be able to, Sirius,”

Harry rested his gaze on her, “He was a man of his own words.” The two figures who were present understood none for only the two did. It finally struck him after realizing what she was going on about, Sirius’s eyes widened with sorrow, at the promise he had made with his little brother. Like a swirl of memory, hurricanes of grey twirled to his past, ‘Sirius! When we grow up… could you be my best man?’ The lightness that was familiar to his chest rose. ‘Of course Regulus.’

His face dulled, dragged down with no reflection in his eyes. ‘It used to be so simple.’ Ear pricking honks from the road echoed through the cracks of the house. No one spoke. The student finally raised his voice, still unsure if it was the right time to speak out for the reason they had paid her a visit, “We came to ask you… if you could help us with this…”

Time stopped. The pulse of transportation in her veins halted when they couldn’t believe what was truly left to display for her. Her lips met each other in confusion, but a sense of shock sent through her spine as her fingers brushed over the scrunched up piece of paper. The creases that were harshly folded seemed neat but the valleys between each quarter formed a river. River of her tears at the familiar handwriting. Her loud sobs filled the hurried air, quick to rest beside her was Remus who was ready to embrace her, softening her fall to the couch.

She thought the pain was over even if his belongings rested on her walls. She thought if she had a mutual understanding with the farewell. Who could’ve thought the sight of his writing stroke a heartstring?

“Of course I’ve seen him, I’ve seen him in front of me… I remember it like it was yesterday, cold and empty. In his presence, all I could call him was ‘My Lord’, words I wished I had never spoken.” The mumbles that fell of her lips were only audible if you say right next to her, the reason why Harry was glancing at the two men with confusion. He stroke them beams of signals, hoping they would get it and pass the message on. However, they never really bothered as they were so focused on her story.

“Did you… get the mark?” Y/N’s head looked up with slight reluctant, unsure if she should tell the story.

“I didn’t… he did. We had a fight and we stopped talking for a while, but, we always found each other after every petty thing,” She wore a faint smile that glinted with joy at the past memory, his face had been painted on the walls of her mind; she was afraid he would be nothing but a vivid dream. So she thinks about him often. “You-Know-Who didn’t mark me as he knew of my value. I had nothing, even though I came from a pureblood family,”

Harry met her gaze, “I had no one. When Regulus left, I had no one. I was alone,” The corners of her lips twitched at the tug of her heart. “He was so young when he left,” Her eyes fazed to the piece of paper between the student’s fingers. “He- he told me of his plans… but now, it’s just hazy. I don’t remember anything,”

Disappointment engulfed her heart as their eyes lit up with hope, glinted with content if they were able to get their next goal, diminished into pouts. “I’m sorry, I was of no help.” 

Harry’s eyes softened onto her fingers which would not stop but caress itself, her anxiety was exuding and prominent, “Thank you, for sharing your side of the story,” Remus grinned, hoping it wasn’t seemed force, it would be the last thing he would want her to assume. His fingers clasped her shoulder, reassuring her. “If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to owl me.”

Although she had lost, she had gone through the harsh levels of grief, denial and the depression that cowered over her- leaving her numb and empty; her vessel dumped with bouncing emotions, she had no one to talk about it to. No one. But now, she did. If she lingered the emptiness and the anger she held against Sirius- she would have to live with it. She wanted it no more. Y/N deserved happiness.

#regulus black x reader #regulus black #regulus x reader #harry potter imagines #harry potter oneshot #harry potter #angst #harry potter imagine #hp imagine #hp imagines #hp oneshot #hp oneshots #harry potter x reader

[inspirationdivine]

The Monster Mash || Lydia and Jared

Timing: Current Parties: @inspirationdivine & @themidnightfarmer Summary: Lydia and Jared meet in the woods in the evening

OR

The one where Lydia’s in “Cabin in the Woods” while Jared’s in “Snow White”

It was the safest Lydia had felt in weeks. The vampire would never be able to touch her, not for as long as his soul was missing. Remmy was safe, albeit heavily scarred, and there wasn’t all that much going on in her life. Soon it would be mushroom season proper, but until then, she was happily wandering the woods in the early evening sun, admiring the golden cast that the light shone on everything. The only artist better equipped than a Leanan Sidhe was nature itself. Lydia, lost in her own mind, didn’t notice them at first. The growling, cruel gnashing of teeth, the skeletons shaped like armour, the glowing green eyes. Lydia froze when she saw them, blood running cold. Barghest, or aufhockers. She’d seen them before, in the cage with Remmy, and could remember all too clearly the pain she’d heard from her friend. Lydia screamed, stumbling back, wondering if she was supposed to play dead or run or just prepare to die.

Jared was whistling quietly as he took a few of the pack out to scout for suitable stray bones to outfit themselves. This year's brood were wilder than the last and the nymph could not be more proud. But it was still something that they would need to be taught, and just like last year Jared accompanied them in their first search. The first bone on their armour would be attached by their mother in a show of tradition that Jared felt blessed to be able to witness every year. The mothers of the two litters took point far ahead of the rest, and they alerted an unfamiliar presence in the way they would in the wild. Except the protection of the pack fell to Jared, so they compensated for his poorer hearing by growling louder and more fiercely than they usually would for any of their own kind. He sped up his gate and emerged into the same patch of trees just as the woman screamed. His hands flew up first in surrender and then down by his sides to placate the bonedoggle mothers behind him. “Shhh shhhhh their hearing is sensitive!” he whispered hastily. 

“What??” Lydia yelled, stumbling back. A root caught her ankle and she fell hard onto her derierre in the dark foliage below. The beasts looked hungry, starved for food and ready to maul her to shreds. They were thinking about it, she could tell, planning how to tear out her throat. The man was absurd to think- Lydia swallowed down the thick saliva filling her mouth, taking a moment to feel the reverberation in her chest. “Get away from them! They’re dangerous!”

The bonedoggle mothers grew more upset at the consistent yelling. These mothers had been completely wild once, a two legged yelling like that was dangerous for them and they recognised it. Even if the words the woman was screaming were lost on them, the tone was familiar. Jared raised his hands again making a gesture he hoped translated to ‘pipe down’ to the woman. “Shh shhh, don’t scream. Screaming is freaking them out.” He hissed while making a slow path towards her where she lay on the ground. He took a knee next to her and turned to softly speak to the mothers. “Go round up the pups, girls. They’re heading this way.” He requested lightly with a calming smile and a small shooing gesture. They both gave the woman another feral look, one even snapping her teeth, before they took turns vanishing into the trees. Jared offered the woman a hand as he stood back up. “Did you sprain anything falling over?” He asks carefully. Feeling something vague about her, but nothing he could put his finger on. He’d never been told what meeting another fae felt like after all. 

“I’m screaming because they freak me out!” Lydia retorted shrilly, but tried to bring it down a decibel. He didn’t frighten her as he approached, how could he, when he was so obviously fae, and so clearly wrong about everything. He kept talking to the monsters like they might answer back, might listen, and oh lord, the things kept coming closer with their mouths definitely salivating for a meal. Lydia flinched back as one leapt forward to bite her (or so she thought) but missed. Then, one by one, they turned on their haunches and wandered away. Panting, Lydia took the Fae’s hand and stood, so clearly trembling. “N-no. How did you- how, what?”

