#still tweaking how i draw him... still not fully satisfied

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

there is something so so so Appealing about angry/irritated Barnaby. it scratches an itch in my brain. somethin somethin comic relief characters getting to break their mold and be outwardly unhappy

#plus it just looks... Nice on him yk yk #i sat down to do a lil character study and Next Thing I Knew barns was ready to Throw Down #still tweaking how i draw him... still not fully satisfied #except for the center scribble #theres a reason its on its own. its my fav of the bunch #and also the happiest ive been with a scribble in a While! #everybody hold on im shifting into barnaby mode #kidding kidding. maybe. we'll see how i feel tomorrow #scribble salad #welcome home #welcome home puppet show #welcome home fanart #barnaby b beagle #i like how i keep cycling through which neighbor im Focusing on #lately its been howdy but all this laughingstock is making me 👀 @ barnaby #still patiently waiting for my brain to seize poppy in its white-knuckle grip #please. please. i do not control the Motivation but god i wish i did #still. anyway. angy barnaby. fuck yeah. hes great. #i think i saw that one uhhhh drawing of clown's of barns looking mildly annoyed #and thats probably what made me go Oh I Love This. This Is Incredible. I Think About This Every Day. #he deserves to be upset. as a Treat #all comic relief characters should have a free 'choose violence' ticket

[edensbuttercups]

A little help - Eddie Munson x reader

Summary: you're an artist, and Eddie comes to you in hopes you can help him design and make a t-shirt for his Hellfire group, and of course you accept. (Set before the events of season 4)

A/N: To be fully honest, I had forgotten about this. I wrote this last July (I think?) in my phone's notes during a trip, and forgot about it until last night. I did have a part 2 in mind, potentially, but I just wanted to put this out there first, give some love to the good old Eddie ♡

As always, comments are very much appreciated! Thank you for reading and hope you're all having a good day ♡

Words: 2k

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You bolted upwards as the two hands crashed down in front of you, the loud sound startling not only you but everyone else that was sitting in your vicinity, earning a snicker from them when they noticed who had caused such commotion.

Eddie the freak Munson. 

Or, as you called him, Eddie.  You had been friends for years, you fitting in no clique in particular, him slowly building his own.  You got along with everyone, enough to be liked, but not enough to be considered their friend, and you enjoyed hanging out with the Hellfire club, sometimes with the cheer squad, depending on who was around and how nice they were, and other times the arty group. You loved art. Both drawing and painting, making it and looking at it, and they always were a reliable group to spend time with to get immersed in it.  “I need a favor from you.”

You looked up at him, still wide eyed from the shock. “Oh, excuse me, sweetheart, did you get scared?” he asked with a smirk, swinging his leg around the free chair and slumping down, head resting on his hands as he awaited an answer. “I could murder you, Munson.”  “But you would never.” “I wouldn’t, no. What can I do for you?” His smile widened as he moved back, grabbing a piece of paper from his pocket. “So, you’re an artist.” “Big word.” “No, it isn’t. Now, I was thinking of making Hellfire t-shirts. I’ve gathered around a good group, and we meet often, and every other group has something, and t-shirts are easy enough to make, right?” “Kinda, yeah. As long as we have a t-shirt, all that’s needed is paint for textiles and an iron, and that’s good.” “And that’s where you come in.”  You cocked your eyebrow up at that, leaning closer yourself, curious to hear the rest.  “I need you to design them and, maybe, to make them? If it’s not a hassle.” He finished speaking and quickly added a I can help you as he glanced down, opening the paper up so he could show you his ideas. A skull with horns had been drawn quickly, as well as some dices and a sword. He had put some effort in this, but you could tell that he was good at drawing.  “This is my idea. It has to be rearranged but-“ “I’d love to help you with this. Thanks for thinking of me to help you out.”  It hadn’t occurred to you that someone might want your help for something artistic, but it made you feel so appreciated, and you couldn’t help but smile at his doodles.  You grabbed a pencil from you bag and a piece of paper, quickly sketching his skull, but changing it up slightly.  “Maybe if this is red, it would look cool? Or do you prefer all black and white?” “No, no, red… red sounds amazing.” “Great. And how about we also write the club name… here.”  You pointed to the top of the paper, leaving the centered skull in the middle and adding the writing above it, in two neat rows.  “Perfect.” You kept adding more and more, tweaking it and perfecting it until you were satisfied. You heard the bell ring and ignored it, opting to stay with him and draw, even when he protested and asked you to go ahead into class. He didn’t want you to fail after all.  He didn’t care too much about his grades, finally happy that he was building something were he belonged. It took him a while, but he now had something that was his, and he felt special.  You on the other hand were doing well enough that missing one or two lessons wouldn’t be a problem, especially considering that the last hours of the day were the few lessons you had already done all your assignments for, passing them with flying colors. Missing today would not be an issue. 

When the cafeteria crowded again after school, you both moved away to his special place in the woods, enjoying the quiet and finally sitting down in the open air, the chilly autumn air running through the trees around you.  “So I think this design would work, right?”  You pulled up the paper, showing him the final result.  “It looks… beautiful.” He wasn’t looking at the drawing, but at you. His eyes quickly fell to the paper after his words had left his mouth, leaving him fumbling. “I mean it’s… perfect. Great. I… I couldn’t have pictured anything better than this.” You laughed as he stood, shaking the awkwardness away like a dog would with water and stood proudly in front of the table, lowering his body in a bow. “How can I thank you, m’lady?” You groaned, laughing and you took a stand too, moving to grab his shoulders and pulling him up. His hair was ruffled and his eyes were soft, and you hated seeing him like this. Or better, you loved it, and that’s why you hated it. 

You furrowed your brows, thinking back to the first time you had met. 

He had just started the Hellfire Club and had gotten permission to decorate the drama room for it, so he went all out. He used an old throne from the room, and bought everything he needed for their first campaign. It took him many trips to bring everything he needed from point A to point B, and you crashed into him right in between those two points on his fourth trip back. A few dices slipped on the floor, as well as posters and some dark cloths, and you couldn’t help but mutter a quiet sorry before meeting his eyes. You had heard of him, the freak, but never understood why he had gained that nickname. He was extravagant, and loud, but he always stopped to help people if they needed it, and his smile was just so sweet, even when it dripped poison. 

Standing you picked up as much as you could before offering him a hand up, realizing that he was, after all, still on the floor. “I’m so sorry. I was going so fast and I didn’t notice you.” “Nothing new there. No one ever does.” he muttered, running his hands down his clothes, pretending to clear some dust off, just for theatrical effect. “I… I’m sorry. Here.” You opened his palm and placed the dices in it while you still clung to the cloths. “Which room are we bringing everything?” He looked at you with the widest eyes you had ever seen. You were willing to help him? To be seen with him? He had noticed you and he noticed how you sometimes hung with the cheerleaders, and you spending time with him seemed like the easiest way to ruin your small little group you fit in.  “So?” “You don’t have to help.” “But I want to.” He muttered an answer, trailing behind you as you entered the half decorated room and stopped in his tracks mere inches before crashing into you once more, noticing at the last moment that you had stopped.  “This looks great! Did you decorate?” “Yep.” “For what club?” “D&D.” “I think I’ve heard of it. Is it that… role game? With like, a person that decides where the story goes and stuff?” “A Dungeon Master, yeah.”  “Who’s the Dungeon Master then? You?” “Yep.” He wasn’t very talkative, was he? He seemed hesitant to let you in, and you knew it was probably because of his status among the other students. But you also happened to be stubborn, and you wouldn’t leave until you got a good sentence out of him or until he stated he wanted you to leave, whatever came first. “And are you taking new members?” “Like who? You?” He had slippered past you, throwing some things on the table before crashing on the throne, looking annoyed as he waited for your answer.  “Yes.” “I don’t think I want girls to join.” “Why, are you afraid, Munson?” You knew his name, and that surprised him. Why would you know his name? “I saw the way you are with your friends, whom I assume are part of the club, and it seems like you have fun. So I might be a girl and I might no barely anything about this game-“ “D&D” he corrected, rolling his eyes. “D&D.” You repeated, “but I’m willing to learn, and I think that should at least count enough for you to not treat me like you currently are.” His eyes went from you, to the ceiling, the the table and to you again. He didn’t trust you, not yet, but you had a point. “One game. Tomorrow night.” You smiled triumphantly, nodding your head as you turned, bowing quickly before leaving to get back to your after-school activities, although now your interest was mostly focused on something else.

You remember fidgeting for the whole day, waiting for the game, only to play it and feel defeated. You were new to it and had to get a hang of it, but you also were new to the group and struggles to fit with them. Eddie, even if hesitant, kept checking up on you silently, sending you quick looks and explaining everything as clearly as he could, knowing how overwhelming the game could be.  When everyone left you stayed behind with the excuse of tidying up, meeting Eddie’s stare while you shuffled behind the chair to pick up some items that had been scattered on the floor. “So?” He asked, getting his cocky front back. He moved so he was lying on the chair, his face upside down as he looked at you, but you could see how his eyes held a genuine curiosity. “I like it a lot, but…”  “It’s a lot.”  “Yeah. But… you guys also already have a group. It’s maybe harder to-“ “They’re good guys.” He defended, sitting up when you moved back to the table, sitting on it. “I know.” You both spent some time there. You talked, you fixed the room, you left. He gave you a lift home and told you that if you ever felt like it, the club was open for you too. He was surprised the next day when you waltzed over at their table, saying a quick hello to everyone before heading to class. The image was comical, a bunch of them just looking at you wide eyed while he stood composed, yet just as confused as them. And from them on? From then on you were friends, and nothing would change that feeling in his chest when you were around. He felt proud of you, he guessed, or maybe of simply having you  near him, being kind and funny and there.  Yeah, definitely proud. 

“If knowing how to thank you takes so much thought, I can contact you in one to three business days, no stress!”  His voice pulled you back from your thoughts and from staring at his pretty, pretty face, your hands still clinging to his shoulders. You officially wanted to disappear. “I-… sorry. I zoned out.” “I saw that, sweetheart.” He smiled so kindly and warmly at you, and you asked yourself, for the millionth time, how anyone could call him a freak. How they could judge him so easily when he was the softest person that you knew. “Need a lift home? I’ll buy some t-shirts and maybe tomorrow we can start copying the design? Or, whenever your free clearly, it doesn’t have to be-“ “Tomorrow works fine. Thank you Eddie.” Maybe you had blurted out the confirmation too quickly, eager to spend more time with him, but it always felt so simple, so right.  “Thank me? Why me?” “For taking me in consideration for this. For spending time with me and” you moved your finger up, gently tapping your finger on his chest “for giving me an excuse to skip class.” He laughed, taking a bow in front of you. “Oh, any day, sweetheart.” 

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things season 4

[bulgariansumo]

In 2018, I made some outfits for the Celestion-5 crew and then proceeded to draft a whole story idea around them going undercover. It featured a bunch of plot beats, new characters, the whole nine yards.

If I remember correctly, the only reasons I didn't write this one out is because A) it was long, B) I was working on another long story idea (look out for it in Arc 2: Mars!), and C) this was before I fully decided to structure Galactiquest as a novel. I've been excited to make it back to this storyline, but I knew it would take a while.

Anyway, tada! Now I'm here. I still really like most of the original outfits, but some of them needed tweaking. Plus, I wanted to draw full outfits for the ones that were half-bodies.

There's a few more characters I need to design, but now that this is taken care of, I can work on the cover!

Notes under the cut:

-I don't usually know what to do when drawing footwear, so I'm glad I was able to make everyone's shoes unique. I probably won't end up drawing them in-story, but hey! At least I know what they look like in case I have to.

-Aiden and Mia? Literally perfect. I changed nothing about their designs except for giving them shoes. In fact, Mia still has the purse and phone. I just didn't know how to fit them into this sketch.

-Leon and Roxie were mostly perfect, I just needed to simplify some things so I could redraw them without crying. Leon also has a jet-pack backpack.

-...Actually, I think the section around Leon's wrist should be red. Hopefully I remember that when it comes time to draw him.

-I associate every character with a color, and Emil's and Angelo's are red and orange respectively. Their original outfits didn't reflect that in my opinion, so I swapped some colors around.

-Even back when I first drew this, I wasn't fully satisfied with Lorenzo's and Jun's outfits. They needed a full rehaul. It was a good excuse for me to give Lorenzo a fashion cape.

-For most of the transparent sections, like glasses, I used overlay and multiply, except for Mia's skirt, which I just colored it at 50% opacity. This is mostly for me to remember later. Jun's probably took me the longest to figure out, but I'm really happy with the results.

#galactiquest #ocs #leon summers #lorenzo #emil #mia #jun kim #aiden #roxie #angelo #bsumoart

[pinkteapotwriting]

Taken Care Of

Oops, forgot I had this one that I could post lol. Not sure how I feel about this one, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless. BTW this is really not a realistic way to lose your virginity, but it doesn’t matter cause we’re all just horny anyway.

Credit to @quindolyn for tweaking some things xXx Go check out her stuff cause not only is she an absolute doll she’s a wonderful writer

Wolfstar x fem!reader

Warning: This is just regular old smut so 18+ Kinda innocence kink and praise kink

Summary : You’re not as experienced as Remus and Sirius, but that doesn’t stop them from taking care of you

Word count : 1905

---

There you were fiddling with your hands anxiously as you sat on the floor cross legged, refusing to meet their gaze while they sat on the couch looking down at you, fully intrigued by what you had just said. 

“Sorry darling, could you repeat that please?” Remus asked

You slapped your hands on the ground knowing that they were teasing you and looked up at them. Remus looked earnest, but Sirius had no shame in grinning down at you, menacingly even. 

“Aw, don’t get worked up bunny, we’re here to listen.” Sirius mocked, well aware of the pet name making heat rise to your face.

You sighed and started twiddling your thumbs again then finally plucked up the courage to speak. “I’ve never done anything before, Okay? I’ve never kissed anyone let alone have sex and you guys are obviously much more experienced than me and I’m nervous.”

“Is that all sweetheart?” Remus answered.

Before you could even respond Sirius chided in, “Puppy, it sounds like you want us to take care of you, you’re just afraid of the unexpected”, his eyes darkened as he continued “And I- we want to take care you too, so, will you let us?”

Suddenly, more turned on than shy you nodded eagerly.

“You need to use your words angel” Remus instructed “Can’t help you if you don’t use your words.”

“Yes, please I want you to take care of me”

There was Sirius with that borderline dangerous grin again, as he leaned forward dying to be the first to taint you, to make you beg to be fucked.

“And what does that mean for you pup?”

“Touch me, just anything, please! I couldn’t possibly walk away from this, please.”

Sirius extended a hand which you accepted gladly as he led you to straddle both his and Remus’s thigh as they sat side by side. Remus took your face and stopped his lips just inches before yours, breathing you in.

“Can I kiss you sweetheart?”

“Please”

That was all he needed. He was gentle and slow, so you could get used to this feeling and just as you found your rhythm you found yourself gasping because Sirius started kissing and nibbling perfectly up and down your neck. Sirius took advantage of your momentary surprise to get his turn to slip his tongue in your mouth and your gasp suddenly turned into a moan when Remus started matching what Sirius had done on your other side.

You pulled back, embarrassed by the sound that escaped your lips, but Sirius was quick to counter as he cupped your jaw staring deep in your eyes, “We haven’t even done anything and I already know you’re going to be the death of me” and with that he proceeded to release your face and kiss along your neck. Your eyes darted to Remus in confusion but also arousal and he reassured you while rubbing your thigh comfortingly. 

“Aw Bunny, don’t be embarrassed. We like making you feel good and those noises make us feel good too. Don’t you want to make us feel good?”

You nodded and this time you were the one to close the gap and kiss Remus. Mind separated from the body, it acted on its own and you started to grind down on both of their thighs. 

Grabbing hold of your hips, Sirius stopped your movements and said, “As much as I like the sight of you getting off on our thighs, isn’t it our job to take care of you?”

“Then take care of me, please” Both of the boys groaned at your eagerness.

“Stand up love” Remus instructed. 

They quickly followed suit and Sirius got on his knees while Remus took care of your upper half. They littered more kisses across your skin as they stripped you and themselves of their clothes. You were down to your bras and panties, the boys down to their underwear and before you had the chance to feel embarrassed about being halfnaked for the first time in front of two very attractive men Remus was kneading and kissing your breasts after finally removing your bra, while Sirius rubbed your clothed clit with his thumb. Earning a moan from you he kissed your lower stomach and looked up and asked. 

“That feel good pup? Bet it does, can’t believe how wet you are. Want me to make you feel even better?”

“Yes, fuck please Sirius”

He stood up,  and had it so Remus was sitting length ways across the couch with you nestled between his thighs. He then approached you and pulled your panties off leaving you completely exposed now. He spread your legs, but out of the vulnerability of it all you quickly closed them.

Remus always being the gentler one was quick to comfort you. “If you don’t want to do anything you don’t have to, but we think that you are such a beautiful girl and you have nothing to be ashamed of. Our soul purpose right now is to make you feel good. Do you want us to make you feel good?” 

You took a deep breath and slowly spread your legs on your own this time for Sirius.

Sirius spoke as he knelt between your legs and placed his hands on either thigh.

“You are so beautiful.”

And with that he began placing kisses from your knee down towards the inside of your thigh, excited at the prospect of the bruises that would show there later. You were buzzing with anticipation, desperate for him to do as he promised, to take care of you as he said he would.

And oh would he.

He licked a bold striped across your pussy and finally rested upon your clit, his tongue massaging it like that’s all that his tongue was destined to do. 

“Mmm, fuck” you moaned.

“That feel good baby?” Remus questioned. “Just wait till I get my hands on you.”

Unsatisfied with his very hard dick pressed against your back, but very satisfied with the noises Sirius was drawing from your mouth he decided to draw out his own by toying with your nipples and biting down on your shoulder.

You could have cum right then and there, but before you got the chance Sirius was pushing his index finger into you making your back arch and head crane back.

“Stop!” You suddenly announced.

Both boys froze instantly, fearing they crossed boundaries. “What's wrong y/n?” Remus asked hastily.

“Please Sirius I need you inside me”

Sirius sighed in relief and stood up to position himself and you properly so your head was on Remus’s lap now instead. You angled your head back to look at Remus before saying, “and don’t worry Moony, I need you inside me next.” And with that Remus’s cock was throbbing even more harshly while he had to wait for his turn to make you feel good.

Sirius removed his boxers and gripped his very intimidating cock in his hand. It seemed daunting taking someone of his size, but you knew you needed him inside you.

“Don’t worry Pup, we’re here to take care of you, it’ll hurt a bit, but if it’s too much we can stop okay?

You nodded, “Please Siri.”

With that he aligned himself with your entrance and moved inch by inch as you found comfortable. He pushed into you until finally he was fully sheathed inside your very wet heat. You didn’t think you could take the stillness anymore, they had gotten you so worked up. Yet somehow you still had the patience to speak calmly.

“You can move now Siri.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His movements weren’t quick, but very deep and purposeful.

Remus stroked your hair as he bent closer to your ear and whispered “Look at you, you’re such a good girl. Taking his cock so well. Bet he’s fucking you deep, can’t wait till I get to do that.”

At that Remus leaned forward to rub your aching clit, clearly eager to get this show on the road.

“Ugh shit Remus she’s so tight.”

Sirius leaned forward then to show Remus some attention too. The deep fucking, four adoring hands roaming your body, two men you adored kissing right above you and the praise, was pushing you over the edge.

“Sirius, fuck it feels so good” you mewled.

Remus answered for him as he broke his connection with Sirius, “You’re so close aren’t you love. Be a good girl and make a mess on his cock.”

Finally, that coil in your belly snapped as you tightened around Sirius. Screams of absolute bliss were pouring out of your lips. It only took a few more thrusts before Sirius was moaning loudly, 

“Fuck pup, you feel so good I’m gonna cum right inside you”

Your chest was heaving, trying to regain yourself from the pleasure you just received. You got up, planted a kiss on Sirius’s lips then turned to straddle Remus. Poor dear, having to witness all that and not getting any relief. That would be quickly solved though.

