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allgremlinart · 2 years

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..in front of MY salad??

#superbat #egregious flirting

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trudemaethien · 6 months

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If you're still looking for writing prompts, I got:

Echo/Fi for the ship and "Exchange, Integrity and Trouble" for the word prompts! (You did say words, so hope 3 is enough!)

They sorta took the bit in their teeth and ran away with it, lol. prompts what prompts? 😅

“Hey, is that Ghez Hokan’s— I thought you died!”

“No, but didn’t you die?”

“You two…know each other?”

The commando in the grey beskar doffs his helmet and in unison two eyebrows on two different faces go up as they swing in incredulous unison to Hunter, as if questioning their acquaintance is the abnormal part of this encounter, and not an RC and an ARC somehow knowing each other on sight. Those groups didn’t usually play well together.

“How do you know each other?” Tech interjects.

The commando grins, brilliant and lopsided and says, “Well, y’see what ha’happened was, Eya’ka here—”

Echo promptly makes a rude noise over him. “Nuh-uh, you lost the right to baby-name me fair and square, Ei-Oh-One-Fi.”

“You cheated,” Fi slings back, immediately heated. At least one of the other commandos is laughing under his T-visor.

“You wish I had to—”

“—if I coulda proved—”

“—cheat to beat your ass.”

Echo’s smile is out in full force, cocky and blinding, dimples and all. Hunter glances at the rest of the batch to see if they’re seeing what he’s seeing. The commando’s squadmates look just as far behind.

Fi purses his lips and visibly decides to take the better part of valor on this particular battlefield. “Cadet 21-0408,” he resumes, “did not beat my ass. He had a gambling problem. He bet outrageously against my trainee squad on some trumped up bullshit dare, and then mercilessly extorted us for all we were worth when he won on a technicality.”

This must not be his trainee squad, then. Hunter winces internally, but Echo is shaking with silent laughter. “You sure know how to hold onto a grudge, Fi’ika,” he quips.

“That’s n-not all you held onto,” Fi grumbles, fondly disgruntled.

Echo is still smirking. “No, no it was not,” he says, and that’s—he’s flirting? With this asshole? It almost sounds like they had a fling… The commandos look like it’s news to them too, but not all that shocking. Good. Some of those cohorts could be real pricks about inter-unit relationships.

Wrecker’s picking up on it too. “You guys…?” He points from one to the other eloquently and then ruins it with a blatantly obscene gesture that means a lot more than fucking.

“No!” Fi squawks, but Echo is still laughing, so Hunter really doubts the veracity of his denial. “I meant his kama,” he tries to excuse.

But hadn’t Echo not gotten that until he’d passed ARC Training?

“Can hang onto that anytime,” Echo flirts.

The laughing commando in purple and brown beskar’gam leans over, even with his comms muted, obviously dying of hilarity.

“I never—” Fi protests, trying futilely to defend himself but only making it seem more and more likely to be true.

“Mmm, I seem to recall—” Echo says, gearing up to cause even more trouble no doubt, and Fi has had enough. He tackles him to slap a hand over his mouth. Echo stumbles and twists, Fi slips, and the entire audience of two squads starts forward abortively to try and help.

With a whine of servos, Echo manages to turn their fall into something less drastic, but they end up in a tangled heap of grey and red-edged kamas on the ground anyway.

“Osik,” Fi says, winded, “can’t tussle like tubies anymore, can we?”

Echo pats his ass. “A repeat of last time is right out too.”

“Everyone who witnessed anything that may or may not have happened is dead,” Fi says hastily, the grief being trotted out old and worn, barely remarkable. “You can’t prove a thing.”

“Just us left, old boy,” Echo agrees pensively, then turns wicked again, helping Fi sit up. “Bet I could make you make that noise again, though.”

The atmosphere shifts back from the precipice of grief to a much more pleasant sort of remembrance. The Mandos call that aay’han, Hunter recalls due to their current company.

“No! What noise? There was no noise. There was no noise!” Fi protests as around them the rest of their adopted squads join in the laughter.

Young and Old, Merry and Bold 🔒 https://archiveofourown.org/works/51930292

#writing prompt #ask answered #fanfiction #cloneshipping #clones #arc trooper echo #republic commando fi #kama #fi 8015 #echo 1409 #star wars tcw #repcomm #egregious flirting #silliness #omega squad #background tbb #i kept omega(little sister) out of it bc that would have been too confusing #too many omegas #and its not even omegaverse

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dlartistanon · 1 year

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Let me pretend the entire crossover event is just one big DnD session by Team A4 because they do canonically play DnD according to this piece of furniture you get:

“Zato“ and “Black Horn“ in a MonHun-inspired campaign. The old man is Rangers. Durin is the Palico tower. Doctor is the DM.

#dltext #this can also explain why yato is dressed Like That despite being sensitive to light #that's such an egregious lore inconsistency #what if noir and yato's relationship only moves forward in dnd and not real life #imagine the only time you can flirt with the person you like is in dnd without it being awkward

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luveline · 5 months

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You are such an awesome writer 🥹 I love seeing you show up on my timeline!

I'm not sure if you are taking requests rn and totally ignore this and I'm so sorry if you are not and sorry to bug you.

I am so obsessed with bombshell bau reader with our boy Spence. I was thinking like maybe established relationship this time where the team goes out to the bar again only this time her and Spence are actually together so she's just really cute and even more cling. Maybe her and Emily or one of/all of the other BAU girls are being wild goofy drunk girl and reader is extra flirty with Spence but not at all smooth and Spencer is just like “you're a menace” ? But like in a sweet adoring way 😂?

Again no pressure at all and I hope you are feeling better from the rude requests and enjoying your time off school, lots of love xxx

thank you love, and thanks for your request!! ♡ drunk!reader

The last time you'd been to this bar in particular, you and Spencer were strictly friends. He was still styling his hair straight and wearing sweater vests, and the idea of being your boyfriend was a fantasy. A brilliant, never-going-to-happen work of fiction.

“My boyfriend is the prettiest man alive ever in the history of planet Earth!” you declare, climbing up on one knee in the booth beside him, your cherry spritzer tipping over the glass’ rim. It races down your naked arm to your elbow and drips from there to his thigh. “Have you seen him?”

“Sure, I've seen him,” Morgan says, rolling his eyes.

You wrap your arms around Spencer's head from the side and kiss his forehead. You shift as you do, forcing your lips up into his hair, leaving behind an accidental raspberry smear of lipgloss. “Then what's the problem?” you ask.

“I don't know,” Morgan says.

“I know what it is,” Emily says.

“Me too. Rhymes with indoctrination,” JJ laughs.

You put your glass down hard on the table, arm still held proudly behind Spencer's neck. A lot has changed since the last time you were here, but the way he looks up at you hasn't budged. He has a sick, all encompassing crush on you, and seeing you now turns it into a dizziness he can't shake, almost like he's had a few too many drinks with you. Your eyes are glassy, grounded but wet, and your eyelashes pinch together in the corners as you bring your gaze down to his. “It's love,” you say.

Everybody laughs. Spencer just keeps watching you watch him, his palm to the small of your back to prevent a fall.

“It's love!” Penelope echoes, shepherded by Hotch, too many drinks between them both. “My favourite lovebirds! I brought your drink, beautiful.”

“Thank you, gorgeous.” You take it eagerly. Spritzer sloshes over the bumps of your fingers.

“Sit down,” Spencer suggests.

You give him brief googly eyes and sit down. The booth is a three sided square, with you and Spencer on one arm, Rossi, JJ and Emily against the back, and now Morgan, Penelope and Hotch opposite. It's a full troupe tonight, a rarity, and you and Penelope decided early on that the best way to celebrate would be to drink whatever you liked and in egregious quantities.

Hotch is perhaps doing the same. Spencer can't tell. But all in all, everyone's having a good night, especially you.

“Did you hear that? He's so nice to me,” you say to no one in particular, your fitted blouse sparkling in the light as you lean back, your hand finding his thigh. “Spencer, what's on your pants?”

“Oh, I wonder?”

“You're not blaming me, are you?” Your voice is as stickying as you can make it, and drunk as a skunk you may be, but you maintain your talent for flirting.

“Did I say that?”

“Because that wouldn't be very, gentlemanly of you…” You lean in too close. Your talent remains. Your subtlety suffers a different fate.

He leans in like he might kiss you and says, “You're a menace.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

In front of all your friends and coworkers. “It means I'm cutting you off,” he says, sliding his hand between you and your glass.

More laughter. You throw hurt looks at them all and Spencer picks up your cherry spritzer. You're baffled, but a smile dripping in sickly sweet love spreads over your lips as he drinks it. “Fine, I'll share,” you say.