He looked down at the woman with some sympathy as they stood. She was shaken by them, and rightfully so. Had Jared not been walking with a known pack, her chances against all 13 of them would have been slim, even with the majority being so young. Even if he didn’t see the threat he appreciated that others certainly did. Jared grew cagey then, unsure how to explain to a stranger what he was doing walking amongst monsters so casually as well as dismissing them from a meal without blinking. He held her hand firmly for an extra moment in both of his in the hopes that it would give her some courage back. “I just uh…” and he stumbled. What did he say? He hadn’t been prepared for this eventuality this evening. Letting her go he struggled for words. “I just uh..” he tried again. “Dogs you know….”

“Dogs.” Lydia replied, staring at him. Oh no, he was another. They clearly weren’t dogs, they were the furthest thing from dogs she could imagine while still being the approximate size and structure of the canine variety, but if he didn’t believe that they weren’t dogs, if he couldn’t feel the magical connection between them… Lydia swallowed, wrapping her arms around herself tightly as if she might feel less fragile because of it. “Do you not… feel anything?” Another poor soul.

Her tone spoke volumes and he decided in that moment to be a little reckless. “Well not dogs, but uh rather doggles.” Jared corrected himself bringing a hand up to chew on his thumbnail worriedly, the other arm crossed his chest to hold it steady. And then she inquired after how he felt and he was lost for only a single moment. Did she mean about the bonedoggles or about her? Because he most certainly felt something about her. He gestured with a finger between the both of them. “Between us? Uh...maybe? Are you...doing something to make that feeling? Like a memory I can feel, it’s weird.”

“Doggles? Is that like… doggo and pupper and other internet terms?” Lydia asked hesitantly. “Or is that their species name?” She honestly had no idea with him. He knew more than he was letting on, as he nervously chewed on his nail, but maybe not as much as one might think. What on earth did he mean, like a memory?  Lydia ran her hands over her clothes, shaking a few errant bugs off her. “No, I’m not doing anything. I- Might I ask, does the word fae mean anything to you?”

“Species… they’re called bonedoggles.” Jared told her hesitantly. He could know things about the supernatural species and not let on to what he was. This was fine. Her inquiry sent off alarm bells in his mind however and he took a full step backwards as subtly as he could. Just out of arm's reach if this were to go south. “Fae? Maybe, perhaps. Bonedoggles aren’t fae though…” That was always the same, the same awkward struggle towards an admission. He’d cave first, he knew he would. But if he could help it he’d cave in a way that didn’t out his farm. 

Lydia eyed him for a long minute after he’d finished, before clasping her hands together. “Oh, thank goodness. For a moment I thought you were serious about believing they were real dogs, when they looked…” Lydia swallowed, looking around as if they might hear her speaking ill of them, “So vicious. No, they aren’t fae. But you are and I am!”

“You’re fae too?” All cagey attitude was dropped as soon as she uttered those words. Jared heaved a sigh of relief and then caught himself. “Is that the memory feeling? It’s like, in my fingertips like I know you’re something but I have no idea how to describe it.” He was probably babbling nonsense, but he was so relieved and curious that he couldn’t contain himself very well. 

“Yes!” Lydia replied, her glamour blinking away for a moment to show her high pointed ears and her firefly wings peaking out from behind her back. “That’s just it. We’re blessed to know each other by instinct.” Her joy sank away, her head tilting as she stepped closer, carefully avoiding the branch that had tripped her before. How had he not felt it as loud as a siren when he’d held her hand for that moment. “Have you… not many other fae before?”

Her glamour flickered and he caught sight of her wings. “Amazing!” she looked far prettier in her normal skin than he did. Jared considered dropping his like she had hers, but instead did the bear minimum. He allowed only his 4 horns to appear from his hair in return. “Not uh, not so many, only a few. I didn’t know that was that feeling! I feel….stuff all the time so I guess I could have been writing it off as something else.” he explained to her. He then allowed a sheepish grin to cross his face. “Raised human I’m afraid. Not a very.... Not very in the know.”

Lydia’s eyes widened as he revealed his horns. Nothing like the elegant antlers of a lampade, but every bit of breathtaking. He had to be a nymph, their appearances were so varied and beautiful in equal proportion, and he was only showing so little of it. Lydia wished to see more. “They’re beautiful,” she murmured, once her breath was back. Although, he felt stuff all the time? What on earth did that mean? Everyone had senses for feeling things, but this was different than touching treebark. “You were raised human? It can’t have been easy. Wait… how did you? With those Doneboggles?”

Jared blinked back at Lydia and then smiled more widely. “You think so?” His hands raised to touch his horns, already covered over by the glamour again but he could still feel them. “Yeah, family of deniers too so you know how that goes.” He shrugged in a jovial sort of way, as if what he was describing didn’t sound like an awful way to grow up fae. “..oH right yeah. They’re my kids. I’m a nymph for vicious beings. You know… someone has to look out for them.” He paused a moment before asking that cheeky question. “And you?”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Lydia said softly, because it sounded so terrible. At least he wasn’t Regan, suffocated by his own denial. He was just lost and alone, like Jeff, in so many ways. “They’re your… children?” Lydia looked at him extremely skeptically, but she’d heard of nymphs of all manner of things. Still, she didn’t believe anything like those monstrosities could truly be changed. “Leanan Sidhe. Artistic inspiration.”

“Well I call them my kids, but they’re more my charges. My lot in life is to try my best to protect them I suppose?” There wasn’t a set path for any fae, but in times like these Jared reflected on wishing there were at least clearer baseline instructions. “Described as muses by google.” he recited from memory. Then Jared cringed and quickly added “No offence of course if that’s wrong. I just...human upbringing and all...not very well educated.” he explained with a small attempt at a laugh. 

“No, muse is a perfectly acceptable term,” Lydia laughed. “At least you’re willing to learn. That counts for a lot. So much, really.” She swallowed. How old was he? Twenty? Thirty? A Hundred? How lonely, especially for something that already left him so isolated, facing prejudice. Lydia thought of the skull Deirdre had brought her with a shudder. “So you… can communicate with them? Control them?”

Jared was immensely glad that he hadn’t offended the woman. “Very willing to learn about this stuff, I feel like I’m always missing something or other that I should be on top of.” he laughs more genuinely. Other fae always seemed to have more of an air of authority about them than he did, this woman definitely had a confidence in who she was at least after all. “Oh my kids? It’s more we have an understanding. We’re connected, it’s like...uh….that human theory of the string tied around someone's pinky finger? There’s a push and a pull to it. And not everyone is connected the same way, but we’re all attached if that makes sense? I respect them, and they in turn respect me. We listen to each other in a way?” 