“Don’t worry Rem” you said “I couldn’t forget about you.” You then proceeded to grind down on his cock which to your surprise (and delight) he was as big as Sirius if not bigger. Remus was having none of that though (after all, he has been very patient)  and wrapped both arms around your waist and lifted you as Sirius aligned Remus’s throbbing cock with your dripping pussy and watched intently as Remus placed you back down to sink onto his cock.

You breathed a few deep breathes and started to move up and down on him. 

“Fuck baby just like that” Remus moaned.

Sirius however was not as patient as Remus and couldn’t handle not being a part of the action and placed his hands on your hips, making you move even faster. 

Not fast enough for Remus’s liking now that he remembered he was supposed to be taking care of you. 

“Pads, I need you to hold her up for me.” 

Sirius had his arms hooked under your armpits while Remus supported your lower half. Then without warning Remus was fucking into you fast. Fast and hard. And didn’t you love it. No noise could escape your throat as each thrust took your breath away. 

“Look at our pretty girl, look how good she’s taking my cock pads, how she’s taken your cock.”

Your hands moved up to grip Sirius’s forearms with intensity, desperate for some sort of thing within reach to keep you tethered. 

“She’s close Moony” “Fuck, me too” “Come on Pup, milk his cock the way you did mine so well.”

Once again you were pushed over the edge. Sirius placed you down while Remus was still holding up your bottom half and very much in love with looking down at you and seeing the sight of your fucked out state.

Just as you were about to cry that it was too much Remus gave one final thrust as you whimpered. He held you for a few more seconds then slowly pulled out and placed you fully down.

Sirius was lightly trailing his finger across your cheek, drawing you back to reality. 

As you came down from your high you gazed up at your two new lovers intently.

“Well, I think it’s fair to say I was very well taken care of.”

And it wouldn’t be the last.

---

This was the first smut I ever wrote so my confidence on it is iffy, but then again every time I feel iffy on things y’all send nothing but love so I decided to share this despite my insecurities cause I love making content for you <3 

@thotbutpurple @sunny-bunnny @quindolyn

#Sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black smut #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin smut #wolfstar #poly wolfstar #polysmut #wolfstar x reader #fanfiction #smut #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter smut

[fangirlishing]

just for a laugh

fred weasley x fem!reader/oc extract from my fic just for a laugh

word count: 4k

content warning: 18+ ONLY; nsfw smut; unprotected sex; kissing; dom/sub vibe but they’re also switches; praise kink; begging;  teasing/a little derogatory fun; nipple play; penetration; its their first time <3; fingering; blowjob; this is just pure filth.

I pulled Fred down into me, showing him that I was here for him. With this action cementing my permission, he wasted no time in easily picking me up by my waist. I jumped on instinct, coiling my legs around his toned torso. Our lips remained tangled in a mess of emotions as Fred slowly walked us over to Percy’s bed.

He practically threw me down into the plush mattress and I released a nervous giggle as I bounced lightly upon my landing. Fred, however, wasted no time joking around as he crawled on top of me and brought our lips together again.

In this new position, his thigh pressed greedily into my core, shocking me back into a state of delirious pleasure. Laughter wiped from my face to be replaced with thundering desire.

I tried to control the urges that were building up inside of me but, as his hands snaked under my shirt, I knew it was a futile goal. I moaned pleasurably, the sound muffled by his mouth which openly kissed mine.

A filthy smirk coated his lips as he trailed his fingers further up my chest. My breath hitched slightly as his calloused touch inched close to my breasts and my body reacted on instinct, rolling upwards into his strong hands with pleasure. My body and mind working together in tandem as both craved more from him.

His lips detached smoothly from mine as he whispered close to my ear, “you wanna take this off for me?” His hot breath set my neck ablaze and I almost let a moan spring free at such intimacy.

My eyes were wide but maintained my feverish desire to please him as they became darkened with a lust deep enough to match his. Without thinking, I pulled the pyjama shirt over my head and chucked it across the room.

For the first time, Fred looked upon my naked torso. I writhed a little at his analytical gaze, even his eyes on me was enough to send me toppling under waves of pleasure. On some level, he knew I'd left myself naked for him. I'd hardly admit it to his face, but, his joking seduction at dinner had coerced me into leaving myself completely naked underneath my pyjamas as I hoped, a little romantically, that he might finally act upon the tension building between us for weeks.

“Good girl,” he hummed filthily, drawing me up by my neck to reconnect our lips as a frenzied reward.

As our lips entangled, his hands returned to my bare skin which glistened for him under the moonlight peeking through the dark we were engrossed within. I began to whine upon his lips as his fingers purposefully avoided the places he knew I needed him most, thrusting my chest into his touch to show my impatience.

With such a display, he bit my lip painfully, dragging it out teasingly as his sultry eyes met mine before letting my lip snap back into place.

“Do you need something, darling?” He asked innocently, but his eyes challenged me as they smirked whilst looking upon the lustful cracks his taunting fingers caused to spread across my skin.

I whined softly, hoping no one could hear me as pleading begs fell from my lips almost as if magically coaxed out by Fred. I wouldn't put it past him but I knew I was under my own spell, enchanted by the red-headed treat towering over me.

He cast a wordless charm around the room before he spoke again, “you want me that badly?” He snickered, eyes still focused on assessing my body as if it was a half unwrapped gift ready for his final, jarring tears to whisk away the wrapping that contained me.

All I could muster was a nod as his fingers tantalisingly stroked down my sides, “dirty girl,” he chuckled teasingly in my ear before placing his open lips on the hidden hickeys that dotted my neck and chest, courteously of our moments of previous frenzied pleasure at Hogwarts.

He bit a few of them, laughing more as he watched me jolt with pleasure. It felt wrong to hear Fred talk to me in such a way - like this was all just some fantasy I’d cooked up in my dreams but, as I felt his tongue drag across my skin, I knew how real this was and I could no longer deny the pleasure that shuddered up my spine.

My hand slid into his hair instinctively, gripping it softly as he travelled his way down my body. I relished at how close we were, I could almost feel his heartbeat racing alongside mine as his strong beater figure pressed against my perky, bare chest.

“How much have you imagined this, darling?” He quipped, drawing himself back up to drown me in another of his captivating kisses as I whined in his mouth.

“Too much,” I gasped, opening my eyes to watch him smirk down at me, “probably every night.”

He moved close to my mouth again, hovering over it as he whispered, “what do we do in your head?” His voice screamed control but it wavered as he, too, struggled with his pleasures.

I felt it grow below, undulating into my still clothed skin to remind me that I was not alone in this longing. We had indulged ourselves too quickly for Fred's liking and, so, he drew us out longer with such questions. Perhaps he wanted to avoid the conversation we were due for as long as possible but, with his hardness pulsing into my thigh, rubbing slightly, I didn't care.

I flushed excessively in the dark room, distracted by my racing thoughts. He chuckled throatily in my ear before kissing my neck once more. “Is it that dirty, love? So bad you can’t even tell me? I promise it’ll stay between us,” he pressed a soft kiss upon my lips, staring me down as he regained control, knowing that I was fully encased under him.

“Its…” my thoughts were interrupted as he tweaked one of my nipples teasingly, I glared down his innocent disguise as I continued, “it’s embarrassing.”

He laughed again, kissing the centre of my chest, right between my breasts which heaved with desire, “that’s cute, love. How ‘bout you tell me one thing we’ve done in your head and I’ll tell you something I’ve thought about in return?”

“You-you’ve-?” I stammered, causing him to smile more.

“Of course, but I won’t say anything until you speak up.”

A lump formed in my throat as I sifted through all the fantasies my brain had conjured throughout my infatuation with Fred. Some were innocent - like going on picnics or wading through a pond and splashing each other with water whilst we laughed - but some were disgustingly perverse. Some I could hardly voice to him because I knew they would grant him much too power over my body and mind.

“One time I-“ I began, clearing my throat before I darted my eyes away from him as embarrassment roared through my veins, “I imagined you rewarding me for doing well on an essay,” I mumbled, turning my face fully away from him and shutting my eyes so I didn’t have to watch his provocative gaze as I lay my mind bare alongside my body for him.

His mouth came to hover next to my ear, “and how exactly did I reward you?” A sly kiss was placed just behind my ear which curled my toes and fluttered my breath.

I whimpered, unable to utter the words to him.

“Alright, darling,” I could hear him smile softly, leaving behind our game for a moment, he continued, “no pressure, I promise,” his hands rest comfortably along my sides, “how can I make you feel better, you look like you’re about to combust.”

He altered his position slightly, no longer hovering over me and trapping me under his presence. His muscled thigh remained in place, pressing on my anguished core, but he allowed himself to sit up, releasing me from the invisible chains his dominance wracked over me.

“Tell me about what you’ve imagined,” I whispered, drawing my hands up his chest to grip softly at the loose fabric of his shirt, slowly pulling him back down over me to reinforce my comfort with his controlling presence. To show him I needed him there just as much as he needed me.

“Hard to pick just one, love,” he uttered causing me to let out a chuckle that sent a wave of relaxation hurtling through me.

“I suppose there is one fantasy I keep revisiting,” he trailed off and I looked upon him with anticipation and he was more than willing to satisfy my cravings, “you’re studying hard in the library and I whisk you away to the restricted section and give you a much-needed break.”

My breath hitched slightly, “what do we do on this break?” I asked innocently as Fred’s fingers trailed down my stomach absentmindedly.

“Do you want to have a guess, darling? Or should I just tell you?”

His hands rest at the waistband to my pyjama bottoms as I gasped, allowing two words, “tell me,” to fall from my lips in a breathy respite.

Dragging his fingers across the band he hummed, “I lie you down on one of the tables,” he lifted my waistband, “and I tell you that I want you to do one thing,” I felt his fingers hover over my dripping slit, teasing me both subconsciously and physically as I squirmed slightly. I tried to ignore the surprised look of pleasure that fleetingly appeared on his face when he discovered no trace of underwear on me.

“Wh-what did you tell me?” I asked, anticipation getting the better of me as his fingers worked fire into my veins.

“I wanted you to beg to cum for me,” he stated simply, plunging a finger inside of me to coax out a desperate moan from my throat.

He was drunk on the power he wielded over me, looking down at my lustful expression and relishing in knowing that he was the one causing it. His cocky attitude taunted me, smirking upon me while I uttered profanities as I delved deeper into my pleasure, my brain conjuring up images of being bent over that library table and how Fred, I knew, would feast upon my body.

He coiled his thrusting finger inside of me, pushing against my pleasure point and dragging me further into a state of ecstasy. Delirious from the pleasure, I began to grind along with him as I craved more of his touch. More of him, whatever he decided to give me I would lap up like a dog. With this movement from me, he slid his finger out, denying me the pleasure I had become captivated under.

He began to stroke a set of his fingers up and down my slick entrance, breathing a laugh when I jolted as his fingers struck my bundle of nerves.

You’re so desperate for this, aren’t you?” He whispered into my ear and I pathetically whimpered a reply before crying out in shock as he suddenly slammed three fingers inside of me, chuckling in my ear at my loud response which he knew he'd get once he left me distracted with his slippery, seductive words. “You’re doing so well, darling,” he bit my ear playfully as he thrust faster, drawing more sounds of desperation from me.

His wicked eyes met mine and I knew exactly what I wanted him to know, it was something I’d whispered to myself late at night when giving myself a release and, admittedly, something I wanted to say to him.

“I wanna cum for you, Freddie,” I whined, gasping as his fingers plunged far deeper inside of me, engulfing me in pleasure as a response to the filth my lips divulged.

He hummed musically, “you’re perfect,” his lips softly slid over mine, passionately reaching into my senses as his fingers continued to drive me closer to my edge.

“Freddie,” I gasped through the kiss, heavily breathing before his lips returned to mine, “I need you now… Will you- I mean, would you want to-?” I cut myself off, feeling awkwardly vulnerable.

He detached from me only to gaze upon me with a genuine smile, “of course, only if you’re sure,” he pecked my lips again, reassuring me before we went too far.

I nodded, eyes glistening with uncontrolled affection. At this moment, I didn’t care how far we went and what that meant for us - I felt an animalistic urge surge deep within me that craved him in his entirety, no matter the consequences.

His fingers left me with a swift moment and I felt an emptiness I knew would soon be satisfied as Fred threw his sweater across the room. My hands ran over his muscled back, pulling him down for another kiss as a hungry, lustful ball settled uncomfortably in my stomach at the sight of him, it begged for its obscene desires to be quenched. He detached again to focus on slipping his pyjama pants off and I followed suit, leaving us both vulnerably naked for the first time.

I looked upon his hard member that had teased me thus far, my breath catching as reality settled upon my shoulders. Of course, I was a little fearful for my first time with Fred, but, as I met his kind eyes, I knew it was all going to be okay. That it wasn't going to be like the sex I once knew.

“You ready?” He asked, his soft tone relaxing my breathing.

“Merlin, yes,” I breathed and he chuckled over my lips, passionately kissing me once again. His open mouth moved leisurely over mine, short gasps interrupting our entanglement once he began touching himself for the first time since we’d begun. He'd held out so long to focus on my pleasure and, as I watched him succumb, it only enhanced my drive.

“Godric, I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard,” he groaned, wincing with satisfaction as he stroked himself languidly.

“Let me,” I whispered, spitting into my hand and bringing it to stroke alongside him.

I watched as his hand fell lack, his eyes rolling back into his head as I continued my slackened strokes. He gave himself over to the pleasure, staggered breath holding back his desire to loudly groan as he fell under my seductive spell.

“Freddie?” I whispered, earning a dazed, mumbled acknowledgement as if he was both here and not, “get on your back for me.”

He obeyed immediately and without question, running a hand over his face as his mouth hung open in silent exertion.

Smirking, I brought my face closer to his length. My lips kissed his tip softly, evoking a drawn-out sizzled moan to fall loosely from his mouth. I slowly tested the waters, letting the salty taste of him coat my tongue before I plunged his hardness to the back of my throat. His gasping groan finally freed itself from his restrained voice as his fingers clutched my hair, guiding me up and down.

I pushed myself as far as I could go for his pleasure, the feeling of him hitting the back of my throat only stirring me on to be the best he’d ever had.

His breathing became more ragged as he submerged himself under my control, his grip relinquishing as he relished in the feeling of my tongue swirling around him, wanking him off with my lips.

“Love,” he strained through his teeth and I detached my lips, leaving a trail of spit attaching me to his member, “as much as I want my cum to drip from your lips, I’d like to be inside you much more.”

A smile spread across my face, “where would you like me then, Weasley?” A brave power had fallen upon me when I had him under my control but, now, I felt it would slip away from me once Fred's skilled mouth centred on me.

Taking control he wrapped his arms around my waist, flipping us over fluidly before he ran a hand through his hair to push it out of his face quickly. He dragged his thumb over my lips, a lingering touch to show how much he missed them upon him, before dipping his lips toward me. I readied myself to receive another of his long, emotive kisses but found his lips resting next to my ear to whisper a vulgar command, “you better get ready to beg.”

Without warning, he plunged himself into me. Our shared groans filled the air as we finally satisfied our deepest cravings. He rested one hand on my waist and the other reached over me to grip the headboard tightly.

Fred restrained from moving for a few moments to give us time to get used to the new feeling of each other, pulsing in unison from the sheer shock. I yelped once he began to move, causing him to pause a moment before I beckoned him to continue as I assured him it wasn't pain but pleasure that was rocking through my body.

He began to sloppily thrust inside of me, our inexperience shining bright but neither of us cared as we became wrapped in a euphoric cocoon. With every jolt of himself inside of me, he moaned at the sensation and I covered my mouth to stop myself from screaming as I relished in the feeling of finally being full by someone I cared deeply for.

“Let me hear you,” Fred panted in my ear, moving both his hands to now rest on my waist to draw me further down onto him, sliding me up and down over and over.

I uncovered my mouth, “fucking he-ll, Fred,” I quipped, stammering as he quickened his pace. I allowed my body to fall under his control, my breasts bouncing as the mattress squeaked underneath us.

He felt so right inside of me and my body became consumed under his pleasurable grasp. His hands squeezed tighter and tighter around my waist, guiding my movements as he slid into me. For every impulsive, too-tight squeeze he littered across my body came the soft brushes of his fingers to ease the small spikes of pain he’d unintentionally brought upon me.

Soon, this pain turned to pleasure as he wrecked my warm core. His length charged hard and fast inside of me, so much so that I could barely keep up. I lost myself in his strokes, whimpering soft moans as my slack body allowed him to have his way with me. The soft slaps of our skin violently intersecting spread throughout the room and it started to drive me insane with animalistic pleasure.

Consumed by thoughts of him and a yearning for his length that slammed so hastily inside of me, my thoughts became hazy as they obsessed over Fred.

His name became a chant, dripping from my lips easier than breathing. I wanted him to hear my complete desire for him more than anything else. What had begun as a whisper, almost like a silent prayer, became a lewd, rhythmic reminder of who was giving me the pleasure I’d craved for so long. Longer than he knew.

Every time his name fell from my lips, his breathing staggered almost with disbelief that this was real - that he was hearing such vulgarity fall from the mouth of someone who, for many years, had been so reserved and shy.

It urged him on, too, the knowledge that my entire being had become fully dominated by him in body and soul, and caused him to show his appreciation for my devotion by slamming hard into me.

“Fu-uck,” he stammered, more profanities falling from his lips as our joint pleasure built more and more.

Lost under his control and the steady, rhythmic pumps of his cock inside of me left me little room to think of anything else. My entire being ached for him - craved his pleasure, wanted to show him how desperate I was. How desperate he made me.

My wet mouth came to absentmindedly swirl around my fingers, my lips hungrily coated in saliva. Moaning Fred’s name again, my fingers left my lips and quickly trailed down to my clit, beginning to steadily play with it to overwhelm myself with greater pleasure.

I perked for a moment at the new sensation but I quickly submitted as I felt intense waves of sensuality jolt through me. My stomach fluttered as, with Fred working in unison with my own fingers, I became overwhelmed with carnality and it transformed the ball in my lower stomach into a burning hot pit which grew with each flick I gratified myself with.

Fred’s breathing, matching mine, became staggered now as he filthily pumped himself into me, “I-Merlin, I’m close, love,” he groaned, straining as he held himself back from the edge we both climbed towards.

“I-I wanna feel you, Freddie,” I begged, “deep inside, I wanna feel you there.”

He smirked, his spare hand stroking down my neck to my chest and, for an agonising minute, all I wanted him to do was wrap his fingers around my throat and squeeze.

“Keep going,” he begged, pinching my erect nipple, grimacing as he held himself back from spilling too quickly over the edge.

I hissed as he pinched me hard before I whispered airy begs for his cum to fill the empty, burning chasm inside of me.

I almost choked on my breath as he slammed hard and slow into me, dragging it out further as he chuckled to himself; but it was obvious the thread he hung onto was loose and weakened under our intense passion.

He gritted his teeth with every elongated stroke as he held himself back, I hardly knew how he was handling this, “you’re so worked up all over me, such a little whore,” the venomous words dripped from his tongue easily as if he'd said them about me before in his fantasies.

Slamming into me again, he chuckled at my whimpers, “such an innocent little girl coming awfully undone - would you like to show me how you cum for me? I can tell you’ve done it for me before... I even heard you a couple of those times.”

I unlatched my eyes from his gaze, embarrassed at admitting what he already knew. Shying away from the desperation I craved, needed, in this moment.

His lips dropped, whispering seductively to me, “beg for it, darling. Beg for me.”

My wild, innocent eyes met his hedonistic, darkened ones and I knew then that I was dangerously enraptured under his spell.