“Thank you,” he says, putting it out of your reach as he leans in to kiss you, cherry lingering on his lips.

You kiss him back gently, and then a little harder. He eases you away. Arms snuck once again around him, you squeeze until his ribs cry out in protest and make yourself comfortable on his shoulder.

“You're not mad at me, are you?” he asks, head angled down to offer a tender smile.

“I love you so much I've decided not to care.” You lift your head. “You're too nice to be mad at you,” you whisper. “And I love you.”

“Yeah, you've mentioned that.” He rubs your arm. He's so in love with you, he doesn't think to blush at his part in your PDA.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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t4tdexter · 6 months

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most egregious misconception in supernatural is that service workers want to be flirted with. 2nd is that torture is an effective method of extracting information

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ddarker-dreams · 5 months

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How much do you think it takes to fluster the husband rotation???

it doesn't take much?? not most people's definition of 'much', at least.

for chrollo, overhearing you talk about him (whether it be on the phone or you haven't noticed him standing there yet) gives him pause. it's in instances like these that people reveal their true colors. he's confident in his ability to read you, sure, but hearing your unfiltered thoughts out loud? that's an opportunity he'd kill for. metaphorically and literally. he waits with bated breath, almost embarrassed by his anticipation. you'd think he was a school girl eavesdropping on her crush. and when he hears you not only call him handsome, but emphasize just how much you enjoy your discussions with him? those very discussions that he cherishes dearly? he smiles without realizing it. faced with death, his heart remains steady. faced with anything related to you, it can't slow down.

gojo is, to the surprise of no one, kinda weird. you could huskily whisper the naughtiest line into his ear — he'd just grin and flirt back. he gets so caught up in outdoing you that he forgets to feel embarrassed. want to leave him speechless and knock the air from his lungs? it's surprisingly simple. steal one of his shirts, wear it as your PJs, then doze off waiting for him to return home. he secretly feels bad that his work hours are so erratic. he'll tell you not to stay up for him, but that doesn't mean he isn't touched when you try. the idea of you sitting there, fighting to stay awake because you want to spend time with him? cupid's arrow couldn't compare to the emotions that makes him experience. this, along with the added bonus of his too large shirt engulfing your form does him in. gojo takes enough pictures to necessitate buying additional cloud storage.

for scaramouche..................... just be nice to him without ulterior motives. that's it. no, really. he can't comprehend kindness. he understands transactions, where anything done for the sake of another is still ultimately for one's own benefit. this cynicism has helped him navigate fatui politics yet impedes any personal growth. brew him his favorite bitter tea, organize his belongings, gift him a homemade trinket; he'll flitter through multiple emotions. suspicion, confusion, then, finally, this warm sensation in his supposedly hollow chest that he can't find a word for. this little act haunts him. he can't stop obsessing over it. he wants to find proof that you're like every other wretched, self-serving creature in this world — (or does he?) — but his investigation proves unsuccessful. confronted by this undeniable reality, he's left to wrestle with the implications. you're genuinely thoughtful (ew) and most egregious of all, he likes it (ew x2). this is going to be his undoing, isn't it...?

blade is similarly simple. you needn't jump through hoops of fire to get his obstinate heart pounding. as for what does him in most effectively — your greetings. it's why he shows up unannounced. you'll freeze, giving him a once over, eyebrows cutely scrunching together as your brain puts two and two together. then stars twinkle in your eyes. you glow with the radiance of a thousand suns, running at him, your arms outstretched and legs keen on jumping. he catches you with ease. he's grateful that your face is buried into his chest. otherwise, you'd spot how the tip of his ears go red. what has he ever done to deserve such an enthusiastic welcome? nothing, as far as he's concerned. he doesn't deserve it, doesn't deserve you, yet here you are, excitedly rambling in his arms over his return. he'll say he just happened to be in the star system and decided to stop by. don't believe him. he traveled across the universe for you.

#crying irl..............#they need help so bad #i could fix them (except for gojo he's beyond my abilities)#chrollo x reader #scaramouche x reader #gojo x reader #blade x reader #chrollo brainrot #gojo brainrot #scaramouche brainrot #blade brainrot #concepts #answered #Anonymous

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lokisgoodgirl · 1 year

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A Gentlemen's Agreement [Reader x Loki/Steve/Bucky]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: It's time for you to make up your mind. And the boys have just the plan to help you do that. (w/c 3.2k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smutty. Teasing. Sexual tension. Not a foursome. A/N: Loki is my king. I just needed to get this out thanks to @sidepartskinnyjeans

The click of Steve’s dress shoes echoed as he ushered you away from the busy ballroom of Stark’s county house. Your nerves were fizzing, but your face didn’t betray the flutter of excitement growing in your belly. In the darkness of the mahogany lined corridor, firelight licked from a solitary open doorway. A nod from the captain urged you silently inside. Walking into the room, your breath hitched. Whatever you had expected from his clandestine invitation in the crowd, this wasn’t it.

Steve circled around you, taking his place in the menacingly sensual line-up. There they stood in quiet stoicism, dressed in fitted finery – the trio of beneficiaries to your relentless flirtations. Their arms were folded, their legs wide in triangular determination. For the briefest of moments, you wondered how all of them had managed to excuse themselves from the party at once. But seeing the way they were taking up space, stretching the air with their achingly large egos, that question was quickly forgotten. Each was more breathtakingly handsome than the last. Rogers. Barnes. Laufeyson. “What is this?” you giggled nervously, snapping to each set of blue eyes in turn. They began to smirk in unison. You shivered despite the heat from the fire. “S’come to our attention you’ve been pulling the same tricks on all of us,” the winter soldier drawled, his accent thick with playful taunt. You swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “I don’t know what you-” “Oh, I think you do, Agent,” Laufeyson hummed, tilting his head. Long fingers drummed on his bicep as he rocked on his heels. Roaring firelight was haloed behind the ebony mane that cascaded around the shoulders of a midnight-blue suit sitting snug to his body. You pressed your lips together, stifling a whimper. “Look fellas, she’s blushing," Steve teased. The three of them chuckled. “I don’t blush,” you snipped, folding your arms to match them. “And I’d appreciate if you could tell me why the three of you are lined up like...like…” The words you searched for ebbed as you readjusted your feet. It was all you could do not to go over on your ankle in these stupid heels. Heat was building between your thighs, the unmistakeable thump of arousal beating as your addled thoughts raced beneath their penetrating stares.

You knew exactly what Bucky meant. And now it seemed, so did they. You knew bending over to pick up that pen in front of all three of them yesterday was a bad idea. Although, no one in the world would blame you – working with three of the finest specimens of masculinity ever created. Had you gone out your way to tease and flirt with each one of them over the past several months? Possibly. But hey, it was good for morale. And besides, there wasn’t a hope in hell any of them would return your affections. Not serial-bed hopper Barnes, he didn’t fuck where he ate. Not tightly wound Rogers, you seriously doubted he’d approve of subordinate relations. And as for the ice king – you weren’t even sure he knew your name.

The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire. God, you wished it wasn’t so hot. Your eyes searched the floor, hearing Loki clear his throat. “As Barnes noted, you have been toying with each of us in a manner both indecent and egregious these past months.” He let the rhetorical judgement marinate in silence before continuing. “Do you deny it?” You raised your eyes to his, seeing the embers of mischief smouldering within. “No,” you said confidently, as all three men cast conspiratorial glances to one another. Rogers balanced his elbow on a tight fist, raising his fingers to his chin. He narrowed his eyes. “That dress though fellas," he growled with uncharacteristic lust. "Have you ever seen such a thing?” Barnes snorted. “Forget two birds with one stone, that outfit takes out three cocks with one hit.” His blue eyes were dark in the low light, heavy brows shadowing the contours as his chin dipped. “An assassin, even off the clock.” he grit. “And she knows how much I love that neck.” While he was speaking, you instinctively brushed a strand hanging from your up-do away from the boatline collar of the dress. He was right. You did know. You had known ever since the first of his ragged breaths, tangible desire pulsing in his veins and stretching his trousers as he massaged your shoulders. The first time you had asked, he had thought you were joking. But every time you felt the cool flatness of his metal limb against your spine, steadying you as his fingers found every pocket of tension in your upper body – both you and he knew it was no laughing matter. Had you exaggerated the moans of pleasure his touch released? No. There had been no need. It felt fucking phenomenal. Orgasmic, even. And you hadn’t held them back. Your neck had extended to the side as his fingertips pulsed into the most delicate areas, breathy pants filling the air that you hoped made him think of how you would sound as he fucked you into the headboard. “And she knows how much I love those legs,” Steve smouldered, curling a finger against his lips as his gaze ran from your hips to the floor and back again. The dress stopped midway up your thighs, perfectly tight before the sheer drop of your limbs to the heels. You had caught him staring open-mouthed as you pulled yourself dripping wet from the ocean on a mission in the Seychelles months ago. His face had flushed as you’d clocked him running up your femurs, a bite of his lip betraying the base need boiling beneath an all-business exterior.