Lydia listened curiously, looking up to the sky as the sun began to dip to behind the trees. No more golden  hour for them, but then this was so much better than something that happened every sunny evening. “I’m not sure I understand that all that much,” she replied, with a soft smile. She understood the words, the concepts, but couldn’t grasp what it really meant. It wasn’t control at all… maybe symbiosis? “It’s incredible, though, all the same. Sorry, we’ve been talking all this time and I haven’t even caught your name. I’m Lydia!”

“Hard to grasp I suppose unless you can feel it.” Jared settled for. The tug of his soul towards his creatures wouldn’t make sense to most. And that was okay. As long as he knew where he was with it, it was working out just fine. His mouth opened in surprise and then he offered his hand out to the other. “Oh damn yeah. I’m Jared.” he introduced in return. As as he said this one of the bonedoggle mothers emerged from the brush once again. This time accompanied by one of the pups. His eyes turned to her when he sensed her arrive and he tilted his head in her direction for Lydia to know she was there as well. “I promise she won’t bite you. She’s just being weary, her pups are taking a big step today.”

“Jared, lovely to mee- Aah!” Lydia yelped as the mother reappeared, but half way through remembered that she needed to be quiet around them, so stifled her mouth with her hand. She still jumped behind Jared, grabbing his arm and peering out behind him. “You can’t promise that! I relinquish you of your promise! Never make a promise about someone else’s actions! Especially- uh” Lydia swallowed. “A mom with her pups.”

The nymph laughed quietly at Lydia’s reaction. She was not the first, nor would she be the last, to hide behind him. Now that Jared had calmed to the other faes presence, the feeling was easy to convey over his connection to the mother doggle. Her teeth were no longer bared in protest and he smiled softly at her and her kin. The moment lost when Lydia indicated how stupid his word choice had been. “Oh fuck yeah, shit right. I...I’m usually better about that I really am.” he said, his blush thankfully covered by the glamour he wore, although his tone definitely gave him away. He glanced at Lydia and then spoke. “Bonedoggles are sensitive to sound like Bies are. Where bies will be startled away by it, doggles tend to attack anything making too much of it. That’s why we keep voices nice and low usually.” He nods at the two forms in the half light. “Her ears are at rest, she’s pretty calm now.”

Lydia eyed him, a tiny smile playing on her lips despite her fear.. Definitely a child fae, even if his demeanor was charming. “Right, of course.” She said, then swallowed, looking back at this hellish hound, and yeah, maybe her ears were at rest, but Lydia didn’t know what that looked like. “Calm. Right. I trust your judgement.” Lydia replied. It was easy to trust him through the wind chimes in her chest, even if she didn’t understand everything he was talking about. She didn’t know what a bies was, nor did the skeletal hound look calm to her, nor the young pups beside her cute. She still hid behind him, eyes wide as the darkening light made her skin glow. “Is she calmer because of you?”

His pride built when Lydia said that she trusted his judgement. From someone so new to him it was a surprising but every welcome comment. “I always say it is best to keep a good distance from doggles, but at the same timeI don’t want you to be worried about these right now. I’m here and I’ve got you covered.” Jared told her with a smile before gesturing for the doggles to go ahead and bring their bones to him rather than him going to them. He asked with a soft tone along with the gesture and the visible doggles departed, the few in the shadows Jared was unwilling to point out to the other fae just in case she panicked. “I suppose so. She reads my emotions like I can her’s, sometimes. I’ll admit meeting a stranger when I’m with something a human shouldn’t be is a little stressful. But I’ve calmed, so they have in response? If that makes sense?”

“I usually keep my distance from anything I can’t talk to and isn’t fae. Next time, I’ll just try to remember not to scream,” Lydia replied with an attempted casual laugh that pitched a little on the high end as the…. Bonedoggle came closer, and dropped bones at Jared’s feet. It was fine. This was just like Deirdre. Except, of course, that Deirdre wasn’t a terrifying beast, who didn’t attack at loud noises. So, really, they were the opposite of Deirdre. Lydia took a deep breath as they retreated, and stepped out from behind Jared. “That does make sense.” After all, right now could Lydia not feel the contented hum of Sammy glazing a sculpture? “No, of course I understand why that could have been alarming. Fortunate for both of us that we were who we were then.”

Unaware that Lydia was still hiding behind him somewhat, he unwittingly exposed her by vanishing from her side. Jared had crouched down to the small pile of bones being left at his feet, counting them out and discarding any that seemed too damaged to make a good first piece of armor. “I feel really lucky yeah. I now know what that feeling in my fingers is all about. I really didn’t have any idea it was anything like that. I thought it had something to do with my kids you know? I can feel the ache when they’re hunted, I thought maybe the good feeling was something good. Can’t help but dream huh?” he laughed lightly. Jared looked up realizing he was oversharing and shot a sheepish smile at Lydia. “Is being a muse hard?” he asked to change the subject. “I want to learn. I feel like I have tons to catch up on.”

Lydia’s smile twisted into something sadder. She didn’t understand the affection he felt for the beasts, but she knew well the feeling of losing a creature you were bound to. He looked sheepish, but her expression was only encouraging. “Well, do feel welcome to ask anything you might wish to know.” He changed the subject, and Lydia grinned, much happier to discuss this than to watch him sort through his bones.  “Is it hard? Not in the slightest. I can sense talent, and give people artistic inspiration with as little as a smile. Need to be careful about not drawing the attention of any wardens, but then, don’t we all? I rather enjoy my life.”

She was being generous and it brought a smile to his face. “I’ll be bothering you all the time. I only have one other fae to really ask, and she’s kind of busy a lot. I don’t like to bother her.” Or rather, Jared was promise bound to ask Morelia for help should he ever be in medical trouble, so when little things cropped up that he didn’t know about he hesitated to ask. “I don’t know an awful lot about wardens. ButI think so far I’ve done alright.” At least on the warden front. “Have you lived in town long?”

“It isn’t a bother. No one should live in ignorance of their heritage and culture, if they don’t wish it,” Lydia replied with a small shrug. “I could introduce you to other fae too, if you would like that,” she said softly. “There is not much to know about them other than that they are iron-skinned monsters that will kill you if they get the chance.” She shivered lightly as a cold breeze rolled through the forest. “Oh, probably coming up on 10 months now, I move every few years.” Hazards of immortality, really, and keeping her hunting grounds close to home. “What about you?”

As Lydia told him she was more than happy to tell him whatever he wanted to know he smiled. Jared smiled and looked back down at the doggles who were almost finished attaching their first bone to the pups. He jerked his head at the closest of the pups to have already been awarded their bone. Whispering a quick soft order to head home. “I’ve lived here all my life. Grew up here, never really left.” Jared offered Lydia his arm with a tentative smile so he could lead her out of the pack of doggles with as little stress to both parties. “What’s it like moving around a lot? Is it because of trouble with wardens or just becuase you like it?”