It all came to a head, the feeling of being so full driving me so wild that it caused the heat spewing inside of me to bubble over. I didn't care if it made me weak, I wanted him to know that this weakness was all because of him.

I shamelessly began to beg, words falling from my lips quicker than I could control them, “I-I want you to show me what I do to you, wanna feel full of you. Please, Freddie,” I strained harder now, “please I need you. I-I-I,” I could barely hold myself back as his length slid so fluidly inside of me.

He angrily slammed himself as quick as he could inside of me and my eyes rolled back into my head as he pounded quickly.

“Such a good girl, fuck! Scream my name, love… scream it as you cum,” he stammered, finally releasing himself inside of me as pleasure undulated between us.

Overwhelmed with how this new sensation felt, I followed suit as I shrieked his name, my walls pulsating around his length which remained buried inside me as we both came down from our highs.

He remained inside of me as we both attempted to regulate our breathing. It was silent between us, only our ragged breaths and the sweet cream leaking from me remained as a memory of what had just happened.

#fred weasley #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley smut #imagine #smut #fred weasley fic #fred weasley imagine #harry potter #harry potter fic #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fangirlishing #fangirlishing smut #fangirlishing fred #weasley #harry potter smut

[tiredspacedragon]

Happy FUCKING 810NICLE Day, y'all! I've got a lot of stuff I want to post today, so I'm getting started at the end. Have some Stars revamps. Or, total redesigns, really. Built from scratch in a set-plausible design intended to stick as closely to their original looks as possible while still fitting into the scale and aesthetics of Bionicle's later years.

Tahu was designed as a hybrid between his original Toa Mata appearance and the aesthetics of the Adaptive Nuva. He's an Inika build, representing that the Adaptive Armour is (partially) active, but has the slimmer silhouette of his Mata days (Plus a back gear, if you can believe it. It's not visible in any of these pictures, but it's there. Doesn't do anything, but it's a fun little decoration). I wish I could have given him fully orange limbs to match the set better, but the red hardly looks bad. I'm particularly proud of how I managed to incorporate the Stars armour pieces on the larger build, especially since it means I can do...

...this. All six of the original Golden Armour pieces still fit perfectly onto this Tahu, though I've taken the liberty of swapping out the shield for a bigger, more practical piece. He's very shiny.

Gresh has slimmed down a lot since his days as a Glatorian. In-story, I imagine this would be a result of ditching the ornamental, overly showy armour worn by most Glatorian in favour of lighter, more effective combat gear that compliments his new Air powers. Like Tahu, I was able to carry over his Stars set armour, though not quite as elegantly. He's a bit of a stick figure, but I still love him, especially since he's the only one of the six whose colour layout is basically exactly the same as his official set, part for part, with the exception of a black neck.

2010 Takanuva is supposed to be the Toa of Light in his normal form, just with his colours altered to camouflage himself as a Toa of Ice to avoid drawing attention to himself. So, here he is scaled up into a Metru build to keep him at the proper size. I didn't feel like painting anything here, so his torso's colours are off, but I can't say I care that much. He also has a working gear function, sooo...bonus!

Also, I don't know about anyone else, but I always thought it was ridiculous that Takanuva would discard his Power Lance, an amazing tool that not only channeled his powers, but also amplified them, in favour of the Twin Light Staffs, which do nothing of note except exist as a pair. So, have this headcanon: At some point during the reign of Teridax, Takanuva's Power Lance was broken. Unwilling to surrender the advantage the tool gave him, Takanuva fashioned the broken pieces of the lance into the Twin Light Staffs, specifically opting for two as a nod to the twin Power Swords traditionally wielded by Av-Matoran. Thus is the thought process for using Air Sabers as the heads of his staffs in this revamp.

Nektann is a Piraka build. And that's about it. I kept his hands, feer, and weapon from his set form, and slapped 'em on a basic Skakdi body. Took a bit of work to get his head on, but nothing too wild. After that, it was just a matter of attaching his spines to his back and arms and he was done. Technically, Nektann is supposed to be larger than the average Skakdi, but I haven't figured out a way to make that look good as of yet, so this is all I've got for him, for now.

Also, in the realm of revamps that are just tweaks to existing sets, have Winter 2009's Skrall, now in lime green and without a shield. New feet though! Yeah, this one isn't terribly creative on my part, but it is what the figure should look like, canonically speaking, and that's what I was going for, so I'm satisfied.

At least this guy gets the satisfaction of being the only one of the bunch with a launcher.

And finally, the Rahkshi of Heat Vision, alternatively and unofficially known as Zirahk. The Rahkshi design, oddly enough, was not difficult to translate into Inika scale at all, thanks to the pieces of the Stars set. The neck plugs into the front of an Inika torso with ease and the spine attaches to the back just as easily. There's even enough room to wedge a little Kraata of Heat Vision in there. I'm still amazed I have one of those. Anyway, the big challenge here was the size. Did you know Rahkshi are supposed to be 9 FEET TALL?? Because I found that out only recently. Naturally, a stubby little Rahkshi was't gonna cut it, I had to make this lad TOL.

And as you can see, it's still too small! As is, Zirahk is taller than an average Inika build; not quite as much as it should be, but it's as good as it's gonna get, methinks.

And to close, another group shot. Once again, happy 810 everybody. More to come.

#bionicle #810 #bionicle stars #tahu #gresh #takanuva #nektann #skrall #rahkshi #revamps #now they have knees

[lavenderbexlatte]

sitting pretty

stray kids  2.4k words female reader insert Dom!Reader x Sub!Bang Chan EXPLICIT/NSFW

🖤 warnings: dom/sub dynamics, hard dom antics, degradation, dom title “miss” sub title “puppy,” kink negotiation, collar and leash play, nipple piercings 🖤

🚨🚨 always communicate clearly and thoroughly with your partner before you add new kinks/kinds of play to the bedroom!

connect with me! / masterlist

Everyone who thinks Bang Chan likes to be in charge everywhere, including in bed, should see him now.

You know how he comes across: controlled, silly but largely responsible, self-sacrificial and humble, the oldest and most experienced in his group of shiny-eyed not-so-new industry blood. And he is all of those things. To his own detriment, you think. He thinks too much, worries too much about what he’s doing and saying and how he looks from the outside.

Here, he doesn’t have to worry at all.

Chan had arrived at your place half an hour before, in the dead of the night after a long day of schedules, exhausted to the bone but eager for some positive attention. Well. You have plenty of attention and affection to give, even if it comes out in…interesting ways.

The two of you found your way into the bedroom quickly enough. Clothes were shed, terms of the scene laid out, the traffic-light safeword system instilled like usual. And now, you’re slowing it all down, just enjoying the delicious view of your boyfriend as he blushes and fidgets his way through your latest innovation.

“Is that too tight?” you ask.

“No.”

You reach down to slip a finger under the sturdy black collar that circles Chan’s neck, making sure that there’s enough give. The digit fits easily, so you’re not worried that he’s lying and risking harm just to get more stimulation.

“I said it was okay,” he says good-naturedly, eyes still on the floor.

“Are you talking back?” you tease.

You nudge his head upward with your hand as you draw it back, and he meets your gaze. The two of you cut quite the figure in the dim light of your bedroom. He’s flushed all the way down to his toes. You know that for certain; he’s nude except for the collar, knelt on the floor at your feet as you lounge on the edge of your bed, shirt long gone and breasts bare to the room.

His hands are clasped neatly behind his back, and his cock is already standing out proudly, so hard even though you’ve barely started.

“No, miss,” he says.

“You’re gonna be my good boy, aren’t you?” you coo.

He looks mortified, self-conscious but also so, so intrigued. You raise your other hand and it amuses you how he follows it with his eyes.

His collar isn’t just an accessory tonight. Clutched in your hand, you have the end of a thin leather leash, brand-new and still creased from the way it was coiled in your toybox until Chan could come break it in with you. The other end is clipped to the thick O-ring on his collar, and as you give an experimental tug, the collar bends toward you easily, making Chan gasp as it digs into his skin.

“I’ll be good,” he agrees.

“You’d better be.”

Your hand dips down, further this time, and tweaks one of the black barbells that are pierced through each of Chan’s nipples. He jumps at your touch, and you huff out a laugh. Though the piercings have gotten much less sensitive over time, he still acts like they’re fresh during playtimes. Maybe the arousal makes the sensation more pronounced. You’re not sure. You just know how much you love it when he’s whining and squirming for you.

“Sitting pretty for me,” you say, “Listening and keeping that mouth shut, like a good boy.”

He just regards you, his ears flaming red. You’ve said much more to him in the bedroom before, you know his limits and his tells well enough. He’s not truly uncomfortable, just embarrassed at the mingling praise and backhanded compliments. You keep going.

“On a leash like a dog.”

A whine slips out of Chan’s mouth before he can stop it, his gaze back on the floor. Jackpot.

“Oh, you like that?” you ask, “You like being my dumb little puppy? Only good for listening and doing as you’re told?”

“I don’t mind it, miss,” he says, voice barely loud enough to hear.

You slide forward more on the bed, bringing Chan into easier reach. He’s so pretty like this, just waiting for you to say something, to do something, to touch him more. 

His hair is blonde now, recently bleached, all wild natural curls in a vivid near-platinum color. You tangle your fingers in his hair indulgently, right at his hairline, and tug sharply so that he has no choice but to look up at you again.

“Are you shy, puppy?” you say condescendingly.

“A little bit, miss,” he admits.

“At least you’re honest.”

You fall back onto the bed, laying down more fully and propping yourself up on your elbows so that you can still see him. At this angle, your pussy is level with his face, and you spread your legs apart as if to give him a better look. He can’t see anything, since you’re still clothed on your lower half, but you watch Chan’s throat and the collar move as he swallows.

“Eager,” you tease.

He’s blunt, “Yes.”

“Can’t do anything unless you undress me, puppy,” you encourage.

Slowly, Chan unfolds his hands from behind his back, and he comes forward to slide his hands under the waistband of your lounge pants. You lift your hips so that he can pull them over your ass and ease them down your legs. He discards the pants, taking his sweet-ass time on it, and then moves to pull your panties down, too.

When you’re bare to him, he sits back on his heels to wait for your next instructions. It makes you nearly purr with satisfaction. Such an obedient boy. He’s always pliant and eager to please, but there’s something heavier and more desperate to it tonight, with the new power dynamic that you’re exploring together.  

You tug on the leash, urging him forward. He follows, leaning into the gentle pull on his neck, until you’ve guided him between your thighs. He’s essentially crawling to you on hand and knees, and you can tell that he’s aware of exactly how he looks doing it.

“Do you want to taste?” you ask.

“Yes,” he says, immediately.

“Go ahead.”

Chan reaches out, as if to grab hold of your thighs before he begins, but you stop him.

“No hands,” you instruct.

“But…but…”

“Can puppies use their hands?” you ask.

“…No,” he says, grudging.

You can tell that the puppy play is embarrassing him as much as it’s arousing him. It interests you. Some people are really into pet play for its own sake. They like the pet names and the mindless role of it all, just happy to explore in a new way. 

But for Chan, it seems perversely satisfying in the same way that degradation can be. It’s not that he loves being your puppy, but he loves you flexing your power over him. He loves trying out anything for you, just once, with permission and tender attentive care.

Truly your best boy. Best boy in the world.

“You can always safeword,” you remind him gently.

But he shakes his head. “Green.”

“Make me cum then,” you say, “But no hands.”

You give another tug on the leash as if to motivate him, but Chan doesn’t need any more encouragement.

He dives in fully, locating your clit with practiced precision and tracing circles around it, then over it, with an experienced tongue. Still propped up on your elbows, you can see his eyes flutter shut, long lashes falling against his cheek. He really is so beautiful, still knelt there on the floor between your legs, licking and sucking and kissing at your pussy like he’s got no more important task in the world.

The embarrassed burn is starting to fade from his ears, leaving him just his usual arousal-flushed pink that you love so much. He’s relaxing as he pleasures you, quietly taking his cues from your small sounds and hips grinding into his face.

“I missed you with blonde hair,” you say, through the arousal that’s steadily building and clouding your mind.

He laughs, the sound stifled as he continues to eat you out with abandon. His arms are still neatly by his sides, from what you can see, and really, he doesn’t need them. Circling your clit, sucking the bud between his lips, fucking his tongue into you gently…he’s plenty good with just his mouth.

You decide he needs a bit more of a challenge, and you tug on his leash so that it digs into the smooth sinewy column of his pretty neck.

A strangled word that almost sounds like begging catches your attention.

Chan is, first and foremost, eager to please. If a scene is focused on you, he doesn’t beg or even ask for very much. He’s not a brat, that’s for certain. The perfect service top, giving to a fault, much the same way that he likes to be in the other areas of his life. It’s part of the reason you feel the need to take full control and spoil him so much.

But now, here, as you wrap the end of the leash around your wrist and increase the pressure on his throat, he breaks.

“More.”

It’s just a rasp, a gentle whining request that has you breathing out a laugh through your own pleasure.

“What was that?” you ask, “You want me to pull harder, hm?”

He just looks up at you, eyes shiny and slightly glazed. His tongue is still moving against you in perfect time, and you give him a dark smile.

“My poor dumb puppy, so pussy-drunk he can’t even string two words together,” you say.

You give another tug on the leash, harder than all the previous times. It’s not enough force to pull him away from your core, but it’s plenty to cut off his breathing for a split second. When you let the line go slack in your hand, Chan gasps in a breath that turns almost immediately into a helpless moan.

Satisfied with his reaction, you give him a moment to recover. But as you tune into him for any sounds or signs of discomfort, you notice a very distinct sound of skin on skin.

He’s not touching you. But if you’re not mistaken, he IS touching…

“What are you doing?” you ask sharply.

Chan freezes. His mouth stops moving, that skin-on-skin sound stops, and you can feel him huff out an anxious breath against your inner thigh.

“What are you doing?” you repeat.

“I…” he hesitates.

You sit up more fully, and Chan’s eyes are trained on your face as you look down to see him with his cock in hand, slick with precome.

“Y-you…you didn’t say I couldn’t…” he mumbles, letting go of his cock reluctantly.

“I didn’t say you could, either,” you counter sharply.

“I’m sorry, I just-”

You tut. “Does eating pussy just make you that fucking horny, puppy? So horny that you have to jerk yourself off without asking first?”

Almost imperceptibly, Chan nods.

“Use your words,” you say.

“I do love making you feel good, miss,” he says.

“That’s not what I asked.”

He hesitates. “Y-yes, eating pussy makes me that horny, miss. I couldn’t help it.”

“See, not that hard, is it, puppy? Using your words?”

Chan nods again.

You give him a soft smile, a genuine one. As much as you love pushing his buttons and making him squirm with the obscene things you can coax out of his mouth, you love him most of all. He returns it in kind, a shy little smile.

“You’re not gonna touch yourself without permission, are you?” you ask.

“No, miss.”

“Good boy.”

Another tug on the leash is all it takes to get his mouth back on you, the hot wet slide against your clit after a period of rest hitting just right, your nerves prickling with the sharp stimulation. You’re suddenly much closer than before, and you let your hips roll into the pressure shamelessly.

“Make me cum, and then we’ll see about you,” you say.

Chan mumbles a reply that you can’t quite hear, but you’re not about to make him repeat himself and risk breaking his stride. You’ve let your eyes slide closed, dedicated only to enjoying.

The response from practically choking him with the collar was absolutely delicious, so you wrap the leash another loop around your fist and tug. Chan moans, cut off into a gasp in the middle by the lack of air, and he leans his head against your thigh as he catches his breath.

“Miss, if you keep doing that…” Chan breathes.

“What, you’ll cum all over yourself like a filthy little pup?” you chide.

He just whines, and continues his careful assault on your folds, determined to make you cum before he loses his mind entirely.

Fortunately, the constant and steady feeling of his mouth on you, the obscene sounds of your wetness on his tongue, the little noises he’s making under his breath as he’s savoring you, all combine to drive you closer and closer to your high.

You peel open your eyes, and the sight of him is the final thing you need to push yourself over the edge.

Kneeling on the hardwood, blonde hair mussed and curly and wild, eyes shut, dick leaking precome against his thigh, hands once again clasped behind his back as if to fully resist the temptation to touch after he’s been told not to.

Gorgeous.

Your back bows as you cum, and you have one hand tugging at the leash and the other hand fisted in Chan’s hair, holding his mouth against you as you gasp out his name. He dutifully licks you through the tremors of it, not stopping until you’ve begun to nearly writhe away from him from the overstimulation.

“See, what did I say?” you tell him, as you catch your breath, falling fully onto your back to stretch out, “Gotta keep that mouth busy.”

“Is it my turn, miss?” he asks.

He sounds impatient, a little bit of bite leaking into his words, and you grin to yourself. You turn your torso until your spine pops, releasing some of the tension in your bones, and you swing back up into a sitting position. Chan has relaxed to sit fully on his heels, just watching you with big puppy eyes.

“You’re lucky I’m so nice,” you tease, ruffling his hair affectionately, “If you pull another stunt like that, I’ll have to put you in cuffs.”

#stray kids #bang chan #bang chan smut #bang chan fanfic #stray kids chan #stray kids chan smut #tw hard dom #tw degradation #tw pet play #kpop #kpop fanfic

[kkruml]

STAY CH 16

I am absolutely gobsmacked by all the love this wee story has gotten over time. I did not intend for it to take as long as it did to find the ending to this story, but alas, life and circumstances (and a f*cking pandemic) got in the way. BUT- it’s here. The final chapter. I hope you all have enjoyed the ride. This story started off as a prompt about a trope that I had always enjoyed but never considered writing. I am glad I took the leap and am forever grateful for the support and beta magic that are @abreathofsnowandwaffles​ and @missclairebelle​. Without you both I would never have attempted this. I love you both.

To everyone who has read, shared, and enjoyed (even a little!) this story, thank you.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

AO3

Mood music

Previously

Whole.

The word danced around the corners of her mind. Her eyes shifted from him to the golden hues splashed across the sky. Was she whole? Twisting her wrist for inspection, she felt no sharp pain, just a dull ache from use.

No longer broken.

Now came the recovery. As a doctor she had seen the scans, she knew the rehabilitation trajectory. Yet here, with him, the statistics and analytical journal findings faded from mental view. Here, in this moment, she was simply Claire. With Jamie. Her Jamie. An overwhelming sense of calm washed over her.

“I think I know exactly what you mean,” drawing her gaze back to him, she exhaled contentedly. Instinctively, her hand reached out for his, taking it gently. “Thank you, Jamie.”

“Och, ‘tis nothing lass.” Dirt-stained fingertips pressed into her skin. His warmth encompassed her.

“Jamie…” she started, her eyes lowering to see their fingers intertwined. Blinking hard and tilting her face to meet his, she finished, “I don’t just mean for today.”

An echo of a smile tugged at his lips and he exhaled.

“Dinna fash, Sassenach,” His voice hummed, soft and tender. “There’s the two of us now.”

His words were so simple. But there was something in the blue of his eyes that spoke to the depth of his meaning. Her breath caught as she felt the same weight of prophecy to his words.

CLAIRE

Blue.

Whisky.

Stay.

The words whispered to her in a soft rhythm, beckoning her from sleep. One eye begrudgingly parted and she was blessed with the sight of Jamie’s face. His nose, straight and angled, thick stubble dappled his cheeks, and the line of his lips curled into a small smile while he slept. 

She had missed that quiet smile. 

It had been so long. Since the accident. 

She yearned for it. 

Ached for it.

Shifting slightly onto her side she felt his arm tighten around her waist, and a flutter of a giggle tickled her chest.

He had been gentle with her, almost too gentle. At first he kept a respectable space as to avoid injuring or jostling her arm, or pressing into her ribs as they healed. But then as days passed, they became hesitant with each other as a small crack formed and slowly spread to fill the space between, a sliver at a time. 

It had been weeks. But tonight, he had reached out to her in sleep. 