On every mission, you now made a point of elevating your leg as you snapped on the holsters, lunging forward against the nearest bench. Wall. Anything to drive him mad. You wondered how often he thought of your legs wrapped around his hips while his tactical suit lay strewn around his ankles. Without fail, his teeth always found their way to his bottom lip; a clench of his ass and a forbidden husk of ‘goddam’ under his breath making you smirk as you turned away. “And I think not that I need to point out what aspect of the offending garment is for me,” Loki purred, releasing the cross of his arms to fall behind his back in a ceremonial clasp. “It’s green," Bucky stated, licking his lips. “Yes," Loki replied in baritone, cheekbones sharpening. “It is.”

Loki. Now that was a story. Yes, you had felt the linger of his keen eyes on your ass. But who hadn’t. And yes, his gravelled pleasantries that always dripped a little closer than necessary into your ear were tempting. But the god was a walking temptation. It was his nature. He was indiscernible, a mystery. Aside from briefings, the longest you had ever spent in his company had been when he would extend his hand wordlessly on nights just like this, leading you the dance-floor. All onlookers would see was the standard wrapping of his arms around your waist, and yours over his shoulders. They did not see the small circles grazed on the nape of his neck beneath his curls, the half-innocent moans released by his ear when he brought you in from a spin. They did not see the lingering play of your fingers on the delicate skin of his wrists, the bite of your lip as Loki’s hips pressed into your stomach. A solitary flame in a sea of cold indifference. You’d take any heat from him could you get. They didn’t see his brows twitch as he registered the green lingerie down the carefully calculated neckline of your dress. Just for him. Your breathing had becoming shallow. Were you actually about to have all three of them at once? Was that even physically possible? Two super-soldiers and a god? You didn’t know if you would survive – but something told you it might be worth it. Positions and logistics raced through your mind, making you dizzy. You shook your head.

“OK you got me, I fancy all of you. So what? It’s just a bit of fun,” you gasped, running sweaty palms casually down the front of your dress. “The fellas and I have an idea, if you’re agreeable of course,” Steve said slowly, following Loki in clasping his hands behind his back. You squinted, congratulating yourself for encouraging the captain’s foray into unbuttoning the top of his shirts. His pulse was racing, you could see it pumping beneath his jawline. Bucky still stood with his arms loosely crossed over a waistcoat, the cotton of his thick white shirt bulging against metal and flesh. A sliver of steel glinted in the firelight, sleeves folded up to the elbows. He nodded once, without a flicker of a smile. Fuck, they all looked so good. “A gentlemen’s agreement, if you will,” Loki uttered, a smile curling on his lips. He’d been waiting to deliver that line, you could tell. “You like us. We like you. But we don’t share," Bucky glowered matter-of-factly. You could feel the thin fabric of your panties sticking to your lips, tacky and unbearably wet from this erotic ambush. “You don’t?” you quipped. “What a shame.” “We don’t," Steve repeated. “At least not ye-” he cast a glance to Bucky, before clearing his throat. “We think it’s important you uh...focus your attentions. If that’s what you wanna do.” A sudden thrill raced through your blood. The idea that they had planned this, that they had spoken about you in hushed whispers behind closed doors made your pussy hum with forbidden pleasures.

You wandered to the antique sofa to the side, feeling the heated stares of each of the men follow you. “What’s this gentleman’s agreement, then?” you purred, crossing your legs. Steve swallowed as the tight emerald fabric rode up your thigh. The god of mischief laughed softly, a deep sound which seemed to shake the room like bass.

“Each of us will kiss you, and then you must decide,” he said matter-of-factly. “The unsuccessful will respect your choice of victor and no retaliation will be made.” “Decide?” “Which of us to get to know better," Steve explained, shrugging off his suit jacket. He threw it gently over his shoulder, making it land on the back of a chair behind him with magnetic finesse. Bucky rolled his eyes. “I think what the captain’s tryna say is that we all wanna get to know you, better. So it’s lady’s choice,” he winked. You raised an eyebrow towards Loki. You couldn’t imagine him ever agreeing to something like this. A solitary nod was his only response, eyelashes fluttering down in a moment of panty-wetting reverence. “I accept,” you said slowly, running your eyes across the line-up. Their competitive sincerity was catching. You wet your lips in anticipation, still in disbelief that this was actually happening. Perhaps your corpse was lying strewn on the dance-floor, paramedics hoisting you onto a trolley in a body-bag. Perhaps this was heaven. And maybe it was the low lighting, or maybe it was the dancing shadows licking their wide bodies stacked with endless muscle. But you could swear that each and every one of them was hard. “As discussed. Thirty seconds,” Loki murmured coolly to the men standing to attention on his right, flourishing a hand. Barnes stepped forward, smoothing long strands of chestnut hair behind his ears.

“Alright,” he growled confidently, swaggering the several steps and planting onto the sofa beside you. His thighs spread against the antique furniture, flexing beneath the tight suit trousers as he twisted his torso to face you. The scent of his cologne filled your nostrils, smoked wood and lingering sage like a wet autumn forest. His hand cupped your jawline, the steel arm resting on the back of the curved rest.

“Here goes nothin,” he whispered to himself, curled digits trailing longingly down the curve of your neck. They tugged at the neckline of your dress, slipping it over the curve. He leant forward, parted lips colliding with the crescent of your shoulder. Your eyelids fluttered closed, a staggered moan you didn’t realise was hiding released as he worked across your skin. His stubble tingled against the delicate surface, the flat of his nose slotting beneath your ear as his kisses became hungrier against your pulse point. Less delicate. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this, darlin',” he rasped, before licking licentiously from the base of your throat to the angle of your jaw. In seconds, his mouth was pressed to yours; tongue eagerly flicking against your lips before you let him enter. Bucky’s moan was dynamite, fingers guiding your chin as he devoured you in targeted desire. He leant you backwards into the cushions while your arm instinctually slid between his shoulder-blades, pulling him closer. Barnes groaned as his hand slid covetously from your waist and up the curve of your breasts, before burrowing deep into your bun. He thrust gruffly against you on instinct, something thick and menacingly primal dragging against your thigh. The feeling of his fingers tugging at your scalp sent your heat into overdrive, clenching desperately around air. “Time,” Loki purred calmly. Stubble scratched a final time, your hand flying to rest on his metal arm as you breathlessly broke apart with a whimper. Barnes winked, the skin surrounding his mouth pink as he rose and re-joined the other two. You cast glances between them while your chest heaved.

“Do you need a moment?” Steve inquired politely, folding the sleeves of his shirt up further. You watched the veins in his muscled forearms tighten with the movement, the slight bend of his knees as he gave a deferential cough. As if he’s preparing for a fight, you thought as your head continued to spin from Bucky’s kiss. “No, I’m good,” you slurred, smiling as you straightened and patting the sofa beside you. “I prefer it standing, if that’s alright,” Steve said tentatively, brow twitching in mild alarm as he saw your eyes widen. But he didn’t retract it. Standing obediently, it suddenly occurred to you that a kiss on the hand would be very on brand for him, perhaps rethinking his part in this atypical charade. But Steve paced towards you, looking as determined as he did striding down the ramp of the quinjet. Your breath hitched as the captain’s hands cupped your face, walking you expertly back towards the walled bookcase. A shelf pressed against your spine while Rogers bore down, his gentle tongue nudging at your lips; and with a whimper, he breached. The warmth of the muscle caressing your own made your knees wobble. Hard, rippling abdominals pressed flush against your chest, pinning you softly beneath Keats and Wordsworth while his hands began to smooth over your shoulders, over your waist. You felt like the poets would approve. Steve moaned into your mouth as his palms slid possessively down your thighs, grunting as he whipped them forwards effortlessly around his waist. You yelped in surprise before his lips swallowed yours again, ankles crossing around taut hips. The heat from his skin warmed the scent of ginger wafting from the base of his collarbone, its spice firing in your nostrils. The kiss was hungry and desperate and wild. You could feel his solid cock rubbing against your stomach, tasting every inch of your passion as his fingertips dug into the soft flesh beneath your ass. He thrust softly with every wax and wane of his jaw, needy fingers running through his newly mussed golden hair. You pulled greedily before there was a soft clear of someone’s throat. It sounded like Loki. “Time,” Bucky barked, and reluctantly, Steve returned you to the ground. Still in a daze, and with palms spread against the bookcase, your eyes fell on the final figure. “Believe me…” Loki purred condescendingly, “you’ll wish to sit down for this.”