He’d lived here all his life and he still hadn’t met that many fae? Lydia took his arm comfortably, and followed him to what felt like safety. Already, she was planning a trip for him into the Mirror District. “Oh, a little bit of both. Well, it doesn’t help that I’m 70 and hardly look it to the human eye. Although, I must tell you about the time I had to move in 1987…” As they wandered off together, all that could be heard was the birds in the trees, the chatter of their voices, and not a single growl from the bonedoggles,

#para #jared #chatzy #wickedswriting

[svtsweet]

Not So Casual

A/N: Did I ghost write this? I swear there isn’t enough dom Vernon smuts out there so this is just afhajksvojfs Excuse me while I try and not die from writing this--

Vernon X (Fem) Reader

Summary: A casual night alone with your boyfriend begins just like any other but as things begin to get steamy between you, the usual becomes a thing of the past.

Genre: SMUT/ NSFW

Warnings: Daddy Kink, Oral Sex + Fingering (female receiving), Dirty Talk, Penetrative Sex

Word Count: 2400+

Candy wrappers litter your nightstand and add to the scattered to go boxes laid at the floor by your bed completing the neat mess. The movie playing on your laptop was slowly being sucked into the back of your mind, the silhouette of Vernon’s face highlighting the arches and plains of his figure. Your fingers give a slight tremble as they move towards his own little by little. It isn’t your first time holding hands but there’s just something about physical contact with him that causes your eyes to look anywhere but at him and hide within yourself like a turtle. Heck it took you a whole month to start hugging him casually. The thought alone sends chills down your spine as the memory of your first kiss crawls out of its cavern. You shake it off, forcing yourself to focus on the movie instead. It doesn’t come easy though. The contact of his shoulder against yours heats your cheeks in record time, fast than last Saturday when you did the same thing. And the Saturday before that, and the Saturday before that.

Vernon sits up straighter, his back shifting against your headboard. His right hand hovers over your laptop, adjusting it with feather-like touches as it sits on his lap. When he’s done, he settles it on the edge of the keyboard, eyes never straying from the screen. However, you’re still focused on his hand, his fingers curling and pushing slowly, the action driving it further to the bottom corner until his palm is floating over your jean-clad thigh. You bite your lip and glance at him. There is the smallest indication of a gulp, blush dusting his cheeks as you feel a warmth land at the side of your thigh. Although you tense a little, your stomach flutters at his touch and you release the breath you were holding when his fingers stretch along the expanse of your upper leg.

His voice breaks the thick silence between you, hesitant and careful. “Is-Is this okay?”

Simply nodding as an answer, you watch at the corner of your eye as his chest sinks down. He was tense. You also decide to move around a little since you felt your leg falling asleep, propping yourself on your hands to slide up only for your hand to slip and push down against Vernon’s hand. His fingers brush against your clothed core perking you up immediately. Yet just as quickly as it happened, Vernon pulls his hand back and apologizes softly. You nod again, the tingling sensation causing your thighs to press together. It felt good. You lick your lips and begin to fiddle with your thumbs. “You can put your hand back.” There’s a moment’s pause before you add, “If you want though.” Your voice trails after that.

Vernon doesn’t say anything, only gingerly places his hand back to where it was. The movie drags on, Vernon slowly gaining confidence to carefully trace the length up and down. Your thighs squeeze every time they near your crotch but other than that, you try your best to maintain your blank facade. It’s Vernon’s curiosity that draws him closer and closer, noticing your reaction the higher his hand goes. Then it stops, resting the farthest it can go without touching you where you want him to. You notice him bite his lip before quickly tightening his grip on your thigh. The action is so sudden you don’t have enough time to consider your own.

“Daddy,” you moan out. The flush that paints your face red is comes instantly, the word repeating itself like an echo that never fades.

“Daddy?”

There it is again. You hide your face in your hands, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes hoping it would take you away from the whole scenario. “I’m sorry.” It’s more a plead than request. Here you were, pulling kinks on your boyfriend when the most you’ve done was kiss, an action that already drained you.

Vernon can’t handle seeing you like this. “No no. It’s okay,” he reassures, voice soft like a lullaby. “Do you want me to keep going?”

His words shock you into a different dimension. Was he seriously okay with this? Were you? “Would that be alright?” You peek through your fingers to see him scratch the back of his head shyly.

“Yeah. I mean only if you want to.”

Your hands drop to your lap and you tilt your head towards his. Without meaning to, your gaze falls to his parted lips, pink and inviting. He takes your hint and closes the space between you. His lips graze yours for a short time before picking up the pace. They mold against yours, his tongue cautiously asking for entrance into your mouth. When you grant it, he leans into you, his body eventually leading you to lay down with your head on your pillows. For a moment, you start to forget what got you there in the first place, his deep kisses clearing all your thoughts. Your thoughts are tethered however when you feel him begin to unbutton your jeans. His movements are languid, your jeans only being pulled down with your underwear to your knees so he can have more time to focus on how much he likes dancing his tongue with yours. He breaks the kiss however to remove them, his eyes lighting up as they scan your exposed skin. You turn your head to look away and close your legs out of embarrassment.

“Let Daddy see you.”

His words do nothing to soothe you, in fact it’s the opposite. If your cheeks could overheat, they would definitely be steaming. Still, you allow him to gently pry your legs open. He lets out a sound of wonderment, taking too much time for your liking. Little did you know he could feel your tension. Gliding his hands up your calves, he hooks his thumbs underneath your knees to open you up so he could kneel and take a closer look. Him smoothly moving your top up to reveal your covered breasts does nothing to help. You could die of embarrassment right then and there.

You jolt when you feel the tips of his fingers spread your lower lips. “Can Daddy play with your pretty pussie?” With your stomach lurching itself into your throat, you bob your head up and down sending Vernon’s lips to curve into a small smile. Tentatively, his index finger prods at your entrance, circling around it until he eases it in. You let out a long breath when he pushes up to the second knuckle, rotating it back and forth. The slick sounds that come from your arousal surprises you and Vernon. Content with how it’s going, Vernon inches the rest of his finger inside of you, ears perking when you begin to whine. It stings, but not uncomfortably. He repeats his motions from before, a second finger joining when your back arches. The stretch causes you to frown. You need more stimulation.

“Can...you curl your fingers...please?”

At your request, he bends them up. “Like this?” You don’t even need to answer, the loud moan that rips your throat when he pokes at your sensitive spot being answer enough.

“Does it feel good babygirl?” His voice is darker, nothing like the sweet, pure Vernon you thought you knew. Then again, nothing like tonight is like usual. “I want to hear you babygirl,” he warns.

“Yes Daddy,” you finally reply. “It feels good.”

“Faster?”

You shake your head, your core shaking at the words that leave your mouth. “No, just deeper.”

Vernon chuckles almost innocently. “My fingers aren’t that long.”

You have to take several deep breaths to continue, your high inching closer. Forcing yourself to look into his eyes, you give him a response that has his eyes widening but his fingers not stopping their hitherto motions. “Are you sure?”

“Please Daddy. I want your cock.” You barely have the energy to give him a reply with how fast your high is approaching.

It’s mortifying how easy it is for his fingers to slide back out, the squelching just about driving you to bury yourself underneath the covers while Vernon fishes out a condom. Actually seeing how hard he became, you sit up and ask, “Do you want me to...?” pointing down to his erection, the glint in your eyes suggesting to offer some relief for him.