Perhaps it was the whisky from the hours earlier, or the heady tension between them as they traded glasses and slipped farther and farther into their own bubble, consumed by each other’s mere presence that she’d felt a shift between them. His warmth encompassed her and flushed her cheeks before dipping into her chest. She burned for his touch. Her fingers trembled as they slowly rose towards his face, before stopping just short of his jawline. She faltered for a moment, losing her nerve. 

What if he woke up? 

The thought lit the fire that had sunk just below her belly button and her lip quivered. The boldness she felt that night, all those months ago- that night he bared his soul to her, the night he told her about the accident- that strength had slowly faded from her with each passing day since her injury. 

Gently placing her hand back onto her side, her eyes traced the solid line of muscle from his shoulder down to his elbow. Perfect peaks and valleys were highlighted by the faint moonlight. Reveling in the knowledge that he was hers, she let out a satisfied sigh.

A glow from the bedside table caught her attention and she rolled her eyes. She knew who it was, and what the message said, and she silently cursed herself for the spontaneous text earlier. A moment of alcohol-induced bravery had prompted a bold proclamation. That tonight, she would reclaim that lost and most intimate connection with Jamie… in a somewhat less than mature manner of speaking.

Lifting the phone enough to see the screen, she caught the text that flashed.

    Have ye crawled out from under the Viking for air yet?

Geillis. 

To be honest, there were a few moments she thought that it might happen. Jamie’s gaze grew more menacing and his fingers lingered as they traced the lines of her hem at the small of her back, all the while whispering old stories of Lallybroch in her ear so close that she could taste the amber liquid on his breath. But then… after stumbling past the doorway into their bedroom, with fits of laughter breaking between them, they settled into a coy yet contented ball of sheets and blankets on the bed. 

She had welcomed the weight of his body against hers as their laughter softly echoed off the bedroom walls. But with a swift tug of the comforter beneath them, he had rolled clumsily onto her left side and the spell between them was broken. Stammering his way through an impassioned apology, he shifted his body, overcompensating for the contact and leaving ample space between them. The buzzing electricity between them simmered and the courage she’d come so close to wielding receded. After a few more gentle smiles and muttered apologies from Jamie, they both had drifted into blissful sleep. But that ache persisted, and it rose from a dull ache to a heady throb.  

With a half-hearted sigh, she tapped the screen to respond.

    Will catch up tomorrow. Too tired and too much whisky tonight ;)

Three bubbles quickly appeared on her screen as Geillis’s words flashed quickly.

    Aye. Too much ‘Whisky.’ As ye say. XO

That was not what she meant, but she didn’t correct Geilis. They would see each other tomorrow, and she would set the record straight then. Maybe. 

Struggling to settle her mind back into the quiet darkness of the room, she let her eyelids close and the words beckoned again.

Stay. Please stay.

Her fingers twitched. Her head swirled with the words, and then a melody slowly seeped in and clouded her thoughts. An almost torturous rhythm played over and over in her head, keeping sleep at bay and forcing out the memories of the night before. 

Sighing again, this time in resignation, she slowly slid off the bed. Gently moving his arm to rest on the space she had just vacated, she paused. Gazing at his perfect form in the tangle of sheets in their bed for a moment longer, she then turned on her heel and padded out of the room.

Where is that bloody guitar?

-

JAMIE

Claire.

Mmm. Feeling the warmth against his palm, he contracted his muscles and pulled a tangle of empty bed sheets against his chest. 

Where is she?

Thoughts came quickly, erratic and half-formed as he blinked the sleep from his eyes. 

His last vision of her was in bed next to him, a beautiful mosaic of dark curls and light skin, splintered in his mind but beautiful nonetheless.

It was still late… no- early? The soft morning light had not yet fully crept through the curtains, but it kissed the soft linen and a glow inched across the bedroom floor.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he could still, but barely, see her face as they stumbled into his, no their flat just hours before- lips parted in a beaming grin, eyes warm and glowing, curls spilling out of a bird’s nest atop her head. 

Having stopped at a local pub in a desperate attempt to prolong their evening, the memory of her leaning in closely as each drop of amber fluid eased the tension in her shoulders.  The heat on her breath as she whispered new Gaelic words she had been studying but never said aloud settled in his bones and burned just under the surface. The timidity between them had receded with every look, every brush of skin against each other. Like a balm on a healing wound, her every look and movement was a salve on his soul. 

Shaking his head, the memory slowly faded, and he blinked ruefully as it subsided. He heard a faint sound, a slight… plucking of strings? Moving quickly through the flat he eyed his guitar stand in the corner by the couch- empty.

His lip twitched and he fought the sensation. Doesna mean anything.. Or does it?

Grabbing the tumbled mass of tartan on the cushion, he slinked his way up the fire escape to the rooftop, following the sounds of his guitar as the notes tweaked and came into tune.

-

CLAIRE

There’s my C. Finally.

He said it would come with time, but neglected to mention just how tedious tuning a guitar could be. It always seemed to sing when he played, a natural extension of himself. 

Effortless. 

He was right.

A small echo of a laugh bubbled in her chest. He was always so sure when he spoke. Whether he was storytelling or gesticulating on the latest rugby match. There was a conviction in his words, and in this instance, she knew he was right. What the strings and pick are to him, a scalpel and needle are to her.

She plucked the string again. 

Bloody Scot was right. 

And she was grateful for it.

Letting out a quick breath into the crisp night air, her eyelids fluttered shut as the words undulated in her mind, like a tide rolling in. Growing closer, then receding before pushing closer and closer, she surrendered to the pulsating rhythm. 

With a quick roll of the wrist, and sigh of relief as it cooperated without sign of pain, she set her fingers against the strings. The words thrummed in her ears, echoing as the memory struggles to come into focus. 

“Nothing is lost… please stay.”

JAMIE

His breath caught as his eyes found her, freezing him. An unruly mess of dark curls cascaded around her, the wind toying with a strand as it twisted and fluttered in the air, the curves of her shoulders draped in his favorite rugby shirt.   

He stood breathlessly, watching as her hand absentmindedly grasped the errant lock and tucked it behind one ear. The movement was subtle, but made his heart pound. Her wrist, newly healed and etched with fresh scars, moved with an ease. There was a fluidity, an almost absent-mindedness he hadn’t seen in weeks.

Her chin was set in determination, her lower lip tucked between her teeth and head cocked as if the guitar was whispering its secrets to her. The curve of her back matched the line of his guitar, two of his favorite things molded into one.

A Dhia.

She was beautiful.

With a heavy exhale to take in the scene, his body rested against the metal railing. A high pitched creak filled the air and he watched as her face jerked toward him in panic. The current of gold in her eyes settled slightly as they fixed on him before igniting into a deep ember.

-

CLAIRE

His hair was tousled from sleep, but his eyes were electric, and the slope of his lips, parted as raspy breath escaped, filled her vision. The heat of his stare traveled down her throat with a hard swallow, descending into the depths just below her navel. Blinking hard to quell the feeling, she held her gaze, letting his beauty overtake her nerves.

“Are ye alright, mo nighean donn?” his voice cut through the darkness. It shook just slightly as the Gaelic punctuated his question, two fingers tapping against his thigh. 

My brown haired lass.  

She remembered the first time he’d called her that. He promised one day he’d tell her what it meant. Instead, she’d found them in an old, nondescript and dusty book on his shelf... or perhaps the words found her. She reveled in knowing what it meant as he’d whisper it in darkness, tender and soft. 

“Y-yes, quite,” she started as pulled herself back to the present. Letting a deep sigh encompass her, she met his eye. “Did I wake you?”

“Ach no, I just dinna...” he started as twitching fingers ran through his hair. “ I just… dinna sleep well wi’out ye with me.”

“Oh.” she said quietly, letting a small smile play at her lips as heat rose in her chest. “I wanted to show you something.”

One eyebrow quirked and with it came a breathtaking grin framed by fiery red hair and electric blue eyes. “I seem to recall ye said once that they let anyone play.”

-

JAMIE

“Och! You don’t need to ruin the moment,” she said with exasperation.

“Wai- what?”  His ears perked at the noise. Cocking his head to the side, he tried to find the words. “Was that...Did ye just-” 

With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, she countered, “Wot?”

“Tis nothing,” he started, recovering from his stumble. “That was just a decidedly Scottish sound there…” 

“I most certainly did not,” her voice stuttered on the last word, her eyebrows creasing as he watched her question her own words. 

Thank the laird for small miracles and glass faces.

“Are ye sure yer a Sassenach aft-after all?” A laugh rumbled from his chest as he moved toward her, “Ye do a fine version of a salty auld Highlander indeed.” 

“Well,” her lips parted in a conciliatory smile and her eyes glowed. “I seem to have learned from the best.”

A breeze filled the space between them and he caught her slight frame shiver.

“Are ye cold, Sassenach?” he asked, drawing out the last word for emphasis. She was an outlander, a most rare and precious gift. 

“I’m alright,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders, but there was no conviction behind her voice.

“Dinna be stubborn lass, I can hear yer teeth rattle from here.” He countered with an attempt at a wink. In truth, it was an excuse, any excuse to move closer to her. 

Her face softened and she sighed, nodding as she bit down on her lower lip. His eyes darted to her mouth, tracing every curve and line. His tongue reflexively darted out and licked his lips, aching to taste her breath against his skin. Balling his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching out to touch her face, his fingers dug into crumpled up fabric- the tartan soft and warm in his hand.

The tactile sensation brought him from his thoughts, and he held it out to her as he closed the space between them. His lips curled as he cocked his head, “After all… Ye canna bring dishonor on the Fraser colors, Sassenach.” 

“Oh mon dieu, first the Fréselière and now your clan’s colors and creed?” Her eyes were alight with humor as she turned to fully face him, his guitar shifting in her lap. She inhaled sharply, her eyes intent and glowing, “My hands seem to be full at the moment... might you help?”

He stood still, surprised for a moment but swallowed hard and gathered up the material in both hands. Timidly, he wrapped his arms around her, her hair tickling his nose as he leaned in close.

Pressing against him softly, her voice was low and heavy as she said, “Thank you.”

Giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze, he set himself on the seat next to her- close but not quite touching. “Ach, so ye had something to play then, aye?”

“Well it’s just the start of something, I think,” she mumbled.

The familiar chords echoed between them as she hummed the melody. Had he played that for her before? He didn't think he had?

-

CLAIRE

She pulled her eyes from her fingers as they pressed into the cords to find his gaze heavy on her. She hummed for a few beats and then with eyes closed she exhaled with contentment. 

“Clear blue….” she breathed, waiting for the next chord progression to continue with a disjointed “world of whiskey.” The strings vibrated against her fingertips before she whispered the lines that had repeated over and over in her mind, “Nothing is lost… Please stay.”

Slowly, she opened her eyes to see him staring at her. His hands were clasped together tightly, fingernails dug slightly into ruddy, sunkissed skin.

“I wasn’t sure.. I mean, it’s-” she was suddenly shy, embarrassed. It was absurd to try to explain, the words just… were to her.

His face was frozen and his lower lip quivered. With a low, shaky voice he asked, “Where did ye find those words?”

“They just…” she started. Without thinking she continued, the words tumbling out of her, “They just came to me. I think it was a dream. I was drowning, and then I saw... light. Wings. And then a voice asking me to stay.”

“Mo Chridhe,” his voice was almost a whisper, each word quiet but strong. “That was me.”

She struggled to understand the pain in his voice. “You?”

Fragmented time flashed through her mind. Her father, the heron’s wings. The tattoo. The flutter of wings in her ears as she lay in that bed. Through it all, the words, those words- they cut through the noise. 

It was him.

-

JAMIE

He watched her, waiting. The realization flashed across her face.

Her voice was almost a whisper, but her eyes were a smoldering amber.  Her voice was sure, true. “It was you.” 

She remembered.

The weeks lost to the accident and the uncertainty of what was to come when she couldn’t remember- the truths they had shared… it was still there. A weight lifted from his chest and he exhaled for what felt like the first time in weeks.

Whatever it was between them, that awful night hadn’t stolen it from them. As she had lain, still and broken, in that hospital bed amidst a rhythmic beeping of machines and hushed voices in the hallway, he had sung to her. 

And she had heard him.

“It was me,” he said simply, wanting to repeat those words over and over again. Inching close, eyes trained on her, he let the echo of a smile pull at his lip. “I had trouble finishing the line.”

The whisky in her eyes burned as her chest heaved with effort. The gravity of the moment threatened to crumble her facade, and she struggled to keep her tone light, “Yes, you did.”

The confirmation sent a shock wave through him. “So, Sassenach…” he let his voice fade as he contemplated. His voice hung between them, both unsure of how to speak.

-

CLAIRE

His voice was low, his irises almost black. “How does it end then?” 

The silence throbbed between them like a heartbeat. The weight of his question lingered. Seemingly innocent on the surface, the deeper meaning reverberating between them. 

With a small smile, her fingers touched the strings. Without breaking eye contact, she lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders. 

“Your face is my heart and the love of you…” she paused, wanting the words to ring true. Her hand twitched and curled to find the strings without difficulty as she finished, “My soul.” 

The chord hung between them, the vibration echoing against her skin. Without looking away, she gently set the guitar down as the note dissipated and scattered into the air. The wind whipped between them, the familiar scent of linen, sandalwood and him struck her as she watched him, waiting.

“I thought I’d lost ye,” his voice was gravely as it tumbled out of him, carrying the weight of the last several weeks. His eyes were focused on a point in the distance. When he pulled his gaze to her, she saw a pool of tears threatening to brim over. Speaking the truths he’d hidden even from himself, his voice broke as he said, “First wi’ the accident and then ye lost sae many memories of… us. I just couldna bear it- losing ye, losing us.”

“Jamie…” her chest constricted as she watched his face contort and relive that night.

-

JAMIE

“I dinna ken what I’d do wi’out ye. I was born-” He felt the desperation in his voice, but he couldn’t stop it. She had to know. Had to understand. She needed to feel the love that nearly burst out of his chest, and the agony he’d kept at bay these last long few weeks. He pushed his fingers through his curls as the words spilled out in fragments, “I  was- I c-cannae explain it I just… just….  Christ!”

All the words he needed to say came crashing down in his mind and he couldn’t form a single thought to sort them out. He stood helplessly, two digits thrumming against his leg.

Her tone was low as she peeked through furrowed brows and dark lashes, “... I was born for you?”

“Aye,” His eyes darted to her face, the air ripped from his lungs. “How did ye know?”

“Jamie…” her voice was small but warm.  “I’ve whispered those same words.. I’ve known that every day since I met you.”  

“Claire,” his voice coiled around her name, reveling in the sound. His fingers twitched again as he raised his hand to her face, cupping the smooth porcelain of her cheek.

-

CLAIRE

Feeling the dam break, she leaned into his touch. “Bha mi gad ionndrainn.”

His hand sunk into her hair, pulling her to him. Grasping his forearms, she pressed her forehead to his. “I’ve missed you, too.”

His breath was heated against her cheek, a faint scent of whisky lingered between them. Her fingers slowly lifted to trace the line of his jaw, the stubble coarse against her skin. They settled just below his jawline, feeling his pulse quicken against her fingertips. Tentatively, she lifted his face to meet hers, and it was breathtaking. Dark flecks interrupted the turbulent blue in his eyes, and they trained on hers with a weight that ignited a fire in her chest.

“I would like-” he started, his voice raspy and raw. His skin was almost vibrating with need. “-Very much to kiss you. May I?”

An ache pulled deep in her belly as she struggled to focus on the words- the anticipation filling her senses. Struggling to focus, she blinked hard and smiled, “You may.”

His fingers intertwined in her hair as he leaned in, soft yet firm. With a final sigh, she closed her eyes and tilted her chin to meet his. His lips were warm and full, quickly molding to hers. With two more movements her tongue was tracing his lip and as she felt them part, she pushed against him with arms snaking around his neck.

Tongues pulsed and kneaded against each other as her hands found his hair as his arms circled around her waist. His fingers urgently sought her skin, pressing into the flesh at the small of her back as she arched into him. The aching need of the past weeks melted away with every movement and every ragged breath between them.

-

JAMIE

Every thought scattered. There was nothing but her. She filled every sense. The lavender of her shampoo, the velvety touch of her skin against his fingertips as he pulled her closer, the sound of her exhale as she reignited their kiss. He needed her now.

 For all the time and distance and tentative silence that had grown between them, speaking was now unnecessary. 

He needed to show her the way he loved her. Struggling for composure, one hand snaked up into her hair and he pulled back his lips and held her in place. 

Her lips were swollen, cheeks flushed and beautiful. Her eyes were a fiery gold and glistened with a thin film of tears. 

Sorcha.

Sassenach.

Claire.

She was his, he was hers. Shattered apart, a beautiful mosaic of both pain and triumph together. They fought for this. They earned this. 

Her breath was shaky but her voice was calm, “Will you have me?”

The gold specks in her eyes burned like embers as she held his gaze. His skin pulsed with electricity as her fingers lifted the tartan to cover his shoulders. Leaning forward and gently lowering her to the ground, he felt the soft warmth of her body beneath her and he knew he was home. She was home to him. 

“Yes,” he whispered as the heat in his chest reverberated out into his fingertips. 

He would have had her, any part of her, in any way he could- even the quiet, timid moments of the past few weeks where he had scarcely dared to touch her. But here, now, he saw that each crack and fracture she had endured had only healed stronger. Made more beautiful by the very lines of black etched into her skin, the flap of a heron’s wing flashed before his eyes before fading into the vision of her face.

He pressed against her as he lowered his face to hers.  “Yes, I’ll have you.”

Now and forever.

#STAY fic #outlander #outlander fic #fan fic #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #holy shit i did it

[echo-of-sounds]

such a baby

-Present Mic x f!reader-

smut drabble (with a much more dominant reader than I originally intended)

This is the first time I’m actively asking for feedback. I’ve never written a dominant reader or a rimming/pegging scenario. Any feedback is welcomed: what/if you liked it, is the tone/mood/pace okay, would you like to see more of this? Hearing from you guys helps my confidence and drive to write. Don’t like/Don’t read: rimming, anal fingering, pegging

Whimpers and whines wept from his mouth. The lustful lyrics lured you wet. But this wasn’t about you. This was meant for Hizashi, to provoke, to indulge the gluttony that’s amassed over the past weeks. He was finally home, and he was finally naked and open and perfectly presented to you.

Your lips and tongue pet over him, freely, wetly smacking with every peck. Heated skin pursed, thanking you for your tongue’s touch. Taught, trained muscles subtly loosened, anticipating something bigger, thicker.

Yearning to see his state, you straightened. The silk ribbon hid his eyes. Drool doused the sheets around his mouth. Blond hair flared across the blanket. Lotioned skin glowed. His spine bowed gracefully. You ran your hands up his back, feeling the sweat and swelter and stimulation. He was utterly stunning. 

His head turned towards you, begging in a hungry, horny plea, “C’mon…”

You used your middle finger to circle him. Saliva beaded and dribbled, approaching his hanging balls, drizzling around the pinker, sensitive skin. You flicked them and he jerked. He humped backward, trying to goad you in for more. His balls swung, spilling spit to the bed, mixing with the ridiculous amount of precum globules already there.

“You’re so beautiful, baby.” You kissed his sacrum.

“Keep going…”

“I’ve missed you so much,” you hummed, kissing his cheek. They were nice mounds, even though he wasn’t a fitness fanatic. He just got lucky in the ass department.

He murmured your name.

Not holding back, you nipped his skin and pulled. A cute cherry splotched the area. You repeated the action, increasing the bite force and tugging. The sweet color bloomed across his stress-ridden cheek. You made out with the skin, mumbling, “You taste amazing.”

Hizashi jerked again, fussing for more again. “Please-”

He gasped when you gripped his helpless, dangling erection. They turned to moans as you began pumping, slicking spit and precum along him. His thighs spread more for you. “Lick me-”

You interrupted him another time, brushing your tongue over him, pressing hard, but not into, him. The soft tissue puckered and clinched. Altho he begged you refused to push in. You did lap downward, past his perineum, to his balls. They clenched from your tweaking teeth and sucking, seeking lips.