With shaking steps you teetered to the sofa, plonking down with a sharp intake of breath. Loki glided towards you, elegantly manoeuvring his long limbs aside your own. He brought a finger beneath your chin, tilting your head back. “You are so beautiful.” he murmured, before pressing in to a firm, chaste kiss. One of your hands flew to his thigh, running your palm over the hard, forbidden mass concealed tight and thick beneath the cotton. You desperately keened into him, tongue searching against closed lips. Loki withdrew with a chuckle, sweeping the hair from one side of his head. “If you wish me to stop, tell me,” he whispered hot in your ear, a wave of amber and spices and decadence filling your senses before he slipped from the sofa to his knees. Your eyes widened as he gently spread your legs. “The rules did not specify where I could kiss you.” he explained softly, pre-empting the questioning thrill lighting your eyes. Disgruntled huffs from Bucky and Rogers barely registered as you felt a cool tingle of the god’s magic dissolve your favourite underwear.

Loki’s smouldering gaze latched to yours, lust-drunk and determined, before it fell to the glistening mess at his eye level. “Do you consent to my audition?” he hummed, tentatively pushing the sides of your dress to the tops of your thighs. Your stare flickered to Steve and Bucky, suspiciously observing Loki on his knees with pure jealousy. "Yes," you heard yourself murmur under your breath. Fresh arousal was seeping from your centre, spreading down your heated skin. You had never wanted anything more. "Louder, please," Loki smirked, the curve of his fingers fastened to your knees. “Yes, Loki...g-god-” you gasped, brow furrowing as you urged him on with a tilt.

Immediately, his tongue licked a wide, earth-shattering stripe up your slit from base to tip. Your head fell back with a rattling moan, one hand combing through his hair as the other gripped the armrest. Loki quickly moved your legs over his shoulders, sliding you further back. The god’s open mouth latched to your swollen clit, sucking and lapping lower with sinful precision. All you could see was his dark curls and proud brow, the sight of the god buried between your open thighs making reality blur. Every caress made your hips thrust further into his mouth, shaking breaths shuddering your body as he moaned against your wet heat. The noises he made were utter devastation, muffled pants and enthusiastic slurps sounding between your splayed legs as he ate you out like a starving man. Behind your eyelids, you could feel the covetous gazes of the two soldiers rolling over your body as Laufeyson’s fingertips dug into your calves like a hunter. “T-time,” Steve choked. “No!” you gasped, pawing at Loki’s cheek in despair. The god smiled, chin glistening while closing your trembling knees in a move that could only be described as gentlemanly. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, unfurling and retreating backwards to the line-up with his arms spread in a show of feigned innocence. You panted, gathering your thoughts as your gaze landed on each of them in turn. “Lady’s choice,” Bucky re-iterated gruffly, widening his legs. Beside him, the captain’s fingers rested wide on his hips, biting his lip while his eyes lingered on the fresh sheen of sweat clinging to your legs. Loki raised a finger absent-mindedly to the corner of his mouth, brushing the edge before sucking it clean to the second knuckle. His eyes smouldered, fixed on you, the flicker of firelight casting deep shadows in hollowed cheekbones. You took a deep breath, the only name it was ever going to be dancing on the tip of your tongue.

🤷‍♂️ For those who want a bit...more - A Gentlemen's Bond is the follow up to this.

Tags @meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loveroflokiforpoeticjustice @coldnique @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @vbecker10 @imalovernotahater @thomase1 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @psychospore @littlespaceyelf

#loki x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky x reader #loki x steve x bucky x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #marvel men #loki x female reader #steve rogers #bucky barnes #loki fanfiction #marvel imagine #loki imagine #loki marvel #loki x reader smut #steve rogers smut #bucky smut

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highvern · 2 months

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Ateez in Different NSFW Careers

Pairing: ot8

Genre: smut, 21+

Warnings: lots of sex, masturbating, porn, domination/submission, fetishes, lmk if i missed anything egregious

Note: this is an idea for a miniseries but idk and thought id put it out there to see if people are interested (dont bring up the ateez mixtape series, im working on it!) thank you @wingsofimagery @yessa-vie for listening to this brain rot

read more here

Hongjoong:

onlyfans creator, solos of him masturbating or nudes. weirdly artistic? like camera angles on point, edited to perfection, color graded. rarely, if ever, collabs with others. occasionally posts erotic photography of one unidentifiable woman. his subscribers aren't sure what to make of it but pictures of them together are some of his best work. daylights as a photographer and has some of his work in small galleries across the city.

Seunghwa:

amatuer porn star, makes homemade couple porn or something with a close female friend. domestic/bf vibes in every video. v soft with each other even when they're having rough sex. people assume they're actually dating bc of the insane chemistry even though they never show their faces. its his fun dirty little secret no one in the office knows.

Yunho:

boyfriend for hire. specializes in "turn your brain off for the night, i'll handle it." rent him to be your date to an event or just for a night on the town. doesn't always sleep with his client (his discretion) but usually cuddles and will spend the night. just trying to pay off his student loans since being an analyst pays shit. big yunho bc he has a big... u kno? and loves hearing the women he sleeps with rave about it. has had several repeat customers and older women that recommend him to their friends.

Yeosang:

audio erotica. just aside hobby for him. tbh 9/10 times forgets to record or that he even has the account. started bc a girl he was seeing freshman year of college told him she wanted a video with the sound on and he didn't know what that meant but she liked his voice enough to let the completely black screen slide. posts sporadically but always makes waves when he does. people have offered him money for custom audios and he always turns them down.

San:

fetish model. shibari, leather, latex. you name it, he's most likely modeled it. has portrait of himself (unrecongnizable, facing away just his back criss crossed with ropes, hands bound at the base of his spine) hanging in his apartment. his friends think its weird since they know he's the one in the picture but most of the girls he brings home just think he's into some freaky stuff. started bc he would nude model for the art classes at his college when he needed fast money for weed. people assume he likes really kinky sex bc of his job but he prefers vanilla sex most of the time bc his job is so kink heavy. works as a fitness instructor as his 9-5, and had a few people recognize him but most are cool and leave him alone

Mingi:

nsfw twitter creator. videos, pictures, sliding into dms. mingi does it all and enjoys the comments of people thirsting over him even if he's one dick among thousands. for his day job he works in a sex store and flirts with the exotic dancers who come in to buy their costumes (turned down every single time, there's even a pool for how quickly he'll strike out). the one girl that flirted back still lives in his brain rent free bc all she did was smile and he folded like origami. now when she comes in mingi has to remind himself not to drool.

Wooyoung:

cam boy brat, sugars on the side. likes being degraded by his audience when he's bad. lover of milfs, and has a sugar mommy he sees once a month. loves being wined and dined by her and then loved on at her fancy apartment uptown. started doing both in college to pay rent, now works at a dance studio and keeps it up bc the extra cash is nice. enamored with taking pictures during sex. has a collection of polaroids with his current FWB that he cherishes more than anything (always carries one in his phone case). toyed with the idea of having her come on his streams but he doesn't want to share. he should probably look into that more.

Jongho:

dungeon dom (IDK), the kind thats a look don't touch dom. if you need a session to work through your stress, go to him. sexy spanking, punishment spanking, therapy spanking. he's got the knowledge and know how. has a strange collection of vintage dvds and magazines. rare stuff that he treats like art rather than smut. jongho i never want to speak on your name im sorry

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu

#ksmutsociety #kvanity #cromernet #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #atz fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez angst #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #🫡 highvern

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keresnotceres · 10 months

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Say You’re Mine (Good, Good, Great pt 2)

Ghost x Fem!Reader

[nsfw] cw(s): rdr is being a slut again, jealousy, possessive undertones, SEX, rough sex, oral (m receiving), throatfucking lol, p-in-v sex, ghost getting called ‘big boy,’ unsafe sex oops.

4.7k words In honor of 200+ followers (wtf guys thank u) & by the request of many, I present to you: Good, Good, Great pt2 :) This is just shameless porn with an egregious amount of plot. Enjoy my lovely dovies <3 (Also Ghost has a short refractory period for uh,, plot reasons).

A few months after his jealousy at Myth, Ghost gets sent on leave. When he arrives home at 12 AM on a Friday night, he promptly decides to pay you a little visit at work. You, however, are once again testing his patience (and he doesn’t take particularly kindly to that).

Roughly three months later, you’re working a busy Friday night at Myth, and damn it, you’re making sure that you’re making good money tonight. Flirting was easy; men were easy. Just making them think you were the least bit interested did wonders for your tips. Sure, you didn’t make as much as the girls on stage, but it was pretty damn close to it.