He follows your eyes to his lap, blinking rapidly at the unexpectedness of your question. “Uhm, yeah.” He smirks at you causing your knees to buckle. He could get used to this new you. “Show Daddy how much you want it.”

With that, you bite your lip and kneel in front of him, your legs wobbling with the how his fingers prepped you. He watches as you slip out his hard cock out of his pants and briefs eager to see just what he looks like. You have to close your mouth to keep yourself from salivating all over him. Giving him a small lick, your chest swells with pride at the low groan that sends vibrations down his body. Your tongue laps at the precum already forming at the tip, the hand at the base dragging up in a dry jerk. Vernon hisses, his hand tracing up your neck and to your cheek, delivering a small pinch.

“If you want Daddy’s cock you have to be a good girl.”

Mumbling an apology around his length, you go back to licking it. Base to tip, scooping out the precum that leaks and spreading it all over until he’s glimmering, Vernon enjoys your submissiveness and the satisfaction it gives him. While he does like seeing you lather him up, he gently pushes you off and lays you back down so he can fish for a condom. It doesn’t take long for him to rejoin you, his chest now bare and the only clothing between you being your bra and shirt. He takes notice of this and starts peeling your shirt off. He reaches for your straps but stops in his tracks seeing how you clutch the pillow by your head tightly opting to press light kisses on your collarbone, drawing up to your neck and sucking softly.

The tip of his cock pokes at your entrance, his mouth a decent distraction from your stress. How badly will it hurt? He’s more on the slim side but his length is what causes your breath to hitch. Your hands travel to his hair, your fingers wrapping around his locks casually and when you feel him starting to enter you, your eyes close shut. The pain isn’t instant, more uncomfortable, but as more of him gradually fills you up, his groan muffled by your skin, the slight stinging shifts to sharp pain. You wince, tugging at his hair without meaning to. Vernon lifts his head from the bruise he was creating on your neck to check on you. Alarm is encased in his eyes as he tries to form the right words to say but you beat him to it.

“Please ru-rub my clit Dad-Daddy,” you whine, hoping it would be enough to elicit more pleasure.

Vernon has to wrack his brain in order to follow your request, and fast. He needed you to loosen up, literally and metaphorically. With how tight you were wrapped around him, it was very hard to think straight, and stay hard. That’s why he sighs in relief when you lead his hand to your bundle of nerves. Thankfully, Vernon catches on and settles his thumb there, slowly rolling it in circles to soothe you. Soon, your breath returns to you and you motion for Vernon to continue. Your heart is pounding when his hips meet yours, his cock twitching in anticipation. His lips lock with yours once more, his hands straying to your waist as he pulls out halfway and sinks back in. His pace is sluggish, every once in a while pushes as far as he can and staying there.

“Does babygirl like being fucked by Daddy?” His lips brush against yours as he asks the teasing question, dropping back down to swallow your moans.

You break from his kiss, craving for more. “Daddy, more please.” You pull at his hair again as his cock grazes against your g spot.

He smiles. “Sorry babygirl but you feel so good, Daddy can’t get enough.” At your pout, he concedes, his leisurely thrusts speeding up to a steady rhythm, his thumb picking up as well. You moan as that familiar sweet sensation begins to consume you. Vernon groans, his hot breath fanning your cheek and you realize that his hand wandered to your rib cage, his fingers playing with the side of your bra. He lays his head in the crook of your neck, grunting occasionally, the sounds adding to your pleasure.

“Daddy I think I’m close,” you moan.

Vernon’s face is rough, rushing to get his words out before they’re lost. “Yeah babygirl? Want me to go harder now? Want me to really fuck you?”

“Yes Daddy, please.” One of your hands falls to his back, his solid muscles only driving you closer to the edge.

He groans as he feels your nails dig into his shoulder blades. “Good girl.”

His thrusts quicken, thumb going in faster circles on your clit urging on your climax. Vernon’s moaning becomes louder, higher, and you follow, your cunt clenching tighter than your hold on Vernon. He cums into the condom with a deep groan but still thrusts to push through his high and make sure you finish too. Your release crashes over you like a wave, your moan being muffled as you bite his shoulder harshly. Yet you don’t have time to react as Vernon smiles down at you after grimacing at the initial pain causing you to do the same. You lean to kiss him, entangling your fingers in his hair endearingly. At the end of your kiss, he pulls out and gets off the bed to dispose of the condom.

“You’re a lot kinkier than I thought,” he calls from the bathroom.

Shoving your face into the pillow, you groan, “Don’t start Hansol.”

The bed creaks with his return along with your shirt and panties which he helps put on. After he slips back into his own clothes, he laughs seeing your laptop at the corner of your bed. You had forgotten to pause the movie.

#seventeen #seventeen scenario #seventeen smut #vernon #vernon smut #vernon scenario #i'm back!!! #i swear these are getting longer #but i couldnt help myself #and being sick didnt help #also not as kinky as it could be #because its a first time

[fandomsentertainment]

Iqi: The Arrival Chapter Eight

Please go check out the whole story on Wattpad! Thank you for your patience in waiting on this chapter! I had a lot of things going on and since this chapter is a turning point in the novel/ novella/whatever I wanted to get it right!

https://www.wattpad.com/story/135795678-iqi-arrival

“I can not believe you read the entire thing,” Hermione shook her head at me in disbelief opening up her package.

“I can’t believe you ordered more clothes,” I raised an eyebrow at her setting the Quran down on her nightstand.

“What? I got something for you too this time!” she grinned.

I plopped down on her bed. “Hm.”

“So did you enjoy your read,” she asked still digging through her package.

“It was surprisingly similar to both the Bible and Tanakh. But I guess that’s to be assumed considering they have similar origins,” I sighed. “I can’t believe humans have so much conflict with each other simply because of vague differences in these texts. I can ever imagine any written word being moving enough to inspire such violence.”

“Eh, humans were slaughtering each other long before any of those books were written so it’s more likely that people are just trash and the books are excuses,” Hermione said shimmying on some boots.

“I don’t think people are trash,” I muttered.

“That’s why people love you,” she laughed. “When’s your next session anyways?”

“Two days from now. Tuesday.”

“Good, any cancellations?” Hermione asked walking up to the mirror to admire her shoes.

“Only one. But that spot was fill up pretty quickly so security had time to run a background search on them,” I stood up. “I’m hungry. Can we order some food?”

“Sure. What are you craving?”

“Jamaican.”

Hermione grinned at me. “If someone told me a year ago that my alien brother would ask me for some Jamaican food I’d laugh in their face.”

“I think you’d laugh in their face regardless,” I smiled.

“Ha! Yeah, you’re probably right. Go see if Willoughby wants anything, I’ll start ordering on Grubhub. What do you want?”

“Brown rice, oxtail and fried plantains,” I could feel my mouth already salivating at the thought.

Hermione chuckled to herself. “Alright.”