“No,” he protested, squirming his hips. “Your tongue. I want your tongue. Put your tongue in me.”

He really knew how to be a pillow princess when he wanted.

Obliging his desire, your tongue returned to where he asked. His thanks came out a la guttural moan. First, you fondled lightly, admiring his heat. Second, you washed broadly, adoring his limber, rimple texture. Then you kissed and sucked, cherishing his dulcet whines and little wriggles.

As you continued with your mouth, you wrapped your pointer finger and thumb around the lip of his head, bobbing them on and off it, earning a loud response. You wormed your tongue inside. Excitement clamped him tight: it raised his groans and satisfied him to his first orgasm.

Fingers snagged your hair. Hips ground backward, riding your face as he swelled, singing his siren song until cum rushed out and he slumped to the bed.

While Hizashi calmed, you slipped the strapon harness on and situated his favorite purple dildo in place. The eight inches were just a tad too much for you. The thickness didn’t help. But he sure as hell enjoyed it.

He laid flat. His tender cock squished under his body, between his legs, soaking in a puddle of saliva and semen. You added lube to the mix by delicately smoothing two fingers from top to bottom. Whines sounded when you circled him. They rose when a finger inched in. They peaked once both were inside, pushing down, fluently thrusting into the well-known warmth.

His groan of your name pulled you in for a kiss. A spit-coated tongue rushed into your mouth, laving, billowing, tasting needfully. “Put in me.”

“I need to stretch you.”

“No, just- fuck!” Hizashi cut off at your spreading fingers. “Just fuck me already, please.”

Regardless of the fact that his eyes were hidden, you knew exactly what they looked like: gorgeous greens and trimmed eyebrows praying to be fucked.

“You turn into such a baby sometimes.”

“Then you better treat me right.”

“Fair enough.” Using your pointer finger to guide, you slowly and gently slid inside. The pop around the dildo’s head went well, but halfway Hizashi gripped the bedsheet, moaning more distressingly than pleasurably. 

Rubbing his back, you asked, “Are you alright?”

Nails scratched your thigh. “It’s bigger… God, it’s so much bigger than I remember.”

“Do you need a break?”

“Fuck, no.”

You kissed his shoulder blade. Ignited skin warmed your lips and palms. He was quiet, still clawing. “Breathe. Breathe through it.”

He sucked in and immersed himself in your care, simply experiencing your kisses and caresses while he acclimated to the stretch. You applied a little more lube onto the dildo and lathered it, massaging his thighs and lovely bum. His breaths gradually evened. Fingers released. Muscles relaxed, allowing you to slip a bit deeper.

You planted a kiss on his neck, getting a pleasure-filled moan. You licked next with the same result. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just start slow for me.”

“Of course.” You kneeled, spread him with your thumbs, and watched the dildo sink. His snug rim formed over the shaft’s ridged texture. Each bump widened skin so hypnotically. “You’re doing perfect, baby. Just like you always do.”

Hizashi swore into a pillow once the purple was swallowed. It slithered out, drawing out his puckered skin with it, and snaked back in, seeping lube. You swayed your hips steadily. The sight of him harboring the eight inches satisfied everything you’ve lacked for the past few weeks.

“Faster.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“You really sure?”

“Fuck, yes, fuck.” His mewl convinced you.

Bearing your hands and weight on his back, you lifted and dropped harder, satiating your desires. Skin slapped loudly. It stuck sweat and shuddered his body. You found yourself moaning at the sight, speeding your lunging, “Keep singing for me.”

Hizashi raised his hips to a better angle. The first thrust produced purrs. The second: swears. The third: his quirk vibrated his curved torso, rich, hollow, and heavy, a rhythmic bassline for his groans to follow. Fingers yanked at the sheets. He propped his ass further up for more.

But you slowed, giving his breath time to catch, and leisurely humped. You palmed his thighs and sides. He clenched with your tongue-and-lip kisses. An occasional coo tempted your ears, like a sweet invite for more.

You asked, “How’re you doing?”

His response mingled into groans.

“Hmm. You act like such a baby whenever you’re fucked. I wonder how many have seen you like this.” You completely lifted then lodged fully, provoking a resonating, echoing moan. You gyrated to grind the dildo around. Hands flung to your thighs. Ignoring the plea, you pitilessly bit his shoulder blade, reveling in the woeful warbling. “But you’re my baby now, and I love you. Do you want to ride me?”

“God, yes!”

The instant you slipped out, Hizashi eagerly scrambled on top, threw himself back onto the dildo, and flung his head back, exposing his vulnerable neck as he began rolling. 

He went to grab himself, but you swatted his hand away. The flush and drool signaled how close he was. He’d probably only last two or three minutes- four if he was feeling Herculean. You chided, “I think you can cum without that.”

Despite a grumble, he listened. His cock sprung up and down with his first bounces. You petted his thighs and sides, pinching to hear his climbing-to-tenor moans that were mounting towards the teasing crest.

Every bounce jolted his voice. “Please, fuck- touch- me, fuck-”

To answer, you flicked a nipple.

More and more precum leaked. Strings formed from his wobbling cock, sticking to his stomach, stretching to yours, driveling ropes and beads between. Lube and other liquids slobbered, absolutely drenching the dildo. Filthy sloshes poured from him. His sounds and noises plagued the room, “Please! Please!”

You relented and gripped his swollen, hot, throbbing cock. Purple disappeared, sheltering inside. Nails drove into your thighs. Hips jerked vigorously. Wonton moans and his heavy, hearty chorus bewitched your mind, making you not bother quieting them as much as your neighbors would hate you for it, letting him perform his finale as he crooned and cried and released onto your stomach.

At the closing, Hizashi’s deadweight flopped forward, smearing the melting-pot of liquids. He snuggled close and suckled on your breasts, using them like a soother while the heat drowsily died. It left you wanting to just roll over and fall asleep with him cradled in your arms.

But you couldn’t do that. Both of you needed a cleaning, and he no doubt wanted a snack after two orgasms. You sighed, “Tired?”

“Yeah.”

You untied the silk ribbon to reveal his delightfully satisfied, dozy eyes. Wet lips remained attached to your nipple. You stroked his spine, watching him loll and nurse, and kissed his tangled hair. “You really do turn into a baby, you know?”

“But you love me.”

“I do.”

#present mic #present mic x reader #yamada hizashi #hizashi x reader #present mic smut #present mic imagine #bnha smut #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #bnha

[dubersbutt]

I don’t know if you’re comfortable with this, if not just ignore it. I was wondering if you could write what a poly relationship/sexual life would be like with Leon and Connor?

So I had a little bit of fun with this - 1.5K words

There’s a little bit of mlm in this, but nothing too explicit. However, I was thinking of turning this into a mini series, what do y’all think?

“Is this really necessary?” Connor asks as you tie your his hands behind him on he chair he’s sitting on.

“You’re the one that can’t follow directions,” you tease, lightly brushing your lips against hip, “Leo and I don’t trust you, hence the rope.”

“Is he still complaining?” Leon asks as he leaves the connecting bathroom.

“I’m only complaining because both my  partners are bullying me,” he says and the two of you just laugh. 

You finish tying the knots, making sure they’re not too tight before you lean down to give Connor’s dick a few strokes. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” you say, giving his tip a quick teasing lick, “I’ll make it worth your while.” 

Connor’s only a little embarrassed to admit that your wink alone could make him bust right there. He shuts his eyes for a moment to calm himself and when he opens them he lets out a groan when he sees you settled in Leon’s lap, grinding against him. The lacy little number you're wearing leaves so little to the imagination - panels of sheer fabric messing with his mind. He just wants to rip in off you and fuck you until you scream. 

He watches as you undress Leon, pawing at his shirt and then his sweats, yanking them down to reveal Leon’s hardening cock - the man never wore boxers when he was home, hardly wore pants even. Connor’s eyes are drawn where you’re jacking of Leon the way he likes - slow hard strokes, something that Connor has become very accustomed to.

“Mm baby,” Leo moans moving your hand, “Why don’t you open yourself up for me?” 

You nod your head, hand slipping between your legs. You let out a soft hum as you circle your clit and Connor’s cock twitches. He’s so hard and leaking onto his stomach. He momentarily forgets about the restraints and tries to stand up, but is pulled back when he can’t lift his legs from where you’ve secured them. He whines when he can’t see your fingers slipping in and out of your pussy. Leon looks at him over your shoulder and smirks - when he’s untied he’s totally gonna smack Leon. 

“Baby, why don’t you turn around so Connor can see,” Leon suggests and you nod, carefully adjusting yourself in Leon’s lap until your back is resting against his chest. 

Leon holds your legs open so Connor can see you fuck yourself on your fingers. He can’t look away as you add a third finger, breathes becoming quicker. Leon’s kissing down your shoulder as he unclasps your bra and throws it somewhere across the room. One of his hands come up to pinch your nipple while he uses the other to keep your legs apart. 

Your moans start to get louder, your hips a little faster and one of your arms reaches back to grip the short hairs at the base of Leon’s neck. Connor knows exactly how that feels, and he moans when he sees Leon gives into your request and presses his lips to yours. You groan into his mouth, Connor can tell tell you’re getting close when Leon pulls away abruptly.

He grips your wrist, pulling it away from your pussy, and Connor’s cock is very interested in the way your hands glisten.

“Did I say you could cum, baby girl?” Leo asks and you shake your head no, “Then why are you trying to? Do you want to be tied up with Connor?”

And while Connor thinks that’s a great idea, you apologize, promising to behave. 

Leon finally acknowledges him for the first time in what feels like forever, holding up your still wet hand, “Wanna taste?”

Connor nods, hoping for any kind of attention at this point. His dick is aching, he pretty sure he’s never been this hard before, but Leon just laughs at him, pulling pulling one of your fingers into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Connor doesn’t even realize he’s whining until the words are out of his mouth, “Let me join, please.”

“So impatient,” you tease, hand moving back to Leon’s dick, “Maybe we should put a gag on him.”

Leon lets out a moan, because of your words or your actions Connor doesn’t know, “Maybe next time.”

Connor strains against the ropes, toes twitching as he watches Leon flip you onto your stomach, and propping your hips. He lines his dick up with your entrance, running his cock over your folds a few times before pushing in slowly. You moan into the blankets, hands gripping the sheets below as you adjust to Leon’s size. Connor aches, he doesn’t care if he’s the one fucking or being fucked, he just wants to rip himself free. He has a live porn show in front of him, and he can’t even fully enjoy it.

Connor bites his bottom lip when Leon starts to pound into you. You always take dick so well, arching your back and meeting your hips with his.

“You like performing?” Leon grunts, “You like knowing that Connor’s watching, just waiting to get his hands on you.” 

You moan at his words, and Leon’s hand comes down on your ass, “I asked you a question, baby girl.”

“Yes,” you pant, and Leon rubs your clit, “Yes, I like being watched.”

“Such a good girl for me,” Leon responds, slamming his hips into yours. 

“Leon let me cum,” you beg, and Connor wants to scream, “please, I’ve been good.” 

“Of course, baby girl,” he permits and you cum with a scream. You fall limp on the bed and Leon has to hold your hips. 

You’re completely fucked out, whining against the sheets. Leon’s favourite thing was to fuck the two of you through your orgasms, drawing out the pleasure until you felt like you were about to explode. A few more thrusts and he cums with a groan, flopping on the bed next to you. He says something to you, too low for Connor to hear and he’s about to lose it.

“Hello?” Connor calls, “Forget about me?”

You laugh as you slowly untangle yourself from Leon. He notices a slight hitch in your step as you walk over to him. 

“I would never forget about you, Con,” you sure as you kneel down between his legs.

He doesn’t get to answer before your tongue runs along his dick, from base to tip. His eyes squeeze shut when you take him into your mouth. Connor’s head falls back, mouth open when you start to bob your head. Connor doesn’t even realize Leon’s behind him until he feel another set of lips on his. Connor can’t help but thrust up into your throat when Leon’s hand rests on his throat.

“He’s not gonna last long, Leo,” you tease when you come up for air.

“Well you better do what we discussed, then,” he urges, reaching down and tweaking Connor’s nipple. 

He gasps, and is about to ask what was discussed, but his questions we answered when you sink down on him. Your puss engulfs his dick and Connor can’t think. He can feel your slick, and...Leon’s cum. Fuck, Connor’s head is about explode. 

“Leo let me touch her,” he begs, “please I need to touch her.” 

“That’s not my decision,” Leo responds and Connor’s head slumps forward in exasperation. 

“Please, (Y/N),” he moans, “Please let me touch you.”

“Well how am I supposed to say no to that,” you say, pulling his hair and tipping his head up to press your lips against his, “Take them off, Leon.”

Connor doesn't register Leon’s touch until the ropes are gone. His legs are still immobile but he’ll take what he can get. He’s got his hands all over you; digging into our hips, fondling your breasts, tangled in your hair as he tries to meet your thrusts. 

“I’m not gonna last long, baby,” Connor grunts.”

“That’s okay, Con,” you reply, kissing his throat, scraping your teeth against neck.

“Don’t worry,” Leon chimes in from the bed, hand loosely pumping his cock, “She’s already been satisfied by me.”

Connor wants to chirp him back, say anything really, but he can’t. He stopped being able to form a complete thought when you first spread your legs in Leon’s lap. He hides his head in your shoulder, moans and whines falling from his lips as he gets closer and closer. Your nails dig into his shoulders and he spills into you. You bounce on his cock a little longer, milking him for all he’s worth. Tears prick he corner of Connor’s eyes when you finally come to a halt. 

“Connor?” you ask, “you good?”

Connor just moans in response, still not able to speak.

“I think you broke him,” Leon jokes from the bed. 

“I think so,” you laugh when you turn to him, “How are you already hard again?”

“You’re hot, he’s hot,” Leon shrugs.

“Con, you down to give Leon a post game blowie?” You joke as Connor slowly starts to come back down to Earth.

“Half-assed handy is the best you’re gonna get for a while,” Connor responds, but as soon as he looks over at Leon with his hand around his dick his mouth waters. Maybe he could be convinced.

#Connor mcdavid #leon draisaitl #ran writes #nhl smut #poly fic

[hope-to-hell]

Because pirate Walker got into my head and wouldn’t leave.

When We Were Pirates, 1.6k words (how?). Warnings: dubcon/noncon, captivity, restraints, public sex, fingering.

Your senses filter in one at a time. The smell of salt air. The sound of waves. A gentle rocking motion beneath you. The heavy weight of manacles on your wrists.

Wait. Manacles? Your eyes fly open and he’s there, crouching down to lift your chin gently with one big, salt-rough hand. His eyes are deep blue and burning with infernal fire. “There you are, my pretty little thing. Wondered when you’d decide to join us. My name is Walker, but you can call me Sir.”

He tilts your head side to side, appraising. His fingers are warm, calloused, the tips digging into your cheeks just a bit too firmly for comfort. And he likes what he sees: you, disoriented. A little afraid. Your pupils dilating at his touch, betraying you. His voice is low and sweet, promising the darkest, most vicious pleasures. “I’ll enjoy ruining you, pet. By the time I’m done, your sweet little cunt will cry out to be fucked every time you see me.” And louder, so his men can hear: “This one’s mine.”

And to stake his claim he has you right there, cutting your clothes free, your nipples pebbling in the briny air for him to tweak between his calloused fingers; gooseflesh rises on your thighs as he kicks your ankles apart with a booted foot, as he plunges two fingers cruelly inside you. And oh how the crew murmurs as they watch, how they spit their jealousy at Captain Walker’s claim. Your cheeks burn even as you shiver, as you can’t help but rock your hips into his hand because his thumb is on you and fuck that’s good, somehow, the exposed nature of this act heightening all your senses. Walker— Sir— keeps you trapped within his gaze, bound to him by the motion of his hand.

“Eyes on me,” he murmurs as he’s pulling you apart with his thick fingers. Your eyes flick to his and you are caught, dragged under by that bright sea-ice stare. Your thighs are shaking and wet with need, and you can feel orgasm approaching like a wave, inexorable. “There you go, that’s my good girl. Come for me,” and to your shock and horror you do. Slickness coats his fingers as you clench around them; when he holds them to the light your need is evident. And he slips them into his mouth to lick them clean, to savor your taste on his tongue.

“Oh I am going to enjoy you.”

And with a hand firm on your chains he drags you to his quarters, binds you naked to the bed. It’s unspoken but it’s obvious: you’re there for him to use, however and whenever he sees fit.

Days pass in this way. He lengthens your chains so that you can walk about the room, so you can sit at the table to eat with him. No cutlery, he’s not stupid. But he brings you books now and again, and teaches you to read his charts and maps while he strokes a hand over your naked flesh and chuckles, “try again, pet. Focus.”

“Come here.” His voice is a rumble of thunder, his skin golden and striped with deep shadows in the lamplight. When he sits in his chair he is close enough for you to approach, to stand beside his chair and wait. Close enough for him to stroke a finger under the edge of your cuff, to feel where it meets your wrist. “Pretty little thing. I have a task for you.” He opens his flies and draws out his cock; it’s intimidatingly large, thick and veiny. And when he says “sit on it,” it makes you gasp.

And he laughs, the bastard, when you climb onto his lap and fail to get him inside you. It aches and burns and you could scream with it, but you are good (good girl, trying so hard for me, so pretty when you struggle. Your body doesn’t know me yet, but it will) and you do your very best. But he is not without mercy. He orders you to stand, and with tears of frustration still drying on your face, he sets to work.

Walker bends you over the desk, over maps and leather folios, little tchotchkes, detritus of a life at sea. “Hands on the desk, pet, and don’t move. Let’s open you up.” He strokes a big hand down your spine, over the swell of your naked ass. It’s warm but you still shiver at the touch. His thumbs stroke over the globes of your ass and inwards, til he can slip them into your folds, already starting to glisten. “Pet.” His voice is speculative as he considers the wetness there, as he sees the twitch and ripple of muscle. “You liked that, didnt you, trying to get me inside you. Why?”

“I—“ it’s mortifying, isn’t it, trying to put a name to that feeling, that dark thought that makes you burn with shame, even more than your exposed position does. “I thought about. About you. Forcing me down onto your cock. Being rough. Making it hurt.” Your cheeks are so hot, little fires licking over them and down your neck.

A hum, thoughtful. “No, sweet thing, never that. You’ll struggle with it, you’ll stretch and stretch until it feels like you’ll burst, but if I hurt you it’ll be with my hands. I take care of my things, pet. And this? This is mine.” And you scream then, because his tongue is lapping at you, it’s in you, as his thumbs peel you open and he licks into the very heart of you.

And this is good, so good; there’s still that fluttering strangeness of being considered, of being appraised, but his hands and mouth work together on your cunt, thumbs pulling gentle but firm while his tongue works you all over, sending your thoughts in a spiral that empties out into the stretch of his preparations. It’s not something you’d ever even considered a man might do for you. But he seems to enjoy it so much, breathing harshly through his nose as he seemingly tries to devour you.

He replaces thumbs with fingers, two at first with his tongue lapping between them. Then three, stroking your walls in the gentlest lover’s caress. And when he is satisfied, when three fingers slip and slide through you with ease and you’re gasping, it’s “you’re ready, pet. Up you go.”

And there you are, bracing your hands on his thick thighs. He strokes a hand down your spine on the way to close a hand around his cock, which if anything is even harder after all his preparation, already pearling with precome. He brushes the head through your folds, and with the barest twitch of his hips, he slips inside. It’s thick, so much, and all at once. The stretch is tremendous even now, even with all his preparation. He pulls you down by the hips, slow and inescapable, until he is fully seated and you’re gasping with the sheer size of him, with all the sounds you try to hold back but he catches them anyway. “Pet. If I wanted you quiet I’d gag you. Scream and cry all you want, it’ll end the same either way. I’ll fill you up til my come is oozing out around my cock, sweet thing, and you will stay there to warm me until I’m ready to have you again.”