You made your way downstairs after taking a few orders from assorted tables upstairs, going to the servers closet to ring them into the system when the hostess scurried over and told you about a party of 8 at Center Table 3 before skittering on back to the stand to greet another guest or five. After putting your tables’ orders, you began to prepare yourself for the nightmare that this 8-top was about to be.

It was only 10 PM, and you had hope they wouldn’t stick around until closing. As you make your way through the sea of customers on the first floor, you spot the table; even better, you spot the perfect person to flirt-till-you-die with.

He was rather young, maybe 21 or 22, and looked like he would see white if you even smiled at him. He came in with some sort of bachelor party, and you were expecting the worst sort of groom-to-be and his just-as-bad groomsmen. Your target looked the most frightened to be there, like if he said the wrong thing he would be thrown to the curb; which meant he was the perfect man to squeeze some money out of. The men around him would probably cheer him on for getting special attention.

You walk over to the table with a smile etched onto your face, swaying your hips just enough to be noticeable, and put a small bounce into your steps. You stop next to the man at the head of the table and wait for the group to quiet from their unnecessarily in-depth conversation about their favorite actresses.

“I’ll be taking care of you guys tonight,” you introduce yourself. “Can I get you guys started with a bottle or are you looking for something by the glass?” You look down at the man you’re next to, tilting your head a bit.

He looks up to you, not even bothering to hide the stare he gives your tits. “What beers do you have here?”

You nod a bit, launching into the list. “We have Budweiser, Guinness, Foster’s, Carling—” The man put his hand up to stop you, making some sort of interrupting noise.

“I’ll take a Foster’s,” he says blandly. He gestures to another one of his friends to order, head swiveling back over to the stage as a dancer makes her way on. If you didn’t want to take a glass and shove it up his ass at that moment, the following hours of their presence would definitely make you want to.

You stretch your lips into the kindest customer service smile you can muster and look at the next man. When you get to the last drink of the table, the poor man you were planning on hitting in til’ he couldn’t see straight, you step closer.

“And what can I get you?” You make your voice just a little bit sweeter and lean down a bit.

His eyes dart from your face to your breasts, then dart back up. “A whiskey sour,” he blurts out, tacking on a quiet ‘please’ as a second thought.

“Of course,” you smile at him, then look up to the rest of the group. “I’ll be right back with those drinks.” You turn away, and as you’re walking towards the servers closet, you can hear some cheers and a catcall from the table.

Once you’re in the server's closet, you drop the painfully plastic smile and fish a coworker’s Elfbar from the pile of check books and pens on the table below the kiosk. As you enter drink after drink, you take a hit from the vape, letting the nicotine take the place of smacking your head against the wall repeatedly.

You send the final drink, a fucking whiskey sour of all things, and groan. Another bottle girl comes speeding into the server’s closet, a sour look on her face.

“What’s it today, Mel?” You ask, eyebrows raised as you lean against one of the walls.

Mel looks at you disgruntled, like she was about to lose her shit. “My table just tried to order five espresso martinis and then got mad at me when I said we couldn’t do them tonight.” She taps a few buttons of the kiosk rather aggressively. “Then proceeded to ask for an extra strong vodka cran, but to only be charged for a single.”

Mel taps on the mixed drink button, then on the vodka button, then cranberry, then double. “Fuck her,” she hisses, taking the Elfbar right out of your hands.

It’s only after she takes two hits from it that she asks whose it is. You don’t know either.

The night continues like that, with Mel being perpetually pissed off at a table and you staving off the urge to bash your skull in with a vaguely blueberry smelling vape.

When the clock hits midnight, you don’t have the Cinderella moment that some part of you wishes you could have. You don’t get to rush home, fall asleep, then wake up to your prince charming searching for you. No, of course you don’t.

Instead, you get the worst hit from someone’s cart that leaves you fighting for your life and, much worse, the nightmare bachelor table waving you down.

“What can I help you guys with?” You look around the table, waiting for someone to speak up.

One of them takes one for the team, finally. “We wanted to get a bottle of something, but Nick here decided to wave you down before we figured out what to get.” He jerks a thumb in the direction of the man you decided to target.

So your victim's name is Nick, huh?

You put a hand to your mouth and force out a laugh; a man likes it when you laugh at things he says. “It’s alright, I don’t mind waiting for you to decide.” Your eyes flicker to Nick, meeting his for a fleeting second.

It was almost too easy.

You smirk at him, putting on your best charm. “Since you gave me the false alarm, how ‘bout you buy me a drink?” A few of the guys at the table chuckle, as expected. You take the opportunity to walk up to him, getting closer.

You put your hand on the back of his chair, leaning your body weight into it, your fingers facing him. Nick looks up at you like a girl looking up at some ugly guy she’s giving a blowjob to, and it takes everything in you to give him a simple, sultry smile in response instead of a fit of laughter.

You look over to the groom-to-be, waiting for him to decide on the table’s bottle. And then you see a familiar jacket in the corner of your eyes, with a familiar build and a familiar surgical mask covering half of a very familiar face.

God damn, Simon Riley might just be everything you needed tonight.

Once again, he didn’t even bother to call to tell you he was coming home. You couldn’t stay mad at him for long, though. The rational part of your brain blue-screens, leaving only the work-oriented brain and the stupid slut brain left. And the work-oriented part of your brain wants to make good money, so that’s exactly what you’re going to continue doing.

There’s something about fucking with Simon that thrills you. Maybe it’s the fact you know you’ll get something good out of it, or maybe you’re just a little messed up in the head.

You look away from Simon and swivel your head back down to the poor soul you’ve chosen to pay off your car insurance. Your hand shifts so that your fingertips rest gingerly on Nick’s shoulder, and boy does it do wonders.

His look of ‘blowjob innocence’ morphs into ‘holy shit a woman is interested in me’ and some of his friends croon oohs, another whistles. You peel your eyes away from Nick and look to the groom, “have you decided on a bottle?”

He looks over at you from the bottle menu with unfocused eyes. “We’ll do, uh, a bottle of Jameson and,” he squinted back at the menu, then looked at a friend. “What vodka did you want?”

The friend looks up from his lap, his illuminated face darkening. “Oh,” he leans over to look at the menu, then looks at you. Or, rather, he looks at your tits. “Grey Goose.” You fight the urge to raise your eyebrows and question him, but manage to smile politely and nod.

“I’ll bring those right down for you boys.” As you leave the table, you let your fingers trace Nick’s shoulder lightly. Your gaze slowly finds Simon when you turn away, and he simply stares at you, his usual bourbon nestled in a hand.

With a cheeky smile on your face, you skitter over to Simon to greet him.

“Hi there,” you croon, “what’s a big boy like you doin’ here?” Simon gives no hint at a change in attitude, you don’t even see a single hint that he’s smiling under the mask. You pout at him, “at least say hi.”

His eyes are unusually steely, like they had been months ago during his surprise visit. “Stop touching him.”

Your faux pout melts into a grin, “jealous?” You ask, stepping forward. “Again?”

He looks away from you, eyes flicking to the dramatic scene of some random movie playing on one of the bar TVs. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

You lean into him, breasts pressing up against his bicep. “Come on, big boy,” you goad, “no need to act nonchalant.”

He lifts his arm to push you off, not even bothering to look at you. “You heard me,” he says, “don’t touch him again.” His words only push you to question him further, if anything, they make you want to get more handsy with — what was his name? Nate?

“Or what?” You press, cocking your head to the side to catch his eyes again. “You gonna kill him?” Simon’s eyes flit to you, flashing with some sort of challenge.

His eyes bore into yours, “maybe.” His gaze moves away from you again and his free hand slips up to pull down the surgical mask and take a sip of bourbon.

His lackluster response leaves you itching for more. You huff at him and slink away to the server’s closet to put the two bottles on the bachelor party’s tab. You trudge up the stairs to the second floor, eyes sweeping over the chattering people at tables.

You grab the two requested bottles from the upstairs bar before visiting a few of your tables on the second floor, checking in with a sweet smile before heading back down to the bachelor party. You give your poor cheeks a rest as you bounce down the stairs, your face falling into a bored resting face before it stretches right back into that damn customer service smile that you managed to perfect over the years.

You pass by Simon on your way back to the bachelor party, his eyes give you a brief warning before they flick back to the TV screen. It only makes you want to make him mad.

After you’ve set the bottles on the table and brought over new glasses (including a few shot glasses) for their liquor, you go right back to flirting with whatever-his-name-is. Your hand rests fully on his shoulder as you chat with the table, paying special attention to Nigel (or was it Nico?).