I walked down the hall to Dr. Willoughby’s lab nodding to the patrolling security as I went. It was always strange walking into the lab knowing it was specifically designed to study me. I could see sample of my hair, blood, feathers and skin organized neatly around the lab. Dr. Willoughby slept peacefully at her desk, her head resting on a thick open book. I smiled and walked up to her resting my hand on her head softly and waiting for her to stir awake.

“Iqi,” she yawned loudly. “Do you need something?”

“No, Hermione and I are ordering some Jamaican food. We were wondering if you wanted any?”

“Aw, you’re so sweet,” Willoughby stretched, still yawning. “Yes, can you get me some jerk chicken and rice. Oh and a sprite too!”

“No problem,” I began to walk off. “Also, I know I’m suppose to just let the security do their jobs but should I ask them if they want anything as well?”

“I’m sure they would love that. It must get boring patrolling a high security building, nothing ever happens here,” Willoughby stood up and opened a draw, pulling out a small notebook.

“Here,” she said. “Write down what they want and give it Hermione. I’m sure she has more than enough money with that session you have coming up on Tuesday.”

“Thank you,” I smiled taking the notebook. I wrote down jerk chicken, rice and Sprite on the first page.

“No, thank you. Also could you drop by after lunch so I can take some blood samples?”

“No problem,” I called walking out.

It only took about fifteen minutes to gather everyone’s order but Hermione was an impatient woman.

“Where the hell have you been? I’m starving,” she scowled.

“Sorry, it took a while to get everyone’s order,” I apologized holding out the notepad.

“What do you mean… You took everyone’s order!” she gasped.

“Yeah, Willoughby said you’d have enough money for everyone,” I frowned sensing Hermione’s irritation at me.

“Ugh, that moralistic…” Hermione shook her head. “Okay I’ll order it just this once but next time we order food it’s just you and me.”

“Sorry,” I said.

Her expression softened. “Don’t worry about it kid.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did.”

I scowled at her response. “Where do you get money from? I thought you needed a job to get money.”

Hermione laughed. “Not in this digital age my dear brother. As the creator of your website I get a small percentage off of the sessions you have with the public. Considering how much people are willing to cough up to meet you that small percentage in usually a significant amount of money.”

I frowned. “I thought we were going to keep it affordable for the everyday person.”

“We are,” she reassured me. “With each session we sell eight tickets at a reasonable price. The last two however are left up to a bidding war so the price rises significantly with those two tickets. This way the poor can buy a normal ticket while the rich fight over these two opportunistic tickets.”

“How much do they usually sell for?” I asked.

“Hmm, anywhere from $500,000 to a million. The session you had with that Arabian prince was $2.4 million! Can you believe that?” Hermione laughed.

I tried to imagine 2.4 million water bottles. It was… difficult to comprehend that amount of wealth.

“Alright the food is all ordered. It came up to $345.67,” Hermione sighed. “Plus tip is like $70 so… Christ that’s like $415!”

“Sorry,” I apologized again.

“It’s alright. Willoughby was right that I can afford it but it’s better to save money then blast it.”

I looked around her room littered with new purchases and nodded in agreement.

“Hey Iqi,” Willoughby stuck her door in the doorway. “That Katherine girl is on TV right now.”

“Really!” I grinned.

“Yep channel 8,” Willoughby laughed.

I got up quickly to head to the living room.

“Jeez where’s the fire?” I heard Hermione say behind me.

I plopped down on the sofa and used the remote to get to channel eight. There she was. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. It was straight like mine rather than curly now. She had a very serious expression on her face as she walked up to the podium. She was wearing traditionally male human garments. They made her look intimidating. She faced the camera and began to speak.

“Good evening. My name is Katherine Ahuja and I am the co-CEO of SOUS - Study of Unusual Species. Ever since we have come out as a public company there have been many speculations about what the species we study exactly are. Who we are and what are we trying to achieve. I stand before you today to put these questions to rest - but I should warn you that by answering these question I will be generating more questions.”

“Ooo ominous,” Hermione said taking a seat next to me.

“She looks scared,” I said.

“Her company is suspicious as fuck. With all the recent hacks she probably is scared,” Hermione said.

“First of all I will introduce to you the one creature that is the reason SOUS has stayed so secretive all these years. We all know now that we are not alone in the universe as sentient beings. But what you don’t know is that we are not even alone on our own planet,” Katherine said.

“Is she talking about me?” I asked.

“No, everyone already knows about you,” Hermione was watching intently now.

“No, I am not talking about our brother from the stars, Iqi. We have cousins, who live beneath the sea. They’ve been here for thousands of years, in hiding. But some of them are ready to come out and join hands with humanity if we will allow them. Iqi’s arrival and openness with the public has paved the way for these cousins of ours. And it is my honor to introduce you all to Ler and Kym,” she gestured to the curtain behind her which opened to reveal a large glass wall.

Behind the wall was water and two creatures came into view. The crowd on the tv were silent as the larger of the two swam up to the wall. I’ve never seen a creature like this. It had the upper body of a man but the lower of an aquatic mammal. He was at least twice the size of a normal man and covered with short grey fur with a long black flowy mane of hair. He smiled adoringly down at Katherine Ahuja who smiled tightly back up at him. The other was a younger, smaller female who seemed to be with child.

She turned back to the public. “Humanity I’d like to introduce you to your cousins: the Homomare, or in plain language the Selkie.

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #human manuel #space australia #earth is space australia #spacetravel #iqi #Iqi:Arrival #Katherine Ahuja #selkie #grubhub #hybrid #angel #quran #kuran

[wotcherpotter]

JILY CHALLENGE APRIL | @wotcherpotter vs. @mollyraesly

TITLE: Bae-watch

PROMPT: “You’re the new lifeguard at the pool I go to, I’m going to impress you with a front-flip swan dive while you’re on duty and whoops it was so bad you tried to rescue me - this is embarrassing” AU

Find me on:      archive of our own | fanfiction.net

A/N: Hiyaaaa, this is my first time writing anything jily after reading it for several years. Title is corny as hell, and most of this one shot is but I happen to think corny is one of the best genres.

Lily joined her family at the table for breakfast on the first Sunday of her summer break. She had always been the last to rise, a trait that had only become more prominent the older she grew. The sun shone through the window and danced on the fiery red of her hair, warming her shoulders. Two slices of toast were placed on the table in front of her mother, and Lily eagerly thanked her whilst she spread several layers of jam on each. Her sister, Petunia, looked at her across the table with disdain. Lily poked her tongue in retaliation. She caught her eye with her father over the top of the paper, and could just make out the hint of a smile from the crinkles by his eyes.

Lily picked up the entertainment section of the paper that her father had left for her on the table. She was flicking through the pages aimlessly, when a small advert in the corner of one of the pages caught her eye. Queen were scheduled to perform at a venue closeby towards the end of the summer. Lily nearly fell out of her seat in excitement. She ran to the kitchen where the phone was on the hook, and dialled the number of her best friend. Lily tapped her foot impatiently, and curled the cord around her finger whilst she waited. After a few rings, someone at the other end finally picked up.

“McKinnon residence, this is Michael,” a deep voice answered.