Like this, he’s able to have complete control. With the way your thighs are spread open and draped across his legs, you have no leverage. It’s all you can do just to hold on, clutching at the arm barred across your belly. And you are soaking his thighs, oh you filthy little thing. And your cries rise above the other sounds of the room, above the soft scrape of chains and the creak of the ship as it rocks gently in the night. Each oh and please and I need drive him harder; he lifts you with all the force behind his hips and thighs. He buries his face in the side of your neck, teeth a gentle scrape, his free hand coming down to circle fingers around your pearl just right. He draws slickness from where he has you pinned on his cock, groaning at the feel of you stretched so tight around him, look at that, you take my cock like you were made for it and as your cries echo louder he pulls you closer against him, fucks into you harder, until he hears what he wants, hears that

“Please Sir, please. Let me come, I need—“

And he can hear it in your cries, can feel it in the way you ripple around him. Just a little push is all you need, just a little

“Now.”

And if you were racing to the finish, he was holding back by his fingernails because as you clench around him he pulls you down somehow farther onto his cock, fucks up so deeply into you it feels as though he’s hitting in your throat; he lets go with a roar and his teeth bite bruise-deep into the side of your neck. It’s enough to drive reason from your mind, to send you drifting in a haze of sensation. Everything falls away except the feel of his last twitching half-thrusts inside you and the softest, almost reverent words whispered into the side of your neck.

“Oh pet. So good, so perfect. But it isn’t over, sweetheart. Rest a moment, gather your strength. I still have so much I want to do to you tonight.” And in time, when you feel him start to twitch and swell inside you once more, he does. He shows you everything.

#august walker #my fic #mission impossible #mission: impossible fic #mission: impossible fallout #august walker x reader #august walker x you

[orbitariums]

aftermath | steve rogers

request: "oneshot where steve fucking obliterates us and doesn't realize it until after sex.”

note: oo i love this request haha i saw it and i was like i’m at your service. rough steve is hot and also cute!!!

warnings: rough sex, smut, nsfw, creampie, slight pain after sex *the good kind*

word count: 1.6k

    Steve was a generally calm person, and his calm demeanor translated into your sex life with him. That wasn't a problem for either of you though, he was more than intuitive when it came to your needs. Satisfying you came naturally to him. That was why it was no surprise you were approaching a fourth orgasm while Steve's hips rolled into you with ease. The real surprise was how rough he was being. 

     You hadn't expected it from Steve and had never seen this kind of energy from him before. It was almost feral, the way he loomed over you, how hard his hips snapped into you, his eyes void except for that intense glare of lust and burning want. You could hardly focus on anything but the intense pleasure you were feeling. It was like your entire brain had gone to mush. You'd felt amazing feelings with Steve before, but none like this.

    "You like that?" Steve grunted in response to a high pitched moan that had slipped out of your trembling lips.

    Your whole body was in overdrive because of how hard he was fucking you, because of how good it felt, you couldn't control the incoherent noises that came out of you. Your hair was askew on your face, your bottom lip tugged into your mouth.

    "Yes, baby," you babbled. "You're fucking me so good."

    Steve nearly growled, looking down and pressing his forehead against yours, digging his elbows into the mattress on either side of you. His strong, toned body brushed against your own naked body each time he pushed himself inside of you, and you could feel him straining to keep up, to hold off his own orgasm so he could chase your fourth one. 

     He had made you come twice during foreplay, once during intercourse and now he was going for another one. Luckily for you, like him you had a quick recovery period, just the benefit of having superhuman abilities. Still, despite those abilities, Steve was fucking you - hard, and this was not something you were nearly as likely to recover from quickly.

    "Fuck," he choked out, his jaw ticking, the veins in his forehead surging as he felt himself drawing closer as well. His breathing in your ear, ragged and heavy and unhinged, only made you more aroused. You felt yourself clench around him, and he hummed in approval. "That's it, baby. I want you to come all over my cock for me, again."

    You moaned, pouting gently because feeling him so deep inside of you was evoking more than just strong physical feelings. You felt his hands all over your body, tweaking your nipple, and leading up further, until one of his hands teased at your neck.

    "Can you do that for me?" he asked, in a gentle, inquiring voice that did not at all match the rough, careless manner in which he was fucking you.

    As he asked this question, his hand wrapped fully around your neck, enough so that you could feel it in all the right places, though still leaving room for you to breathe. He was being rough - not stupid. His hand around your neck though, was what brought you to your orgasm - feeling the hard skin and the strength of his muscular hand around your neck while his cock slammed in and out of you from below.

    "Y-yes," you choked out, bucking your hips up to meet Steve's own. You moaned in shock and pleasure - you didn't think he could be any deeper inside of you. He was taking so much control, not worrying about if he was doing too much, which was why he generally held back most of the time. You practically spasmed, your legs twitching as you wrapped them around his torso and his back. "Fuck, Steve! I'm coming, baby, shit."

    "That's it, that's a good girl," Steve praised you, bringing one hand down to your clit to bring you to that finish line. You almost screamed at the added stimulant, and nearly blacked out from the shock of the orgasm. After you had came you were a blubbery, moaning mess, babbling on and on about how good it was and how good you would be for him. You had never come so hard, and it was your fourth orgasm of the night. It took a lot of work, and then again he made it all seem so easy.

    Now it was time for Steve to take advantage of his pleasure, after working you up so many times. He'd been holding back his release, but your orgasm set him off. He was burying himself into you without pause, fucking you into oblivion now, groaning and moaning above you. He was using you, and you surely didn't mind. Steve was unhinged, his beard scratching your sweat-glazed skin as he buried his face into your neck, scrunching his eyes shut. All you could hear were his deep moans in your ear, as if he were desperate for release, slamming into you harder and faster by the minute to bring himself to liberation.

    The room was filled with your arousal, the sounds of skin slapping against skin, his hips bucking into you, both your voices as he finally came, releasing his hot and big load inside of you, more than either of you had expected. You even moaned satisfactorily just at the feeling of how much there was, how much he was filling you up. You liked being filled by him, and he knew that, which was why he stayed buried deep inside of you long after he finished, your two bodies melded together, sweaty and panting and breathing heavily.

    When Steve finally pulled out, slowly and graciously, his arm outstretched over your head as he held onto the bedpost (which you were undoubtedly slamming into while he thrusted into you), he hummed with approval. You were too spaced out to even look, instead choosing to focus on the veiny arm that was above you and bulging with muscle.

    "Look at that," Steve crooned, his fingers lightly tracing along your entrance, which was stuffed with his cum.

    Steve, true to his nature, placed two fingers inside of you, curving them slightly and fucking them in and out of you until his cum started sliding out from you and onto the bed sheets, then pulling his fingers out of you with a satisfying glide. You whimpered at the slight twinge of pain as he placed his fingers inside of you, because of the aftermath of the rough penetration. It was a good pain, though. His head perked up at the sound of your whimper, and he seemed to have returned to normal Steve state, not as rough and careless as he had been just minutes before.    

    He seemed alert, curious,

    "What's that, kitten?"

    You blushed, smiling at the nickname, and suddenly became very shy. You had essentially became a hot blob when Steve was drilling in and out of you, not how you usually were. You imagined you looked very silly. Then again, Steve was different from how he usually was, and he hardly seemed to realize it. You brushed your legs (which were quite sore, as was your core) together, hiding your bare flesh from Steve, playfully.

    "Nothing," you smiled, and Steve smirked up at you, not sure what you were playing at, and gently pushed your legs apart again so he could see you.

    "There you go, beautiful," he commented, eyes focused on one thing and one thing only, and then his lips, as he brought a gentle kiss to your clit, as a means of calming you down, getting you to talk. "You okay?"

     You grunted, running your fingers through Steve's hair,

    "Mm hm. Little sore."

    You tried to sit up, but felt another pleasantly painful twinge as you repositioned yourself against the pillow. You tried to hide that you were breathing heavier.

      "Okay, maybe a lot sore," you chuckled, and Steve immediately began to coddle you, asking all kinds of questions.

    "Are you okay? Was I too rough with you, baby? Do you need anything? Oh god, did I hurt you? I forget I'm still stronger than you sometimes, even though you're-"

    You just laughed it off, kissing his cheek as he cuddled next to you, holding him while he held you.

    "No, Steve. You didn't hurt me, and I'm fine. You were rougher than usual though, that's for sure."

    Steve raised his brows,

     "Really? I hardly noticed."

You scoffed, laughing, and shook your head playfully at him,

    "Hard to believe. But I loved it."

     "I'm sorry, YN," he said, and genuinely sounded guilty. "I don't wanna hurt you, YN, you need to tell me if I'm hurting you. I try not to forget how much stronger than you I am, but I guess this is one of those times, huh? I'm sorry, I guess I was just... releasing unaddressed stress. But I shouldn't use you for that."

    "Steve, calm down! I told you, I liked it," you said, shoving him. "It was a good kind of rough, a good kind of sore." You turned to face him, caressing his beard with your palm, your voice lower and quieter. "I like you being gentle during sex. But you should fuck me like this more often."

    If that didn't make Steve want to go again, and harder, he didn't know what would. And after your final round of the day, Steve made sure to take good care of you, running a bubble bath and declaring his love for you. And despite his rough nature during sex, he was still very gentle in the aftermath.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #reader insert #marvel #marvel smut #marvel imagine #captain america #oneshot #smut #captain america smut #orbitariums

[whenimaunicorn]

The Blaster

The Mandalorian x female Reader

Notes: Explicit like whoa. gun play, anal play, spanking/slapping, safeword use, and if you can get through those heavy kinks there’s a reward at the end. Based on a combination of a few anonymous smut requests for the above elements, hope I did you all proud. Big Dick headcanon is in full effect in this one. Gif used with permission from @underbetelgeuse 

Can be read as a continuation of either The Split or Training Exercise, or it can stand on its own. Whatever you’d like to imagine, darlings. Also I hope I got the layout of the Razor Crest right. This is how I remember it.

You’re doing it again. Somehow when you’re a guest on Mando’s ship, you always find yourself opening up his gun cabinet and gazing at the glory that is his arsenal. The carefully mounted collection of blasters, rifles, and other deadly weapons is as impressive as any arms dealer’s. Better, really, because you know each one of these has been used. Coldly, mercilessly, probably recently. And, when each one’s job was done, cleaned meticulously, lovingly oiled up, and placed precisely in its home again. Something about this cabinet encapsulates everything about what draws you to this man.

“I know that look.”

You suppress any sign of surprise at Mando’s appearance over your shoulder. His cape swirls at the back of your legs, his modulated voice heavy with that maddening pitch that is somehow both unassuming and supremely confident. You glance at him, then back to the guns, and betray yourself when your tongue darts out to lick your lips. “What do you mean?”

Instead of answering you, he reaches across your personal space and runs one leather-bound finger along the stock of something that’s too short to be a rifle and too long to be a blaster. “I used this one to squeeze a quarry out of some cave he tried to hole up in on Galor Six. Once he saw what it could do to the rocks he thought were giving him cover…” Mando’s armored thigh brushes just below the curve of your ass before he pulls his arm back.

His bulk fills up the right side of your vision, but you keep your eyes locked on the guns.

He reaches for another weapon, this time a long rifle mounted vertically along the side. As he does, his other hand slides up your spine and comes to rest at the back of your neck. “I kept this one from a quarry, who thought they could get the drop on me first.” His fingers grip firmly, turning your head slightly more squarely toward the weapon in question.

Your body thrums like he’s just pushed the magic button. In truth, he has, and he knows he has. Submissive-mode initiated.

“Actually at first, they did,” he admits evenly. And that’s one of the things you love about him too, his absolute lack of arrogance, like he knows his own measure precisely. Easy to put your trust fully into a man like that. “I had no idea a quarry like that one could have a weapon with such range. Didn’t save them, though. I survived that mistake, and now this one right here,” he pats the rifle like a favored dog, “helps me make sure others don’t.”

He is boasting a little, isn’t he. Which isn’t like him. Your skin prickles as you realize he has to be doing it for your benefit, because he’s guessed why you stare at his arsenal the way you do.

He pulls you a little closer with that hand behind your neck, and leans his visor in. His voice drops low. “Which one is your favorite.”

His collection is extensive. It includes a number of rare pieces you’d even love to get your hands on for yourself. But there’s no denying which one thrills you the most, the one that makes your heart pound with a strange intensity when you look at it too long. His augmented blaster is a simple thing, really, a classic design you could see anywhere in the Outer Rim, save for a few modifications that are his own personal touches. Save for the fact that it’s his. Your gaze lands on the weapon that usually sits at Mando’s hip whenever he goes out, the sidearm you’ve seen strike terror into quarry after quarry, pressed to a temple or held unwavering between two wide eyes.

Your hand goes up, fingers stretching tentatively toward where it hangs.

Mando’s grunt sounds satisfied, and more than a little amused. He slaps your hand away with an air of lazy command and lifts it up himself. “Good choice,” he hums. “This is my favorite, too.” His voice stays low, like you’re sharing a secret. He puts a little pressure on your neck, turning you closer to facing him as he holds it up for you to admire. The barrel is elegant, tapered, perfectly counterbalancing the boxy chamber in front of his grip. He tilts his head, so close now to your face. “Does it make you feel something, to see this gun in my hand?”

It’s like your stomach opens up and bottoms out in your cunt. Sinking, primal fear meets aching, overriding arousal, that’s what the sight of a deadly weapon wrapped in the Mandalorian’s competent fingers does to you. But you aren’t about to tell it to him like that. You nod, dreamily, and lick your slack, parted lips. Sub-mode tends to make it harder to talk.

He waves the blaster slowly to the left, and then the right. You realize a bit late that he’s watching how your eyes track the weapon. You probably look like an idiot, like every spineless quarry he’s ever had. The thumb at your neck slides tenderly up and down. Then he presses the cool metal of the blaster along the side of your face.

You break out into shivers. Mando holds you steady, allowing you to crumple a little toward him, to clutch at his bicep just beneath his pauldron.

“Is this something that you like?” The question is almost a whisper, but there’s a curl of pleasure behind it. Whatever he thinks you might be into, he thinks he’s into it too.

“Mhmm,” your voice breaks on a little wail of an affirmative noise.

“You wanna play like this?” There’s more strength in his voice now. He slides that barrel down in front of your ear, curling it around under your jaw. “Want to feel what it’s like to be at the other end of the blaster? Have all your options taken away?”

You’ve done scenes with him almost this intense before, but wow, this is just taking it to a whole different level. You have your safewords in place. You know how to stop him if it gets to be too much. Because there’s roleplay, and then there’s a live weapon being pointed at your face, and one of those is definitely more real. But this surging feeling that’s almost making you feel lightheaded… you definitely want more of this. “Yes, Sir,” you force your mouth to say. Consent has to be clear or he won’t press on, you’ve learned that about him already.

“Then strip.”

He keeps the pressure of that long-barreled blaster tight under your chin as you struggle as quick as you can out of your clothes.

Mando reaches out with jerky movements of his other hand to expedite the process, pulling at your sleeves, playing the impatient thug to a T. “Let me see what you’ve been hiding from me under there.”

Your body feels hot and cold at the same time once all your skin is exposed under the yellowish glow emanating from the weapons rack. Your pussy is already swollen and aching with need; this was something you weren’t sure you were ever going to work up the nerve to ask him for and yet here he is, clocking you for a freak with a gun kink after barely a glance at what you were doing down here.

His helmet inclines, looking you up and down. “That was too easy, you little slut.” The cold barrel twists against your throat as he changes grips, bringing his own body closer. “What else are you going to let me do to you?” The blaster digs into the bottom of your jaw. “Hold still, and be extremely quiet. It’ll be like, a little slut test. I’m going to play with you for a while, and I don’t want to hear a single moan. Not. One. Peep.”

You squeeze your mouth shut, gritting your teeth to remind yourself because you already want to make sounds for him. He palms one of your breasts, a scooping squeeze that tapers down to a long tug at your nipple just how he knows you like it. You swallow back an encouraging moan, then resort to holding your breath as he repeats the motion a few more times, rolling your beaded nipple faster and faster. When he gives the same to the other side, tugging a little bit harder, you reach up out of habit to steady yourself against his solid torso.

“Hands to yourself,” he snarls. Then he’s crowding you, pushing you with one hand on your breastbone and that blaster cutting into your neck until you back up into the closed door of his bunk behind you. “Palms on the wall,” he instructs, and you spread your fingers across more cold metal as he returns his attention to your chest.

After tugging at your nipples a few more times, he actually slaps your tit. The first strike is experimental, but he sees the breath rush out of you as hot arousal swirls up in the wake of that surprise. Three more strikes come rapidly, and you try to flinch without making that tight flinching noise, the one that your throat is begging you to let loose.

“Do you like that, dirty girl?” The gun is pressing under your ear now as he swats over your breast again, the strike on your nipple making it tingle afresh. The next swat is followed by a firm tweak to the abused flesh. “Answer me.”

A moan breaks out of your mouth, plaintive and distinctively in the affirmative.

The next slap burns your cheek. “I told you to stay quiet. You just lost.”

But what do you lose? The blaster pulls back, trained now between your eyes, the barrel remaining surprisingly steady as hooks his pinky into the base of his other glove to pull it off. Your eyes rush immediately to the ceiling, trained so very well by now to never try and get a look at the Mandalorian’s skin.

You won’t hear his glove fall to the deck. Mando always tucks his gloves in close at his belt, so he can get them back on as soon as he wants his hands anywhere in front of your face again. But when he needs to get between your legs, oh, he absolutely wants his gloves off for that.

His fingers are so much harsher than usual. He’s really not pulling any punches in this game; but by now he’s certainly gathered a good sense for how much abuse you can tolerate. And this looks like another one of those nights he’s going to stretch your limits. He swipes between your folds, pressing up into your cunt with no preamble. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he comments roughly, twisting his fingers inside your opening so you can feel how easy it is. “I guess sluts just love to be treated like this.” He presses the blaster into your cheek, just as two fingers are pressing their way up inside you. You arch back against the wall for balance. “Is it this?” He wiggles the barrel against your cheekbone. “Is this what’s turned you into such a sloppy mess?”

He starts to slide the gun down the front of your body, making your belly tingle and freeze even as your breasts are still prickling hot from the way he was hitting them.

“Answer me.”

Fuck. He slapped you in the face for speaking last time. Is the silence rule still in effect? For some reason Mando seems to particularly relish putting you in this kind of double bind. His thumb is circling your clit so firm and slow, the press of the blaster is making you pull your bellybutton toward your spine, and he’s waiting, waiting for you to respond. “Yes.”

He curls his fingers out of you and then spanks your clit. One quick, precise reprimand. Your legs try to close reflexively but his armor-plated thigh is in the way. “Yes, what.” He shoves your legs open wider. “Tell me exactly what’s turning you on so badly right now.”

“You, Sir,” you try.

He spanks your clit again, sending electric shivers through your whole body. “Try again.”

Of course he’s going to make you say it. He always wants you to say it, just how kinky you really are. “You and your fucking blaster, Sir.”

Mando leans in, pressing the cold metal further down your body. “My fucking blaster?” he repeats. “Now there’s an idea.”

He crowds you into the wall, helmet angled down so he can watch what he’s doing to you. Meanwhile, you can’t do the same, since his glove is off. You fix your eyes obediently on the ceiling while your attention goes internal. You feel that cold, solid barrel sinking across your belly, then it’s twisting to push your thighs further apart.

“You like it so much, I want you to ride it.”

Stars, he’s going to be the death of you. You feel yourself getting wetter at the suggestion alone. But when the solid metal presses against your clit, so unyielding, squared edges and all, you can’t stop yourself from trying to recoil.

“Uh uh,” Mando chides, gripping your hip to hold you in place. “You got yourself into this, there’s no trying to wriggle out of it now.”