You can practically feel Simon’s eyes burning a hole through you as you do so, and it makes you wonder just how much he really cared about this little stint of yours. Nevertheless, you let your victim of the night continue to think he’s special, you even get roped into feeding him a shot of the Grey Goose.

Nick (you were reminded of his name by one of his friends goading him into taking shots) starts to get more handsy with you, to which you kick it up a notch. As you gently hold the shot glass up to his lips, his hands snake up and rest on your hips, keeping you in place as his friends count down until he has to take the shot.

You lean forward with the shot glass after someone shouts ‘zero,’ basically shoving your tits into his face as he took his shot of top-shelf vodka. You congratulate his semi-decent shot taking skills in an effort to make yourself seem like you really like him.

“Good job,” you purr, hand raising to stroke his hair once before falling back to your side. “Took that so well.” When you step away, the man looks like he’s in a stupor.

You turn to look at Simon with a cheeky smile engraved on your lips, only to receive a very pointed glare.

When the bachelor party finally leaves at around 1:30 AM, after what feels like for-fucking-ever, you wander over to the table to pick up the check. Your flirting really paid off.

A tip of £200 on a bill of roughly £600 — almost a 35% tip. Making money off of men was ridiculously easy. Even better, you finally get to go the fuck home! You silently thank your manager for not giving you the closing shift and get your shit before anyone can pester you to stay longer.

Simon’s waiting for you at the door, staring straight through you as you make your way to him with your work bag slung over your shoulder. He doesn’t make any effort to speak, and you’re frankly a bit too burnt out to comment on it. You pass him your car keys, unwilling to drive after your nightmare shift.

The drive home is quiet, not even the cheesy radio music breaks the silence despite the volume being on level 30.

As soon as he pulls into your parking space of the building lot, he turns the car off and flings your keys back over to you. You amble into the building,

Simon’s hands are on your waist before you can even put your keys down, you barely register that the door shuts behind the two of you as his fingers dig into your hips.

You snicker at him, “you weren't jealous, huh?” Simon doesn’t respond verbally, just hoists you into the air and puts you over his shoulder like you weigh absolutely nothing.

His reaction is nothing he hasn’t done before, but there’s a heat in your abdomen that tells you that you’re going to call out of work tomorrow. Well, that, and the fact that Simon’s had a hard on for the entirety of the drive home and you really wanted to fix that problem for him. Bottom line is, you’re horny, he’s horny, it’s going to be a long fucking night.

It’s what you needed after around 7 months without being stretched out by Simon. It’s what he needed after watching you get touchy with someone who wasn’t him. If you didn’t end up sprawled out on Simon’s bed, incoherently moaning words as he fucked you dumb in 30 minutes, you were both going to have an issue.

As expected, when he got to the top of the stairs, he turned right instead of left, going into his room instead of yours. His room was mostly untouched, the comforter a little crumpled from the time you passed out on it after taking one too many blinkers a few weeks ago (you’ve found you really like being in his room when you aren’t sober).

He shuts the door behind him and drops you on the bed on your back, further disheveling the dark gray comforter. You push yourself up onto your elbows, encouraged by the rustling of Simon’s belt coming undone.

“Get on the floor,” he tells you, “on your knees.” You make an absentminded noise in response and shuffle to the end of the bed, sliding off with relative ease. He tells you to do something else, but you’re too absorbed in your own world to hear him.

Simon walks towards you, hand resting atop your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he sits down on the edge of the bed in front of you. “Not fuckin’ listening to me anymore, huh?” His grip on your hair tightens and he moves your head back and forth.

“You’ll fix that tonight, yeah?” He eyes you like a man starved, you can’t find the words to speak, nor can you move your head under the grip he has on your hair. He seems to take your silence as a ‘yes.’

Your eyes roam to his torso, to which part of you is disappointed by the presence of his shirt. Then, you look further down to the very obvious tent in his briefs. Your head goes to move closer on instinct, but Simon holds it back.

You struggle against his hold for a few seconds before sighing and giving up, looking up at him with a frown. He looks down at you, a cocky smirk adorning his lips.

“You need to learn patience,” he grumbles, pushing your head to the side and retracting his hand to move the waistband of his underwear.

Your head returns to its original position almost immediately, anticipation coursing through your body. You’re basically salivating at the thought of having Simon down your throat.

In all honesty, Simon should be grateful you were taught manners at a young age, because otherwise you would’ve slapped his hand away the second his head popped out of the dark fabric and taken him all for yourself.

In substitute, you shuffle closer to him, knees scratching against the carpet.

Simon pulls his cock out, finally, and gestures for you to have your way. You pounce on the opportunity, hands flying up from your sides. One settles on his thigh as a support as the other slips down, thumb pressing against the tip. You can feel Simon jerk under you from the contact, and it only makes you dart forward and press your closed lips to the side of his cock.

You part your mouth and flatten your tongue against him, dragging it upwards until you reach the head again. You let your mouth part further and take him in slowly, teasingly.

Simon’s hand grips your hair, pushing your head further down on his cock. A low groan escapes his throat as you take him in your mouth and his fingers twitch in your hair.

He bucks his hips up, watching as you take all of him in diligently without even so much as gagging. He doesn’t expect anything less from you. He keeps an even pace until the need gets to him, until the haze ends and he remembers why he has you on your knees; why he’s not supposed to be nice and even.

He picks up his pace, rutting into your mouth quicker than you can take, leaving you gagging on his cock as he holds your head in place. Your moans turn staccato, the sound of Simon’s balls slapping against your chin falls behind your stifled gagging. It’s a rhythmic disaster, but fuck, it’s music to his ears.

At some point, he stops thrusting into your mouth and simply pistons your head up and down his cock with a hand. You’re nothing but a drooling mess, looking up at Simon’s face through your eyelashes, blinking through tears. He appears to be the polar opposite of you. His eyes are calm and his lips are settled into a thin line; the only thing that lets you know he’s relishing in this is the twitching of his cock down your throat and the low groans he lets out occasionally.

That is, until his jaw sets and his grip on your hair gets tighter. His other hand takes a fistful of your hair as well and holds your head in place again, his hips thrusting forwards and retracting faster than you can even react to. Your hands fly to his thighs, nails digging into the denim as he ruthlessly ruts into you. You’ve given up on trying to breathe.

Simon’s mouth opens slightly, a shuddered breath tumbles out and your lips quirk up ever so slightly. “Fuck,” he hisses, dull fingernails scratching your scalp in a mind-numblingly good way. He bucks into you harshly, then again, and a groan feathered by pants fills the air as cum drips down your throat.

His cock is heavy on your tongue as he pulls out and you’re quick to dart back to it and lick small beads of cum off head. His torso spasms at the action and his hands yank you back by the hair. You whine, trying to wriggle loose of the iron grip the man has on you, but stop once he lets go.

Through labored breathing, he tugs you off of your knees and pulls you up to him. He falls back onto the bed, taking you down with him. You quite enjoy straddling over him, breasts dangling below you as your hands press into the mattress on either side of his head.

You give him a stupid smile, “out of breath, big boy?”

He scoffs at you, the only evidence that he just came in your mouth is his lack of a boner. “Don’t say things you’ll regret, love.” The pet name sends a swarm of butterflies to your stomach, (rather, your ovaries). His hands come out of nowhere, grabbing your wrists and holding them behind your back, suspending you in the air over him. “Don’t think I forgot what you like,” he muses, “what a slut.”

His eyes gloss over you, when he gets to your skirt and fishnet tights, he frowns. “Told you to take ‘em off,” he mutters, moving so that both of your wrists are held in just one of his hands. It’s both a blessing and a curse that he’s built like a tank. His free hand snakes down and tugs on the edge of your skirt, making you splutter out a few words of warning.

“Let me undo it,” you plead, “you’ll break it.” He looks at you unimpressed as you try to get him to not ruin your favorite skirt. He relents, miraculously, and maneuvers you to straddle over his thighs. You don't bother trying to take your time as you undo the inner clasp of your skirt before unzipping it. Your right hand grips his as you shift your weight onto your right knee while the left hand pulls the skirt off of you, then vice versa.

Simon’s patience runs thin when it comes to your fishnets, and pushes you down onto his chest by the shoulders. With your ass in the air, he simply rips the fabric until he’s satisfied. Now you’re even more horny, but you also have a giant hole in the crotch area of your only pair of fishnets.

He makes a noise somewhere between a grunt and an appreciative noise. “Better.” His fingers brush over your underwear, letting out a quiet laugh at the damp fabric. Your hips jerk against the ginger touches from his hands, making him pull his hand away.

A whine breaks through your throat, your lips pulled down into a pout. His eyes flick to yours, the look sending shivers of ecstacy down your spine.