“Hi Mike, it’s Lily. Is Marlene awake yet? Actually, I doubt she is but this is extremely important, can you go get her, pleeeeeeease?” Lily tried her sweetest, most persuasive voice.

She needn’t have bothered, as Mike would take any opportunity to annoy his older sister. He didn’t say a word to Lily, but she could here the yelling as he jumped on her in bed. There was a kerfuffle when someone picked up the receiver, and then Marlene’s voice was finally at the other end of the line.

“This better be good.”

“My dearest friend, I would never wish such ill fortune on you if it wasn’t of paramount importance,” Lily teased.

“Oh, spit it out. I’m hungry now that I’ve risen from my beauty sleep, and I can smell bacon in the kitchen.”

“Queen is coming to Cokeworth!” Lily squealed.

“Are you pulling my leg?” Marlene said grumpily.

“I wouldn’t dream of it when it comes to Queen, Marls. What do you take me for? Some kind of ignoramus?” Lily giggled down the end of the receiver.

“You are far too chirpy for this ungodly hour.”

“It’s past ten,” Lily deadpanned.

“Ha ha. So how are we going to get tickets?” Marlene questioned.

“Well, I got offered that job at the pool over the summer. Have you heard anything from the library yet?” Lily bit into her second piece of toast as she asked, and crumbs littered the top of er pyjama shirt.

“Nothing yet. Though I think that has something to do with the fact that Mrs Pince just has it our for me. I swear the old bat detests anything that’s not a book,” Marlene complained.

Lily could practically hear the sound of Marlene’s eyes rolling through the receiver. Before she could respond, her sister appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, signalling to Lily that she wanted to use the phone as well. Lily put her hand over the receiver and looked at Petunia with irritance.

“What is it, Tuney?” Lily moaned.

“I’m expecting a call from Vernon any minute, I need you to get off the phone. Now,” she said with finality.

“Why should I? Your phone calls aren’t any more important than mine.”

“Grow up Lily, just give me the-”

“No, I’m not finished talking to-’

“Girls!” A new voice shouted.

It was their mother, and an unnaturally stern look painted her features. Silence reigned throughout the kitchen, as their bickering had ceased. Lily instantly felt guilty for being ridiculous. She knew money was tight at the moment for her parents, and she usually did everything she could to keep that stress as low as possibly. There was just something about her sister that got under her skin.

“I’ve got to go Marls. Meet me at the pool later for my first shift.” Lily said, hanging the phone back on the hook on the wall.

She avoided making eye contact with her sister as she walked out of the kitchen, as she didn’t think she could bear the smugness that had inevitably crossed her bony face. She trudged back upstairs to her bedroom to get ready for the day. She reminded herself that she was getting out of the house and away from her sister, and she was being paid for it, and didn’t feel so bad at all.

****

When Lily arrived at the pool later that day, there were people everywhere. She couldn’t say she too surprised - this summer was expected to be the hottest on record - but it was slightly overwhelming when your first day working as a lifeguard was for a pool with hundreds of people. She tried to put her nerves away with the rest of the things in her locker. She had managed to bring her heart rate back down to a normal pace, and started to walk out the building to the pool.

“Alright, Evans?” A familiar voice called out to her.

She froze. She knew exactly who that voice belonged to, and up until very recently the owner had been the bane of her existence. Some higher being must really hate her, because now the sound of that voice was enough to turn her legs to jelly. She could picture him now; his golden skin contrasting with the jet black mess of his hair, a gleeful grin ever-present on his face. No doubt the rest of the Marauders as they called themselves were in tow, and Lily was all alone with no one to keep her upright should she faint. She of course, couldn’t admit defeat and let him know that she had a soft spot for him, she didn’t want to look like a fool after all these years of loathing him. She realised too late that several minutes had passed without her saying anything, standing frozen in the middle of the entryway to the pool like a deer in the headlights.

“Er - Are you actually alright, Lily? You seem a bit pale,” James said, concerned lacing his tone.

“Haven’t you noticed that before? Maybe you need some new glasses, Potter,” she snipped, walking off to the patrol tower.

“What did you say this time, Prongs?” She heard someone say, Remus, if she had to guess.

She blocked the rest of the conversation out, as she was trying to calm her nerves again. So, not only was she now dealing with an overfilled pool on her first day, she now had to overcome the distraction that was James Potter. And what a distraction he had recently proven to be.

Lily perched herself atop the lifeguard tower, doing her best to oversee the visitors to the pool. Hers had a mind of their own, and kept drifting back to the area where James and co. had positioned themselves. She watched as he took his shirt off, and nearly fell the couple of metres off the tower. She had never really noticed before, but apparently being captain of their school’s football team had a couple of perks (other than everyone in the school wanting to be your best mate). Unfortunately, she was caught in the act by the only other person she loathed more than Potter: Severus Snape.

She couldn't even understand what he was doing there at the pool; he hated the sun, people and swimming. Surely the local pool during summer was his own personal hell. She could see his snarl from across the pool, as he followed the path of her eyes to where she’d just been staring. She watched as he made his way over to her, and rolled her eyes. She knew exactly what was coming. Where was her best friend to save her from all these dastardly men?

“Whatever happened to ‘Potter is an arrogant toerag I want nothing to do with?” She heard him yell from the bottom of the tower.

“Leave me alone, Sev,” she sighed.

“You’re practically salivating watching him take his shirt off, just like every other girl in our year,” he snarled.

She had had enough. She climbed down, fuming as she went. He was slightly taller than her, and when she was on the ground she had to look up at his waxy skin to catch his eye.

“I told you to leave me alone. I don't want anything to do with you anymore, Sev. You made your choice; I can't be friends with someone like you anymore.” She was stern, not showing a trace of weakness.

“What's going on over here then, Snivelly?” a new voice sounded from behind her.

Lily felt her heart jump into her throat. James had walked up beside her whilst she was preoccupied. Any coherent thought and had flown the window, and all she was worried about was whether or not she had remembered to brush her hair. That was until she remembered the scenario in which he had entered, and her temper flared.

“I don't need you fighting my battles, Potter,” she said, nostrils flaring.

She saw Severus roll his eyes.

“You know me, Evans, I’ll take any excuse to to knock Snivelly down a few pegs,” James said.

He was smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes in the way that made her melt. It was more of a snarl, and it left a bitter taste in her mouth. She turned back to Snape, her arms folded.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to work. Both of you, leave me alone now.”

She climbed back up the tower, thus ending the conversation. She was suddenly hyper-aware of the close proximity between her butt on the ladder and James’s head. A blush fanned across her cheeks, and she was thankful neither of them could see her face.

Back up in the safety of her tower of solitude, she watched over the pool. Sev eventually left the pool, relieving her of at least some of the stress of the day. For a brief period, there were no incidents; that was until, James decided to make use of the pools facilities. She watched from the tower, as he walked around to the diving board. He climbed, surpassing the 3ft board; he kept climbing, past the 6t board; until he eventually reached the board 9ft above the pool. She followed his eyes to where his friends were sitting; they were all egging him on, thumbs up and cheering. Lily rolled her eyes. All four of them were idiots.