It just feels so wrong. He rocks that barrel over your most sensitive bits and it’s cold and strange and he’s got you panting. You press your palms against the bulkhead and try to keep yourself still and open for him, and yes you did ask for this you suppose, but it’s humiliating and you weren’t sure he would go this far and oh fuck is he trying to stick it inside you??

Cool beskar slides against your cheek. With your eyes squeezed shut you didn’t realize his head was so close. His voice rumbles low through the vocoder: “I want it to smell like you.” The barrel twists in your entrance, but thankfully he doesn’t try to force it very far. “Come on now, dirty girl, ride it for me.”

You whimper and start to move your hips. It’s not much, you’re too afraid of what more vigorous movements might do, but surely Mando understands that, surely he appreciates that you’re trying for him, pushing through your hesitation as you rub yourself deeper onto the end of his gun.

He groans at the sight of your compliance, a deep, raw sound that sounds like some kind of control in him is snapping. Adrenaline shocks through you at that sound, because you’re so vulnerable right now, and he could so easily hurt you if he forgets himself…

Mando removes the gun with another growl, grabbing at your shoulder and spinning you around with a force that leaves you breathless. He slams your chest into the wall like you’re nothing and then the blaster is pressing into your temple.

“Arch your back.”

You press your bottom out as far as you can, presenting yourself to him like an animal, excited for what you think is coming next. Mando’s body crowds your hips, his hand running greedily over your ass, swiping up your drenched cunt.

“I’m thinking about fucking you right now. But, there’s one more thing—” his voice is tight and he actually trips over his words, “—one more thing you never let me do.” The blaster presses heavier into the side of your face. His finger keeps sliding up your slit, past your entrance. “But now that I’ve got you completely helpless like this…” You tense as he rocks that fingertip against your other, tighter hole.

It’s not that you hadn’t talked about this before. You’re curious, intrigued even, but you haven’t yet figured out how to relax certain muscles and earlier attempts at anal sex have proved unsuccessful. The deal between you and Mando so far as been that you’re willing to try, and that he’s allowed to start working you up to it, when the moment seems right. He must have judged you to be so hot and bothered right now that maybe it would finally work.

The pressure does feel good, the tingling strangeness of being touched right there playing perfectly into the adrenaline-laced haze he’s already got you in. The gun at your head makes you feel so vulnerable, so open and helpless that your body might as well not resist anything anymore. The touch of his finger swirling at your asshole is so dirty. “You going to let me in here?”

It’s so reassuring, the way he makes sure you’re still giving consent, without quite breaking the mood of the scene, either. You nod, though when you try to accompany it with a vocalized “uh huh” the sound comes out more like an embarrassed little wail.

“You can be ashamed,” Mando croons, answering your tone. “You know you’re a dirty girl, letting me do such dirty things.” He slides the blaster along your cheek. “Not that you really have a choice.” Somehow being reminded that a slip of his trigger finger would blow your head off just makes your arousal spin out wildly.  “You’re just a thing to be used right now.” The pressure against your anus is deepening, starting to stretch you.

“You think you don’t deserve this?” he says the first time you flinch. “You did this to yourself. Things like this always happen to pretty little creatures like you. Ones the sneak around on ships, and poke around in places they don’t belong. You just had to get a look at my guns. Now look where it got you.” He pulls back a little, just to push back in again, making you realize how far your body has already allowed him in. “Now you’re gonna give it all up to me. Even this last bit of resistance. Every part of you is mine to use, and you’re going to take it.” His finger pushes in deeper, stabbing a little to punctuate his words. “Every. Last. Bit.”

And you try to follow that command. You really do. Helpless noises start to spill out of your mouth. How could they not when that dirty, secret stretch starts to burn, when the dark pleasure of one finger up your butt turns to the thought-blurring invasion of two, or maybe three, it’s hard to keep track when he’s hurting you like this. Fuck, you want to be good, you want to give this man everything you have, but it kriffing hurts.

Your safeword explodes past your lips, and the Mandalorian’s fingers instantly still. “I’m going to take my fingers out slow,” he says, voice clear and soothing, without a hint of reproach. “You did so good.”

“I’m sorry,” you can’t help but say, sighing in relief as the pressure abates, though you’re a little bit sad to feel him go, and disappointed in yourself for failing again.

“I’m proud of you,” he counters. “You did so good for me.” He stays close, doesn’t move anything but the bare hand that’s now soothing little circles over your bum. “Do we need to stop everything, or was it just too much in your ass?”

You take a minute to assess yourself. You’re shaking now, feeling pretty blown-out after hitting that limit, but the arousal’s not gone. “Don’t stop. I’ll go crazy if you don’t fuck me right now.” You arch your back deep with your forearms against the wall, proving your eagerness.

His answering chuckle creates a weird static in the vocoder. “I think I would, too. The way you tried so hard for me, you precious thing.” He pushes his hips against you, letting you feel what you’ve done to him. “Made me so hard I almost blew out these pants.”

“Then fuck, what are you waiting for.”

He wipes his fingers on a sanitizer, then his belt clatters to the floor. “Maybe, for you to shut the fuck up.” His tone is a little wry and a little scary, signaling the transition back into the scene. “While I appreciate the enthusiasm,” he presses the barrel of his blaster tighter against your cheek, “I don’t like that tone.” His bare hand collides with your ass. “You want to fucking try that again, slut?”

You shiver in appreciation, feeling yourself fall back into the headspace you’d been enjoying since he caught you down here, now that the necessary check-in is done. “Mm… please?”

He spanks you again, hard and sharp, not worrying about warming you up in the slightest. “You can do better than that.”

“Please, please fuck me.”

Another swat. “Beg for it. I’ve got a gun to your head, I can do whatever I want, but I still want you to beg. Beg for my cock. Beg me to hurt you.”

Fuck. As if you haven’t been through enough. “I need it,” you try. “Need your big cock inside me, so fucking bad.”

“Yes you do.” He slaps your ass one more time and then you feel him fumbling with his pants. Fucking finally. “And now that I know how much pain you can take, I’m going to fuck you how I really want. Cuz I think that’s what you want too, dirty little slut, sneaking down here to steal a look at my own, private, weapon collection; you want to get punished with this cock.”

“Fuck, yes,” you plead as he grabs your hip, lining you up, as you feel the girth of him pressing against your delicate bits, “I’ve been bad and I need to be put in my place.”

“Oh, you will be,” he promises, and then he’s driving himself into you, the sudden stretch making your eyes roll up in your head. Sometimes you tell yourself you’re used to Mando’s endowment, but it’s all lies. No one could ever be used to this, the solid plunge of something too wide to ever be comfortable, especially when he sinks it in so hard and so fast that you feel the pressure all the way up till it forces your tongue out of your mouth.

He pounds away at you, wickedly deep just as promised. It doesn’t matter how worked up he gets you, the stretch is always overwhelming, adding a spice to the pleasure that’s so tantalizing that you think you’ve probably become addicted to it. You realize it’s probably foolish of you two to think that he will ever fit this massive thing in your ass, especially not for him to fuck how he wants, wild and deep like this, but stars, is that thought hot anyway.

You brace yourself against the wall with both your forearms and try to remain conscious under the onslaught. “Arch your back,” Mando barks, pushing at your hips, catching you halfway recoiling, trying to hold the deepest part of you back. His boot taps at your ankle. “Feet wider.”

Fucker really is using this scene to get everything his way. The blaster follows your head as you sink into the required position, letting him reach the very end of you. His fat head is bumping against things that are less than comfortable, but you lay your cheek against the wall and just take it for him. Now your gaze is drifting over the rest of his weapon collection; he’s fucking you mercilessly right in front of it. Reminding you how you got yourself into this. And that he really is gonna try to give you everything you want. As strange or as dark as it turns out to be.

You’re almost surprised when he comes inside you, stuttering and grunting and wringing you over himself until the last tiny bit of his pleasure is satisfied. Often he likes to paint your body with the evidence of his conquest. But it’s so nice to hold him all the way through the end. Maybe he did that for you, too.

The blaster goes back in its holster before Mando begins to pull out. He’s large even when he’s deflating and it’s an interesting sensory experience for both of you every time he goes to dislodge himself after the deed is done. You’re both breathing heavy. Mando’s arm goes around your middle like all he wants to do is cuddle you right here, armor and all, leaning against the wall. “So good,” his modulated voice murmurs between panting breaths, his helmet pressed into your back. “You did so good for me.”

“And I feel like you did all that for me,” you answer softly. “Thank you.”

A deep sound rumbles over the vocoder. “All for you? I was the only one that came, so that can’t be right.” He starts peeling you off the wall. “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.”

There’s an edge to his tone that makes you think maybe the sexy times might not quite be finished. The Mandalorian’s never been a man to leave a job half done, after all.

He reaches past you to open the door he’s been fucking you up against. His bunk has become more cozy than when you first saw it; there’s a real mattress on the frame now, and pillows and blankets. More things he’s done just for you. With gentle hands he ushers your naked body forward to get in his bed. “Get comfortable. I’ll be right behind you.”

You pull a warm blanket most of the way over you as you lie on your back. Now that the adrenaline-laced scene is done, your abused body is starting to shiver. But you don’t settle in completely, still pretty sure that it’s not quite time to pass out yet.

When you look back up at the Mandalorian, standing at the foot of the bed, your breath catches.  He’s removing most of his armor plates, hanging each one carefully on the walls on either side of this tiny little room. Your face starts to tingle. This is a rarity in the time that you have known him. He only ever removes what he absolutely has to in your presence.

But those times he’s held you in his arms, he has to have felt you seeking more contact, your roving hands finding out all the little places where you can touch something besides durasteel and beskar. Perhaps he’s about to give you something else he thinks you need, too.

He’s still not showing any skin when he climbs into the cot beside you. But there’s only one little layer between your bodies when he nestles in alongside you, and you can feel his heat, and the springy cushion of his muscles as he draws you to rest your back against his chest. His arms wrap tight around you, pulling you in so close that you can feel him breath. Stars, you can even detect his heartbeat.

It’s a solace you hadn’t even dared to let yourself crave, to be wrapped in the softened reality of this man. Even dreamier when it comes as a reward, after letting him work you over so good outside this little room. You feel your body rhythms entraining to his and try to think about nothing else at all.

You almost forget the idea that he might yet make you come, now that you’re actually here, drifting in the sanctuary of his arms. Then Mando wraps his cloak over both of you, and you feel him removing his gloves.

He worships your body with his palms, especially those places that he was particularly cruel to before. He coaxes your nipples soft and sweet, and caresses your ass like it’s a work of art. You’re totally relaxed, completely comfortable, and surrounded by his smells here in his bunk: metallic, earthy, and some unidentifiable musk that must be a hint of the man that lies beneath it all. You wonder if the sheets you lie on shelter his naked flesh when you’re not around. You wonder… you’re starting to wonder too much. Just enjoy it. Relax in the intimacy he’s willing to give, the privilege that it is that he would be willing to take off his armor for you, even if he can’t show you his skin.

Strong hands pull your top leg up, resting it against his own hips so that his fingers have room to run through your treasures between. “I love your pussy,” Mando says, opening you, coaxing you to bloom with the confidence that comes of repeated experience. You two have been doing this for a while now. Long enough to earn this next level of trust, it seems.

He works you just how you like it, as you arch and sigh against him, reaching back to hold his neck, your fingers barely contacting the base of his head just under his helmet. It’s not long before he’s got your leg twitching and your blood singing. No teasing now, no withholding, just pure, deserved satisfaction.

“Come for me,” he urges, “let me hear how happy I make you.”

And fuck, that does it right there, the loving tone in the same voice that knows how to degrade you when you want it that way, and the baring of some glimpse that you mean more to him than a series of mind-blowing fucks. It pushes you right over the edge into a wailing orgasm that stretches on and on under the expert coaxing of the Mandalorian’s fingers.

The pleasure suffuses you, makes you feel light as a feather, yet unable to move, safe in the circle of his arms. Stars, you can feel him breathing. You never want this moment to end. You realize you’re half-asleep when Mando’s cock rubs up against your behind. “I have to have you again,” he rumbles, his arms clutching at your slackening body. “You don’t have to move, can I…?”

Dreamily, you spit into your fingers and make sure your cunt is ready to take just a little more abuse. Then you present your hips to him.

His exhale is long and grateful as he sinks home one more time. “You’re just—” he whispers behind you, thrusting in lazy and long, “so… perfect.” His strokes send wave after wave of warmth through your body, somehow still relaxing, somehow just letting every last thing in you unwind.

He doesn’t move when he’s done. For once, neither of you say anything self-conscious, or flippant, no jokes meant to create distance or push the intimacy away. He stays, and you stay, and your limbs are all tangled together when you both fall asleep.

More Mando Smut

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#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #dom!Mando #mando smut

[factual-fantasy]

I got 25 asks that took me WAY too long to reply to! :}

I have two top favorite episodes, the cone snail episode and the beluga whales episode.

When it comes to my favorite part of both episodes..?

..Not happy parts...

I have absolutely no idea what you just suggested.

(Referring to this post)

Thank you! That was the intention. :} I was worried that their faces all looked weird..

You want to learn more? Man.. maybe I should post that headcannon draft..

Yeah haha, this blog has taken quite the U-turn hasn’t it? I’m just glad everyone seems okay with it so far. <:} I’m excited for season 5 also! I hope it comes out soon! :D

THANK YOU, I WILL CHERISH THIS LOVE YOU HAVE GIVEN ME FOREVER

Yes and no.

Does he think of his crew as children? Absolutely not. They are all fully grown, intelligent and capable adults, and he darn well treats them like it.

But you bet that if one of them is in danger or is frightened, he’s dropping everything he’s doing and rushing to their aid as if they’re his cub that just wondered out onto the highway.

ME TOO! I always felt like he had this fatherly vibe to him with some professionalism sprinkled on top. Like he’s always looking out for his team because he cares for them and worries about them, but its kind of disguised as him just doing his job as the Captain.

I plan to draw more Protective Barnacles because its my jam, so don’t worry! That side of you will have some more fuel soon XD. And thank you for all the compliments! :}

Daww thank you, it twaz nothin. I’m just glad that people want to see my art.

Well, taking everyone into consideration, the tallest is Captain Barnacles, and the shortest is Tomminow. (This little guy 👇)

The Vegimals aside though? Peso is the shortest. 

(And thank you! I’m glad :})

Honestly? Awful. I feel like absolute garbage, I just hope this will all finally go away soon.

Not really no, and no thanks on the cookies, I shouldn’t eat anything until I get super hungry because everything gives me stomachaches.. But a hug would sure be nice right about now.

I can give you a link to their wiki pages if that’ll help, I’m not really good with my words and you can learn everything you need to know about them there. <:}

Captain Barnacles (The polar bear guy)

Kwazii (The orange pirate cat guy)

Peso (The bby Penguin doktor)

Shellington (Tall Otter boi)

Dashi (Doge girl with skirt)

Professor Inkling (Fancy squik)

Tweak (Green bunny country gal chick)

The Vegimals (Little veggie dudes)

All the Gups (Metal fishes)

The Octopod (Momma metal squik)

Whos the youngest Octonaut? Well, if we’re not including the Vegimals, I’d say its probably Peso. And the oldest is most likely Professor Inkling.

Does anyone have claustrophobia? Yes! Captain Barnacles canonically does. He got trapped in a deep hole in some icy caves as a cub, since then he’s been afraid of tight and closed in spaces. I have extended on that fact and thought of many different scenarios relating to the aftermath of the Octonauts movie, but you know.. still not confident in all this Octonauts stuff so I haven’t posted my headcannons yet. <:/

Novelas translated into English means Soap Opera.

You think so? I feel like that’s not Kwazii’s thing, he’d probably like horror movies and action filled movies. But Peso probably would like them not gonna lie, him and Dashi would probably watch them together.

Well, in my draft post I’ve got two headcannons for her so far.

Tweak likes sleeping in the launch bay for the #1 reason that she can hear the water sloshing around in the bay. Which mimics the sound the water in the swamp used to make when she lived there with her Dad.

Tweak gets bad migraines when she’s sick, so the other Octonauts have to do a lot to accommodate her. Because the beds in the med bay aren’t that soft, she prefers to sleep in her room when she’s sick. But then the usually comforting sounds of the water in the launch bay become pain inducing. So the launch bay is emptied of all its water, the lights are shut off and, unless its an emergency, no one is allowed in the launch bay until she recovers. 

I looked it up, and its true.

KWAZII WAS A GIRL IN THE BOOKS?? THEN WHY IS HE A BOY IN THE SHOW?? WHY DID THEY CHANGE THAT?? WH??? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like this Kwazii more than I would any other version of him, but still, WHY’D THEY CHANGE THAT?? IM GLAD THEY DID BUT WHY??

Hmm.. let me think...

Captain Barnacles most likely doesn’t ever have uninterrupted free time, and even when he does, he probably still prefers to be up in HQ where anyone can find him if they need him. But lets say for the sake of it that he has some free time and he takes it. He’d probably either want to play his accordion, or want to read a book.

I feel like there’s a lot of different things Kwazii likes to do in his spare time, but goofing around in the Gup-B is probably his favorite.

Peso probably likes to do puzzles and play his xylophone.

Dashi probably reads books while listening to music. How she does both of these things at the same time I have no idea.

Tweak probably plays video games.

Professor Inkling and Shellington both probably read books in their free time.

I’m not too sure what the Vegimals would do in their free time though..

Oh yes, indeed it does. 

Before becoming the Captain of the Octonauts, Barnacles had to ask himself,  “Am I really ready to be their leader?” Can he handle managing a team of that size? Can he react to situations fast enough and make the right choices? He thought it through and believed that yes. He was ready.

But he wasn’t. He wasn't prepared for that gut wrenching anxiety when one crew member goes missing. He wasn't prepared for the crippling heat that most everywhere else has compared to his home. He wasn't prepared to become so attached to his crew that the thought of something happening to them keeps him awake for nights in a row. He wasn’t prepared for that overwhelming nausea of missing home and his sister. 

There was a lot he didn’t know. They’d all turn to him when something went wrong and ask if everything's going to be okay. He’d say “don’t worry, its all going to be okay.” but he’s just as unsure as everyone else.

Now don't get me wrong, he’s not this completely hopeless and unexperienced Captain that bit off more than he could chew, no. There’s just somethings he didn’t think about before becoming Captain of the Octonauts.

Now usually he can really keep himself composed almost always. He’s very level headed and very good at thinking his way through things, But sometimes? He just.. needs a break. He usually cant get a break because he’s the Captain and always needs to be alert, so everyone else that sees it usually tries to help.

Some crew members, like the Vegimals and Kwazii, have a habit of following the Captain around when they see that he’s tired to keep an eye on him. Others like Shellington and Dashi tend to give him space and keep things quiet for him. Some crew members, like Peso and Tweak tend to clean up around the place to take some weight off the Captains shoulders, they all help him out in some way.

Professor Inkling will sometimes find an excuse to pull him aside to have some tea with him. They’ll sit and talk for a bit but then he’s back up on his feet and back to work. This poor bear..

..hold on.. was this a drawing suggestion?

Dashi and Tweak would probably hang out in Dashi’s room and goof around. Not sure what they’d do.. maybe read, talk, play games or.. idk pillow fights? I don’t know what girls do on a girls night.

As for everyone else? I also am not sure, I don’t know what all those characters with all their clashing personalities would do on a boys night. Maybe they would all watch a movie? All attempt bake something obnoxious together? They seem like the kind of characters that would do that.

I’ve never been to a girls night or a guys night, so I don't really have much of a base to go off of.. but both groups would probably get together and do something they’d all enjoy. Guys maybe a funny movie, and the girls just talking and reading books? <:D 

For real that’d be hilarious. Imagine if their voices were deep and gruff too but they just make them sound high pitched for fun?