“You don’t deserve that,” he murmurs. “Come on, you know the rules.”

You give him a pleading look, eyes straining to see his from your face-down ass-up position. “Please?” You know it won’t work, his resolve is entirely too strong to be folded by the likes of your begging.

You get your answer as he grabs you by the waist and tosses you to the side. Faster than you can even make a remark at, he’s looming over you, hips trapped between his knees, dog tags dangling down.

“Don’t try to beg,” he chastises, voice low. A hand moves your soaked underwear to the side and he gently presses his tip against your pussy. It’s nothing but a tease, but it has you squirming for more, and there’s a vicious little grin on Simon’s face that sparks something in you.

He doesn’t bother to warm you up, and, really, you would’ve been frustrated by having his fingers stretching you out rather than his dick. Is that a safe sexual practice? No; but right now, you didn’t care about that, you just wanted to get dicked down.

After what feels like an eternity of teasing (in reality, likely just about five minutes), Simon finally pushes the tip of his cock into you. He pauses, then slowly pushes inch after inch into you until he’s balls deep in you and you’re damn near rolling your eyes into the back of your head from the feeling of him.

It had been too fucking long since you felt him inside you, since he stretched your insides to fit his cock so perfectly that he mumbles compliments into your ears when he feels like being nice.

He stays buried inside your pussy and looks you in the eye, another challenge. “You wouldn’t let him do this, would you?” He asks, arms lifting off of your body to cross over his chest. “No,” he responds for you, his hands darting back down to grab your waist. “You’re mine.”

And, oh, that admission sends waves of giddy excitement through your body.

“And I’ll prove it.” It’s a rather ominous statement, but he doesn’t even give you the time to register that before he pulls out from you and slams right back in. Then again. Then again, and again, and again until a rough, even pace is set.

Even, however, is not what you wanted. You wanted rough, fast. You could mumble for him to go faster all you wanted, but Simon wouldn’t budge. If he wanted to, he could go as slow as he possibly could just to keep you frustrated.

But even Simon is only human, and he can’t resist the urge to rut into you with reckless abandon.

His hips jolt against yours, a muttered expletive turns into a pant of ‘fuck’ and barely contained groans as Simon all but slams into you. The sound of skin hitting skin accompanies the noises falling out of your mouth, Simon’s hushed tones, and the bed frames occasional creak to create a melody of pure lust.

You find yourself unable to hold yourself together any longer, thighs twitching and abdomen getting tighter as Simon continues to pound into you like there’s no tomorrow (would it technically be ‘no today?’ It is 2 in the morning, after all). You can’t even bring yourself to form the words before you’re cumming on Simon’s cock while it’s thrusting in and out of you.

A whine builds in the back of your throat, your legs tighten around Simon’s waist, trying to pull him closer into you as the heat builds in your abdomen. One of his hands lifts from off of your waist and runs through your hair.

“I can tell,” he manages to get out through almost undetectable grunts. “You’re barely hanging on, huh?” He’s taunting you. “Go on,” he mutters, shifting just enough for him to rub against you in an entirely new angle.

You make a collection of noises, a moan that devolves into a whimper, and eventually squeaks as Simon continues to fuck you through your orgasm until he eventually starts pouding into erratically, an uneven pace that only gets more and more mind-numbing until he’s pulled out of you and you can feel your lower stomach be painted with his own orgasm.

It’s just seconds later that he leans his head down and presses his forehead to your. A simple, but oh so damning gesture of intimacy. His breath puffs against your face, warm and quick, but you can’t help but lean into the touch.

🍒: @xaestheticalien @clear-your-mind-and-dream @stunkbiggu @abbiesxox @nijiru @lanu-la

#cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #mw2 x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x female reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley fanfic #simon riley mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader smut

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blasphemecel · 2 months

Text

Michael Kaiser, Shidou Ryuusei — Red

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader, Shidou Ryuusei/Reader WORD COUNT: 1.5k TYPE: Humor, Bad Flirting, Petty argument WARNING(S): tw Kaiser, tw Shidou

Kaiser is maybe pissed off or developing chronic depression (or uncovering a long going, underlying mental health issue).

Well, not to be overdramatic, but his life has fucking sucked ever since he came to this wretched place they call ‘Blue Lock’!

More like stupid shit lock, but he wouldn’t be caught dead saying something this immature out loud. Yoichi scored one more goal than he did — an entire goal, one of it, in surplus that is — and made a fool of him. Now Kaiser is spiraling and wanting to prove himself like a loser, when he’s the one who’s supposed to make others feel this way.

What is happening right now, in front of his very eyes, is egregious torture. Cinnamon to sauté the pear of anguish in.

He went looking for you in an only slightly creepy stalkerish way, which he already wasn’t happy about, since he had to walk around this soulless building and see too much of it at once. And when he finally finds you in one of the few communal spaces (gross, by the way), what are you doing? Betraying him by talking to Sae’s pink pervert and laughing. Your audacity to have fun while Kaiser is suffering is insolent. Ness should give you a yellow card for that.

Even if it’s below him, Kaiser can prove himself, though, both on the field and when it comes to strange rivalries with questionable undertones. He is better and more deserving of all attention, including yours, and he’s going to show you. He’s going to show you so hard, you’ll regret your ignorance so much that you’ll drop out of here and go back to school or whatever the fuck.

With this objective in mind, he reminds himself to act natural and walks up to you. In fact, Kaiser is confident no one has acted this natural before.

“Hi,” he says in an unnecessarily firm tone, with the most forced smile of all time. Maybe he should’ve come up with something before interrupting your conversation, now that he thinks about it.

Your heads snap in his direction at the same time with a weird synchrony. “Hi,” Shidou mocks, imitating Kaiser’s expression, going as far as to suck in his lips to make it seem more exaggerated and stupid.

Somehow, this situation strikes you as awkward, so you settle for staring at him expectantly. He probably had a reason to approach you, right?

“How… are you… doing?” Kaiser asks, ignoring the bug in favor of swinging an arm around your shoulder and leaning in way too close to your face. This is mostly an action meant to distract you from how strange he is acting. The only language he is proficient in is shit talking, so now he finds himself at a loss for words.

Shidou, however, is adept at smelling weakness. Without thinking twice about it — pathologically impulsive — he pushes Kaiser off of you, and his grin grows menacing. Now he’s the one draping himself over you, and he looks at Kaiser, who seems a bit caught off guard all things considered.

“We,” Shidou points a finger at himself and then at you, maybe attempting to insinuate something, “were doing great! And then the double-rat-tailed wonder came in.”

The who?!

Kaiser maintains a cheerful facade. “I don’t know if you’re aware because you seem quite stupid, but the point of a nickname is to be short. At least my hairstyle obeys gravity.”

“Wow, hear that? No way you like ‘em uptight and snobby like this guy, babe.”

“Really? Because I would’ve thought the vulgar type who treats the plays leading up to scoring a point like edging doesn’t suit you at all. Right, darling?”

Babe? Darling? May God touch these people’s wretched souls.

“Aww, you remember that? You watched me? Good times. I’m getting so popular.” Shidou lets go of you, much to your surprise. Then he stretches like a cat and yawns, overdoing it just to illustrate his boredom with Kaiser’s presence. “Anyway, forget about gravity. Pink is much better than blue-”

“No, it isn’t,” Kaiser argues childishly, crossing his arms.

“-We all know it! And what do you have in your hair? Blue. And what do I have? Pink.”

“This is stupid. They’re just colors.”

“Someone’s mad he doesn’t have pink instead of blue.”

“What? You’re so dumb. You know it’s not natural, right? I made the choice to dye it blue. If I wanted pink, I would’ve-”

“‘You’re so dumb. You know it’s not natural, right?’” Shidou repeats in a snotty tone, then throws you a meaningful glance and snorts, waiting for you to join in on the bullying. Apparently mimicking Kaiser is something he’ll add to his list of things he considers funny from now on.

You wonder if either of them have noticed you’re yet to speak at all.

“Well, what about you?” On cue, Kaiser addresses you. Are you seeing things, or is his eye twitching? “You understand opinions about colors aren’t objective, don’t you?”

Shidou perks up. “What do you prefer? Pink or blue? You love pink, right?”

“No, I bet you’re just… obsessed with blue. I bet it’s all you can think about, along with football, of course.”

“But isn’t pink so much more energetic and wild and cool and lovable?” Shidou flutters his lashes and strikes a pose as if he’s trying to act coy but in a manner so overt, it becomes clear he’s not really trying to sell his performance.

Are they even talking about colors anymore?

You shrug, deciding to treat the situation like a game. “I haven’t decided yet. Convince me which one I should pick. Get me on board.”