Her head snapped back when she heard the creak of the board bounce. It didn’t sound very sturdy at all, and all the  muscles in Lily’s body tensed as she watched him. He lost his footing slightly on the last bounce, and fell into the water with a loud splash. Lily dove into the water in an instant. She kicked as fast as she could, her heart racing. How could be be so STUPID, she thought angrily. A stream of bubbles followed her to where James was still sinking to the bottom. She lugged him up to the top, and they both spluttered and gasped for air.

“Alright, Evans?” James asked.

His ever-present grin was plastered across his face, though Lily thought she saw a pinkish tinge to his cheeks. It was probably the only time in her life she had seen his hair flat, though he wasted no time in messing it up again.

“What were you trying to do, you giant idiot!” Lily shrieked in reply.

“It’s not my fault the diving board is a hundred years old!” He remarked, incredulously.

“It doesn’t take a genius to think twice before using it then, does it James?” She rebutted.

“Lucky I have you here to save me from being a bellend then,” he said, softly this time.

“How am I supposed to always save you from being a bellend, James? That’s a 24 hour job and when would I get time to sleep?”

“You and Remus can take it in turns, I expect.”

“You drive me mental, you know that right?” She said, exasperated.

“I’d have to be a bellend not to,” he said, smirking.

She splashed water in his face, taking him by surprise. His mouth gaped in shock, and she laughed with her whole body. He tackled her, wrapping his arms around her body so that she couldn’t get away. A shiver ran through her body, and her cheeks began to heat up again. He loosened his grip just enough so that she could turn to face him. A similar tinge of pink coloured his own cheeks, and it made her feel like jelly. He leant in, and her breath hitched in her throat. His lips touched hers ever so softly, and she could feel the warmth of his breath.

“Oi James, quit snogging and get back here we’ve got hot chips!” She heard Sirius’s voice yell.

She smiled against his mouth, and noticed a definite red spreading across James’s cheeks. He unfurled one of his arms around her, presumably to toss Sirius the finger as she heard him whoop with laughter and walk away. He kissed her again and she wrapped her arms around his neck, twirling her fingers in the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Think I can persuade you to watch over me?” James asked.

Lily pulled back, pursing her lips in feigned deliberation.

“You know my eyesight is shocking, so I can’t actually see whatever face you’re pulling. Your ethereal beauty is lost on me without my glasses,” he sighed.

“Shut up, Potter, or I’ll change my mind.”

#jillychallenge #mollyraesly #jily #jily fanfiction #marauders au #james potter #lily evans #my writing #james x lily

[mamgt]

Comfort Food

Sunday afternoon and it looked like nothing like an afternoon. The clouds covered the skies, concealing the warm sun until all was left was a little light, enough to still call it day. A mist swirled around the quiet spaces of the newly built house of Uncle Gene where he had half a court to play basketball in and a garage that was steep going down. All pretty cemented and gray. For some reason, the wind blew differently there like it was a remote place detached from the street in front of it. It always seemed like it was going to rain. My father had thought about this and made it an opportunity to have some hot chocolate. He dropped the whole tablea on the pot and my sister had to salvage it by adding more water. The smell of chocolate, pure chocolate crack the misty air. It was the kind of smell that trickled down to your stomach, making you all cozy inside. It was a thick, rich brown mixed with muscovado that encapsulated the heat of the fire and once you take a sip, it spreads all over your body until the pinky toes.

Family started coming, filling in the house with bodies, hushed conversations and potluck. Cousins gathered together in a corner, in-laws in another and Lola’s children - all loitered around - trying to take a sneak peek of the dishes for tonight’s dinner. Dim lights were then turned on, creating shadows on the walls, under the tables, and beside people. And so it began. Banana leaves sat on the tables were arranged vertically in the garage to create one long table. Voices grew louder and conversations were overlapping each other in chachat-chachat sort of way. One by one they laid out the food, bringing life to the dark green surface - chunks of Adobo, liempo in bite size pieces, grilled shrimp oozing with butter, Pinakbet still fresh from Lola’s big pot, the mandatory pancit canton from Lola Indang’s and in the middle of it all lay soft, sticky, steaming white rice. Lips were being licked and eyes were full of anticipation.

But we had to constrain ourselves. There was still prayer to be said. All you could do was close your eyes, in reverence...or to prevent yourself from salivating.

The site suited the title Hunger Games more than the books did. No spoons. No forks. Just hands grabbing what they can and fast for when you shared a banana leaf with the Tamayo’s everything could be gone in a blink. Hands swiftly moving from the leaf to the mouth, some in a crazy tempo of up-down, up-down, others just ate like crazy. You couldn’t tell whose hands were who and who you were standing next to. Bodies were pressed closely to the table that it created a force field for anyone who would attempt to go in. There was that fear that if you left, you would lose your spot completely.

Mouths smothered in butter and toyo, and no one said a word, no one looked up, and the only sound you would hear is your own chewing. Faces had brows knit so closely together as if they were trying to figure out a math problem, probably trying to decide of what ulam  to eat next. In those moments, you couldn’t tell a cousin from an aunt. There was just one single goal running through each and everyone’s veins, pounding on chests, and whispering into ears: eat.

No one left to get water until the massacre was finished and like any professional serial killer, there was no trace. It was as if the food has somehow evaporated into the fluorescent light bulbs. Mouths were cleaned through drinking water, hands were cleaned off in sinks with soaps that smelled like cherry blossoms. When the table was cleaned up, it completed the image that no such frenzy happened only moments ago.

Although, there was a change in the air. Busog to the point that shirts could burst at any moment gave some sort of warmth that could drag eyelids down and leave faces with a faint smug like it knew a secret no one did. Conversations were lighter (when bellies weren’t) and more comical that hefty laughter bounced off the walls and echoed the sky. It was as if everyone was in a hazy state of happy. Anyone could bring up a joke and it would be funny to the youngest of cousins to Lolo, who usually, didn’t know what was happening. In the dark of the night, there was glow that couldn’t heave come from the dim lights.

There was something so natural about being around family. It was just assumed that being around them was synonymous to being comfortable. The craving for a sense of familiarity and the company of people who genuinely love you (regardless of you stealing the last buttered shrimp from their grasps) was as human craving as for a nibble at that liempo. As candid as you are when you eat, you were your most self around people whose blood you share runs through your veins. You didn’t need to try so hard, no need for spoons or forks, just you bare self.

Outside this cemented garage, they were CEOs and Scholars but in the midst of family, all titles were stripped off. All you have to do is be. They’re the cup of water that could salvage too much tablea. They’re the little crack of warmth (that you could feel until your pinky toes) when life gets too draft and cold.

Some history behind this story.

It was an actual event that I had to rack my brain for because I needed to write a paper for my En11 and submit to this prof who I am 190% hates me. I got a B+ here but that’s not the point because he made my first year a living hell.

I’ve edited some parts because I felt like they didn’t suit the flow of writing but most of it is the original writing. Never thought it sounded so good until my sister had found it among the litter and brought it back from the grave.

#short story #shortstory #own #story #filipino