Dude that’d be so funny. Like Kwazii’s up to his shenanigans again blabbering on about some sea monster or what have you, and Tunip out of nowhere just goes,

“Kwazii legit stop, we all know that you’re just talking about some ordinary sea creature that pirates interpreted as a sea monster.“

The whole crew gon be like

If this game existed in their world and they all played it.....

Captain Barnacles would make it through a pacifist run and would be satisfied. He’s some kind of weirdo who doesn’t think of characters as real people and doesn’t obsess over them and cry about them. Overall he thinks the game is pretty neat, but probably not his type of game.

Kwazii would want to test his skills by attempting a genocide, but his heart of gold would get in the way and he wouldn’t be able to complete it. He’d feel terrible for killing goat mom, reset and go hard pacifist next round. Overall he thinks the game is awesome.

Peso would want to talk to every character so they’d all be included in the story. He’d go full pacifist and cry over the story and its characters. Overall 10/10 for him.

Dashi would probably cry over the game a lot and would never attempt a genocide run because the characters are now her family.

Shellington would hate the fighting parts so would delay those bits by walking around and talking to characters over and over again.

Tweak would go through a neutral run because she sometimes accidently kills weaker monsters. Overall she loves the story and its characters, 10/10 would play again.

Professor Inkling would become invested in the story I bet. Complimenting the story arcs for the characters and its creative game play. But I feel like he’d only play it once and probably wouldn’t beat it, but would have fun with it none the less.

Thank you!!!♡♡♡ Man, I never expected such a positive response to switching to Octonauts, I cant believe everyone is so excited about it! I’m so glad you like my Octonauts art, that really makes me feel better and like what I’m drawing is worth while. ɷ◡ɷ

Aww I’m glad! And oh yeah, the animals at the end were always scary. Remember the Boo the spookfish?

Boo was a cute little googly eyed fishy boi who was just so sweet and somft until the creATURE REPORT AND I-

THAT’S MY QUE TO YEET THE COMPUTER

Dawww thank you!! I tried. <:}

#octonauts #my response #octonauts headcannons #octonauts spoilers

[trashscenariihxh]

Chrollo x Fem!Reader

Yet another commission!  If you’re interested in commissioning something, please message me.  Remember, no commissions are shared without your consent, and they are all made anonymous.

You received a text from Chrollo saying he’d be in town only minutes before you ran into him.  It was late; you’d just finished closing up shop, counting the money left in the till and locking up before grabbing your coat and heading out into the autumn night.  It had stormed earlier, but now it only drizzled.  Damp leaves clung to your shoes as you walked down the slippery cobblestone street.

Had Chrollo not called your name out softly, you would have walked right by him, so preoccupied were you with keeping your umbrella from being blown inside out by a sudden gust of wind.  You stopped the instant you heard your name, turning in the direction of the voice.  Chrollo was dressed in normal clothes for once, casually leaning against the side of a building, washed in the gold of the streetlight.

“Hey!” You called, walking briskly towards him and promptly stepping into a puddle.  You cursed, closing your umbrella as you futilely shook your foot.  No point in trying to stay dry now.  “What are you doing here?”

Chrollo smiled, that sweet, darkly angelic smile of his.  “To see you, _____.  Isn’t that obvious?”

You rolled your eyes. “I meant here.  In the street.”

“Your shop was closed, it takes you twenty minutes to walk home.  I guessed I’d find you here.”  He chuckled. “It seems I was right.”

Snorting, you turned on your heel and strode off.  “Come on then, I’m going home to get out of the rain.  Stay in the street if you like.”  You noticed that he didn’t even have an umbrella on him.  Chrollo was a strange man, perhaps he enjoyed getting rained on. Sometimes you felt as though you couldn’t truly be sure of what he enjoyed.

Neither of you attempted conversation on the walk back to your apartment.  Your mood was too foul after having been made to suffer the annoyance of wet socks, and the wind rustling the dried leaves as it blew through the trees was too loud to speak over.

“You could have just waited for me here.” You spoke finally as you reached you apartment, removing your shoes and switching on the light.

“I don’t have a key.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you.”

Chrollo arched an eyebrow. “You think I’ve broken into your home?”

“Well haven’t you?”

Another cryptic smile. A flash behind his eyes. “Perhaps.”

His lips were on yours an instant later.  Chrollo might have taken great pains to appear ethereal and otherworldly, but there was something so refreshingly warm about his kisses that his humanity was undeniable.  Soft lips drifted down to your collarbone, leaving a trail of even softer kisses in their wake along your throat.

“Right to the point, huh?” You chuckled, tilting your head to the side to give him better access.

“It’s been a long time.”

Had it? You had a hard time believing that Chrollo had spent the last several months pining away for you, such thoughts were an extravagance reserved only for those in relationships with normal people.  Every time Chrollo left, you assumed that he’d either be killed or just lose interest in what you had; he’d slink through his life of shadows and remember you less and less until you became little more than a silhouette in his memory.  A favorite character in a long-forgotten book.

Whether these were prophetic musings or purely melodramatic thoughts mattered little to you now, especially since Chrollo was urgently sliding your coat off your shoulders in an attempt to undress you.

“Hey!” You protested when his hands rested on your ass and squeezed through the fabric of your dress, but you melted into him when he pulled you close and murmured “I’ve missed you” against your lips.

That was all it took. You grabbed his wrist and led him to your bedroom, blushing at the light peal of amused laughter that ensued.  You refused to be ashamed of your eagerness, so you cast a smirk over your shoulder as you began to shed your clothing.  It was much more efficient than Chrollo’s earlier fumbling.

A smile spread across your face when Chrollo stood behind you, his half-hard cock obvious when his crotch pressed against your ass.  You jumped in surprise when he began to rub against you.

“You like it?” Chrollo asked, helping you remove the last remnants of your clothes and dipping down to kiss your shoulder. “Feeling me like this?”  He swept a lock of your hair away so he could lightly suck at your neck.

You hummed in contentment, reaching back behind you to lace your fingers in his thick dark hair. He’d forgone his usual severe slicked-back hairstyle in favor of leaving his hair down, something you greatly appreciated.  Chrollo’s hands found their way to your now-exposed breasts; he palmed at them before lightly rubbing at and gently tweaking your nipples.  The more he touched you, the more excited he became; Chrollo was rocking against you, his still-clothed erection stiffening by the second.  One of his hands drifted down between your legs, his fingers beginning to stroke your clit.

“Chrollo…” His name fell from your lips in a barely audible whimper as you bucked against him, your eyes fluttering shut.  After so long, his touch was enough to transport you away from your bedroom. You were lost. Totally, gloriously lost.

“_____.” Chrollo’s voice brought you back to the present.  “Look.”

You opened your eyes, confused as to what exactly Chrollo wanted you to look at, until.  Oh.  Oh. In your earlier haste to get Chrollo into your bedroom, you’d failed to notice that you were standing almost directly in front of your full-length mirror.

“Look at me,” Chrollo ordered silkily, laughing lightly when you instinctively started to look back at him. “No.  There.”  He grabbed your chin and turned your head to face the mirror.

You’d seen yourself naked countless times, and you’d been intimate with Chrollo a comparable amount, but your cheeks burned with exhilaration and something almost like shame when you looked in the mirror.  Here you were, naked and utterly exposed, while Chrollo was more or less fully clothed.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, dropping his hand from your chin and gently wrapping his fingers around your throat.  He continued to stroke your sex; his fingers moved away from your clitoris to dip between your legs and rub against your slit.  “Keep looking at me.”  His large grey eyes locked onto yours as he slid a finger inside you.

“It’s okay,” he soothed when your breath hitched.  “You can cry out if you want to.  If you can.”  He tightened his grip on your throat.

You gasped when your air supply was suddenly partially cut off, yet you kept looking in the mirror as instructed.  Looking at him.  With one hand around your neck and the other between your legs.  It struck you then just how beautiful Chrollo was; his face, unreadable alabaster, remained supernaturally serene even as he choked you. Angelic.  Seraphic, even.

Chrollo tightened his grip again, and for an instant you couldn’t breathe.  Flashes of red and gold danced before your eyes, and just as your vision began to cloud, you came around Chrollo’s fingers.

“Lovely,” he breathed, relaxing his grip and kissing your neck again.  There was something reverentially apologetic about the way he kissed you now, his full lips ghosting over the angry red marks his fingers had made.  He withdrew his hand from between your legs.  “Get on the bed.”

A jolt of anticipation shot down your spine at the calmly given order.  You obeyed, walking over to your bed and lying down on your back, legs spread, body eagerly waiting.

Chrollo smiled softly. “No, not like that.  On your hands and knees.” You bristled at the slight note of condescension you heard in his voice but obeyed just the same.

From behind you, you heard the rustle of fabric, the clinking of a belt buckle.  For the second time that night you began to look back, and just like the first time, Chrollo stopped you.

“Don’t.”

You closed your eyes and let your head hang in frustration.  He was certainly taking his time…

Cool hands began to caress your ass, making you shudder at the long-awaited touch.  Your eyes shot open when Chrollo pulled his hand away and brought it down on your ass with an audible slap, and you moaned softly when he did it a second time.  It stung, but not unpleasantly.

Surprisingly, Chrollo offered no commentary on your reaction; he was seemingly content with drawing little moans and gasps from you with each slap.  When he was finally satisfied, he rubbed his hands soothingly over your now-sore backside before lining himself up with your entrance and sliding in.

Your eyes widened when he bottomed out; it became immediately clear that he had not bothered to get undressed, a situation that sent little tremors of delight over your skin. You felt so vulnerable like this, so used.

Chrollo, who had seemingly used up his supply of self-restraint, began to fuck you with fast, hard thrusts.  He grabbed your hips, preventing you from wriggle away from him as he drove into your repeatedly, fast and deep.  

You bit your lip as his cock hit your g-spot, your inner walls tightening around him.  Chrollo’s soft grunts and gasps were music to your ears; each sound he made caused the proverbial coil within your core to tighten. With a rush of daring, you chanced a look at Chrollo over your shoulder and barely contained a gasp when you saw him.

Chrollo’s head was thrown back, his eyes closed, lush dark lashes pressed against his cheekbones. His cheeks had taken on a light pink flush, as had his lips, which were parted in a silent “O” of pleasure.  The smallest, barely audible hint of a moan began to tinge each of Chrollo’s gasps; the picture before you was almost enough to make you come on the spot.

Chrollo’s eyes cracked open and you quickly looked away.  Too late, evidently; you received a sharp smack on your ass for your disobedience.

“I… didn’t… say you could… look- oh!” Chrollo’s last shred of self-control evaporated; he reached forward, grabbing a handful of your hair and jerking your head back as he began to relentlessly fuck into you harder than you thought possible.  Something had changed about the angle of his hips; he was no longer directly hitting your g-spot, but somewhere deeper, more sensual. You groaned as your walls spasmed around his cock as your second orgasm crashed into you.

Your clenching around his cock sent Chrollo reeling into orgasm as well; he grabbed your hips again with an almost bruising force and slammed into you, releasing deep inside you with a low grunt.

For all his exertion, Chrollo only trembled behind you for a few moments before pulling out and grabbing a tissue off the bedside table to clean himself up.  You, however, collapsed onto the bed, having been exhausted by two orgasms.

“Tired?”  Chrollo sat lightly on the foot of the bed, fully clothed again.

“What do you think?” You shut your eyes, willing your heartbeat to return to normal.

“I think you’re exhausted.”

“You’re correct.  Well done.” You sighed and propped yourself up on your elbows.  “Why are you still dressed?”

“I thought I’d take you out for dinner.”

You snorted incredulously. “Oh, now you tell me.  While I’m all fucked out and exhausted.”

“Well?”

“It’s raining.”

“You have an umbrella, if memory serves.”

“All right, fine.” You yawned and sat up, grimacing at the soreness between your legs.  It had been too long.  “Let me get cleaned up, yeah?”

“Of course.”

Feeling Chrollo’s release begin to leak from you, you hastily dashed to the bathroom.  You grabbed a towel and turned on the shower, delighting in the heat of the water.

As you stepped into the shower, eager for the water’s warmth, you heard the bathroom door creak open.  “You need something?”

You were answered with a very naked Chrollo stepping into the shower with you.  “I’ve been traveling for some time.  Perhaps I ought to get cleaned up as well.”

You grinned to yourself as you squeezed bodywash onto a washcloth. Perhaps dinner out wasn’t in the cards for tonight after all.

#smuttastic #chrollo lucilfer

[eriisaam]

Old scrapped concept of Ephrel, the dokkalfarian summoner.

Ephrel might have some tweaks done to their hair shape eventually, but otherwise, they were mostly as I hoped they'd be, especially given the context. In general, I wanted to strike more of a balance between how closely they resembled one of the possibly-generated Robinsonas in Awakening, but also have somewhat of a strong resemblance to Robin and Sparrow respectively, further going with the idea of what drew Chrom to the two (their similar looks). Otherwise, I was definitely planning on redesigning their clothes completely, where this was originally one of many ideas on open-back clothes with neutral tones to them that I'm still not entirely satisfied of.

I also did eventually want to draw their fully realized state as Spectabilis at some point too.

Character details under the cut.

---

Having been a summoner prior to Chrom and Sparrow, Ephrel was eventually succeeded (unknowingly) by Chrom, who later then became more officially succeeded by Sparrow as summoner. Having came from a world heavily tied with the Digital World, Ephrel would've originally been teleported to Zenith through Breidablik's power as their chosen. But right before they could be taken, Eitri among other forces from the Digital World all tried to intercept Breidablik at the same time, only to all simultaneously fail to retrieve the weapon, but in the process, heavily impacted Ephrel into an unstable, in-between state of existence. A part of them became a robinsona-esque being dumped into a World of Awakening, where they completely replaced Robin's role and went on to befriend and assist Chrom as their tactician. In this state, Chrom heavily bonded to, and fell in love with this version of Ephrel, whom they initially identified as 'Robin' as a name Chrom gave them in their memory-scrambled state, but would later reveal to him in private their actual name as 'Ephrel' when they had enough time to process and remember. In a desperate attempt to try to go after Ephrel in this state when their physical body became lost and distorted in their home world, and Breidablik itself displaced with them, it completely threw this World of Awakening off the rails of the original destiny laid out for Chrom, ultimately leading to Ephrel gaining forewarning of their fate to betray and kill Chrom, only for Ephrel to die to protect him instead, all while the fate of all Chrom knew were killed in ways neither could prevent, leaving Chrom as the sole survivor of his world.

Their death as a robinsona had the adverse effect of heavily corrupting what remained as a digital "echo" of their state as a robinsona (often dubbed "Mirage Robin" or "Digi-Grima"), which led to a rogue ghost of this robinsona-Ephrel wandering lost, confused, and in an unstable state of constantly seeking Chrom, but not having the "programming" to retain full self-awareness of themself or their surroundings (there's a few times they even technically found Chrom, but were so broken they couldn't realize and process it). Their fragile mental state when forcefully mashing the pieces of both Ephrel's actual persona, yet Robin's scripted fate as Grima's vessel, led to a very unstable "Grima" whose obsession heavily betrays the actual Grima, only wishing to seek Chrom and regain his love and approval again. At the same time, the actual Ephrel was restabilized, and Breidablik resurfaced once more, but in lingering mental corruption from their split displacement, Ephrel, in a psychotic break, completely disregarded their role as summoner or an ally of Zenith in favor of returning home in a near daze, only wishing to seek Chrom out at both lingering remains of the damaged state of digi-Grima as well as their confused, mental exhaustion from the sudden split. In their attempt to try and fail to get back to Chrom, the end result let to catastrophic damage in bursting Breidablik's power, sending the weapon to Chrom and displacing him into Zenith, but ultimately killing Ephrel's actual self in the process, along with one of their digimon partners, Leona (a Grappu Leomon, eventually reborn as Hina, who eventually was fully realized as Leopardmon. She came full circle.). Before Hel could get to them, Freyja, having witnessed Ephrel from the start of their intense wish to reunite with Chrom, stole them instead to force-feed them her nectar just before Ephrel's soul would've given in, causing them instead to be reborn as the dokkalfar Spectabilis and join her for a time as their right hand. Though they were eventually drawn by Robin's deep-seated insecurities and desperate dreams for a normal life with his found-family, this led to a domino effect of being sought out by Robin with Chrom and co, and piecing back together the memories they broke from all their intense stress and trauma, eventually finally reuniting Ephrel and Chrom in full.

As Spectabilis, Ephrel is regarded as the Dokkalfar of Longing Dreams, whose focus are on dreams that are the strongest wishes from the heart that the person whose source of the dream thinks is impossible to achieve, whether or not it truly is. Due to the ambiguous nature of their nightmares, Spectabilis maintained a neutral approach to dreams, rather than be inclined to cause the greatest negativity in a victim like Triandra and Plumeria initially do, being ambiguously inspiring in reminding a subject that the impossibilities are entirely on them and their ideals. Two instances they brought up such is recognizing Robin's impossible wish was to live a normal, peaceful life with his newfound family and lovers after hailing from a background of grief, misery and uncertainty, or Lyon's wish to reconcile with Eirika and Ephraim among their other party, but his deep-seated fear to ever actually face them, despite their expressed interest to speak to him. Despite being dismissed and antagonized by Peony for being a dokkalfar and misinterpreting the nature of their dreams, Spectabilis maintained a neutral opinion of all alfrs, including the ljolsalfar, and they eventually befriended Peony and Mirabilis throughout the events of Book IV. Freyja initially trusted and looked up heavily to Spectabilis and their advice in recognizing their inherent maturity from having been turned into an alfr as an adult (rather than as children like the other alfrs), which wound up deeply upsetting her when Chrom "stole" them from her, only for Spectabilis to be a key part in stopping Freyja's nightmare onslaughts and calming her and Freyr into surrendering. Despite recognizing Freyja's negative aspects and their supports' (especially Chrom's) justifiable misgivings to her in particular, they still hold some regard of respect for her enough to protect her and Freyr's life over the course of Book IV and reconciling with Freyja in her defeat, despite them having a tentative, distant relationship in caretaking for the other alfrs while having otherwise parted ways with the siblings, give or take minor visits. In her absense, Ephrel retained the role they served as an older sibling figure to the alfrs, but especially in helping Triandra and Plumeria better process their past traumas and struggles in transitioning to normal lives again in Askr.

As Ephrel, while they eventually gained the ability to regain their original form as a human through Eclair's stones and Lyon's heavy research in inventing a fae stone with it, the side-effect to this unusual craft led to them still retaining the unusual pigments of their hair color as Spectabilis (minus the floral details), an issue Ephrel never cared enough to fix, and thought it was neat enough to keep. They held a very lax, calm, "going with the flow" attitude that led them also to hold very little interest in reclaiming their role as summoner from under Sparrow, and in fact holding pride in both her and Chrom while engaging more to help them or guide them when needed. Instead of take back Breidablik, they primarily use their weapon, the Flower of Fate, still leftover from their time as Spectabilis that they could still call upon on a whim. When combined with Breidablik, however, it can turn into the unusual, unique digimental of Fate, fulfilling the role that Sparrow was originally exploited and tricked by of the original crest of Grimeal. Even after their time under Freyja, they still regularly use their powers of dreams and sleep-based powers to otherwise support and help others through complicated thought processes and issues, and have otherwise rekindled their partnership with their surviving digimon partners, Angie and Devi while realizing their lost partner Leona was reincarnated into Hina. This assistance with dream-based advice and focus eventually influenced other alfrs, in particular Triandra and Plumeria, who shifted their own powers to more neutral focuses between clarity and love in general. Though their eventual daughter in Lilium (a ljolsalfarian Lucina) eventually yielded another Flower of Fate, their flower and Lilium's are composed of very different flowers, likely sharing the same loan name due to Lilum being naturally born as an alfr, rather than be converted to such by Freyja or Freyr.

#Summoner OC #FEH OC #Summoner OC Ephrel #Fire Emblem Heroes #FEH #My kiransona things #my art