“I have a car,” Kaiser blurts out. Is this the only positive quality he thinks he has when it comes to his personal life? You don’t know if you find it funny or sad.

“So what?” Shidou asks, unimpressed on your behalf. “I’ve always wanted to hijack a car.” Then he wraps his fingers around one of your shoulders, overcome with excitement all of a sudden. “Let’s go on a date when this is all over and hijack a car! We could hijack his car.”

“See, he’s psychotic.” There is an arrogant smile on Kaiser’s face again.

“You’re also kind of crazy,” you say.

“There are no positives to being with him if you think about it rationally,” continues Kaiser, like he didn’t hear you calling his sanity into question. “Even if you wanted to be a deranged criminal, he’d just get you caught. Me, personally, I could plan it all out with you.”

Scratch that, he’s an overly willing lunatic who’s shielding his emotional dysregulation by talking about logic. Like that’s ever worked for anyone.

“So what if I’m impulsive? There are positives to being with me, duh!”

“I doubt it.” Kaiser’s skepticism is palpable.

Shidou’s gaze returns to you, so he can look at you straight on while delivering his next line. “Well, I’d give you a really enthusiastic massage.” Oh, this is the route he’s taking. Ok. “Jitter up your neurons like you do mine.”

“Do you even know what a neuron is?”

“Even a foot massage?” you ask, amused.

“Sure, I can do a foot massage.” Shidou remains carefree at the suggestion.

“Do you know foot reflexology?”

“No, that’s so boring.” You frown, just for the sake of seeing his reaction more than anything. Shidou tries to amend the situation, “I can learn?!”

“You can’t let him massage you anywhere,” argues Kaiser, and he seems quite offended by the notion. “He’ll probably do it wrong and fuck you up because he’s a brute. You’re gonna get injured.”

“Well, can the blue rose princess do any better?”

“Stop calling me convoluted nicknames. And maybe not, but I could hire a massage therapist with a five star rating or something. How’s that sound?”

“You’re such a robot! You’d rather be with a brute than with a robot at the end of the day, right, babe? Team pink wins all day.”

“How am I a robot?”

Gleefully, Shidou expands on his point with his grin turning even more devious, “It’s not about giving a good massage! It’s all an excuse to be all over someone. And by the way, you don’t seem cuddly at all. I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole.” His definition of ‘cuddly’ is probably questionable considering it includes Sae, but still.

“What! Yes, I am! Don’t talk about touching me, you moronic deviant!” Kaiser then deflates and seems a bit unsure despite the earlier conviction and aggression in his outburst. “I mean, if you think it’s an attractive quality, that is. But if you find it degrading, then I’m not huggable at all.”

Wow, they’re both suckers. You wonder how far you’ll be able to push it in the future?

#blue lock x reader #michael kaiser x reader #shidou ryuusei x reader #shidou x reader #kaiser x reader #bllk x reader #bllk x you

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mrsnancywheeler · 4 months

Text

finnick odair x sweet & oblivious!partner hc's

based off this request

masterlist

finnick usually considered how sweet you were one of the most endearing things about you

except when it was towards certain people who didn't seem to understand it was just your way, being so sweet, in a tooth rotting way, that they assumed you must be flirting with them

additionally you always assumed they were doing the same back even if their flirting was egregiously overt

someone could wink and comment on how nicely your jeans fit, yet you'd assume it was genuine, smile, and thank them even tell them where you got the pair

finnick was constantly in your ear telling you that people were hitting on you, which you'd laugh off and deny

you'd try and make an effort to be more conscious of it when you could see how much it upset finnick that other people would act like you weren't with him

finnick of course never blamed you, it was just how kind you were that would draw everyone in

he adored the sweetness though

the way you'd dedicate lengths of time to find or make something he liked, spend hours with mags and annie to keep them in good company, the way you'd softly take care of him if he wasn't even slightly feeling well, when he was sad you'd cradle him, kiss him, say the loveliest things he imagined a person could no matter how cheesy

"you don't have to doubt us, finn, I'd stay with you past the time when everything's dust, I'm never going to let you go"

"you're my everything, the sea, the sun, the moon, the air, the wind, the grass, the dirt, it's like the angels decided we were meant to be."

"I think I'd be yours in every lifetime and you would be mine, we'd always find each other."

you'd call him handsome, say he was hand sculpted by angels, what a pretty boy he was, literally any time you had the chance

your kisses were so soft, hugs so warm, finnick felt like he genuinely could lay with you for eternity

you'd write him cheesy little poems that would have him blushing and kissing you until you were giggling and kicking your feet as he peppered you with kisses

finnick couldn't understand how someone as sugary sweet as you were could ever love someone as damaged, as ruined as he felt

but if you even saw a glimpse of those feelings you'd fall into pure prose of how worthy he was of love and you could pour buckets of it on him every day

even if he had enough money to buy a new closet for any piece of ripped clothing you'd insist on stitching things back together for him, it's what you parents had once done for each other so you adored doing it for finnick too

nsfw - finnick also was enthralled by the times your obliviousness came into clutch for him, he'd see how far he could go before you even realized what he was trying to do to you, all the comments he could make without you realizing the intentions, it was always adorable when you finally did manage to catch on

you'd bake him his favorite sweet treats, make breakfast and feel guilty if he ever didn't wake you up when he woke and ended up making it for both of you

finnick loved it and seeing the way you insisted on doing anything else to make up for it

finnick would move the heavens and the earth for you and all your kindness, he could never do enough for all the things your big heart would do for him and others

maybe you thought he was made by angels, but he was sure you were one, in the flesh, his own guardian angel intent on showering him in love

#wanda 💋#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst #finnick odair x reader fluff #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x reader angst #thg #finnick odair imagine #thg finnick #finnick odair fanfic #finnick fanfic #finnick x you #finnick x reader #finnick imagine

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almacambiondaughterofsaleos · 5 months

Text

Octavia Is Sidelined So Much In Favor Of Stolitz

Despite being used as an example of how Stolas is really a good person and father, I do notice overtime her importance in the series has dwindled. Seriously, despite how the narrative wants us to think she is the treasured jewel of his life the execution would have you say that her father is more distracted by his boy toy due to how Vivziepoop has overemphasized the Stolitz ship.

Take for example is "Seeing Stars" where he neglects his daughter and breaks his promise to see the event he promised years ago, because he's so wrapped up in his divorce and even goes to insult her mother in front of her (even though he's said in the past he's tried to shield his daughter from the ugly parts of his and Stella's relationship). However, now that he's divorcing he doesn't hesitate to be as ugly with Stella as possible which shows how really good of a father he is. Also when she goes missing despite saying that Blitzo's dick isn't enough to quell Stolas's anger when it's his daughter is involved... well it actually goes like that, because both Blitzo and Stolas can't help but flirt and be flustered around each other this whole episode. Instead of focusing on his daughter, he again is on Blitzo's dick and even worse his daughter has to forgive him for neglecting her.

Most egregious one of the them is at the end of "Western Energy" where we have the emphasis on how this affects Stolas and Blitzo's relationships especially those texts talking about their fall about Ozzie's. However, we never get focus on how Octavia felt after her father fucking almost bit the dust, because in the next episode that Stolas is in he's okay and again you would think he would be injured a bit more to show how serious Striker is. But nope due to Vivziepoop remembering he's a powerful demon, he recovers in a day and we don't see Octavia at least be escorted to the hospital to see him because again Octavia is only there when she's a tool to make him look better and not her own character.

And now we get to the music video of "Just Look My Way" where Octavia's mentions in it are scrubbed in favor of Blitzo which again shows how the narrative is favoring his boy toy over his own fucking daughter who is supposed to be the center of his world and not this person he's given up so much for. Seriously, it's why if Octavia appears again I will not take the narrative seriously because we know that despite all claims that her father will get distracted from being a parent and ogle over Blitzo because he's a selfish pos and yet Octavia will be the one who has to learn to tolerate his bs because he's got the author's favoritism.

I really at the first thought that Stolas relationship with his daughter was sweet, but then I realize like so many else it really lost it's potential once you realize that Octavia is just a prop to artificially make it seem like Stolas is a good father when in actuality he's selfishly putting her needs above hers in a situation he caused. And it's a result of the fact that the writers are just using her as a writing tool and not a full character. She isn't needed until it affects Stolas and even then the Stolitz ship zaps everything around it so that any attention that Octavia is taken away. In a way, Octavia's fears were justified her father would run off and leave her because the writers are.

#helluva boss #helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism #vivziepop #anti-vivziepop #octavia #anti-stolas #anti-stolitz #stolitz #stolas #pro-octavia #octavia goetia #stolas goetia #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel critical

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