Thanks@cutiepiebean for requesting this! I hope you have a happy birthday/new years
Pairing: Crowley x reader
Pronouns: None
Summary: Crowley has been missing lately, and today being your birthday and New Years, you’re rightfully upset. Turn out he’s just been planning a celebration for you.
Warnings: Angst and anxiety in the beginning, mostly fluff, mentions of food
The house felt empty. It was too quiet. Crowley hadn’t been home very much in the past week or so. He’s a busy demon, frequently out and about making deals and running the underworld, but I had barely seen him at all lately. I had begun to wonder if he had lost interest in me. Maybe he had found another person that he liked more. Maybe that’s not true at all. Either way he had given no explanation of why he hadn’t been there. Especially today.
Today is New Years, which should be of less interest to Crowley because on top of that, today is my birthday. I had been waiting for him to walk through the door all morning. I had waited, mostly impatiently, for him to walk through that door, gifts in had and an apology at the ready. But it was already afternoon, and he had yet to appear. I hated this feeling. I attempted to lounge around and relax, but all I could feel was jealousy, and bitterness, and spite.
He let me dwell in those feeling before finally appearing in front of me a little before ten o'clock that night. His usually charming smirk made my skin itch, the emotions rising to the surface. He opened his mouth, likely in an attempt to slyly and sweetly greet me. I beat him to it.
“You’ve been gone all week. You gave me no information, no heads up, no nothing as to why you weren’t here.” My breathing was purposefully slow, voice carefully articulated. “My birthday is today. New Years is today. Yet you’ve been missing anyway. I don’t know what you’ve been doing, but you better be sorry.”
Crowley’s eyes widened quickly before he tilted his head downward. He kneeled on the ground in front of my chair, hand coming to softly grasp my chin.
“I know. I haven’t been particularly good about keeping you updated on where I’ve been, but I didn’t know what I could tell you. I am so sorry, truly,” Crowley smiled gently, eyes full of tender love. “I’ve been planning something for your birthday, for New Years. I didn’t intend to leave you by yourself so much, but this took a lot of planning. I love you, darling. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I love him too, but I was still emotional and upset at him. My face was blank, if not mildly unamused. At least I had an explanation now. His gentle smile turned into a gentle frown before lighting up again. He had an idea, apparently. His hands moved from my face down to my sides. He smirked before he began to rapidly move them, tickling me.
“Come on love, give me a smile, won’t you?” He laughed at my poor attempt to sit still.
“Ok! Ok! Stop!”
His hands ceased.
“I love you, but you also hurt me. A simple apology isn’t going to make everything better.”
“Of course not. I want to show you what I’ve been working on.” He stood and extended his hand towards me, an invitation for me to grab hold. “I spruced up that extra apartment I own, just for you.”
The demon took me to his apartment, and when he had said “spruced up,” he should have said “completely decked out.” There were string lights lining the ceilings, food covering the kitchen counters, soft pillows and blankets covering the bed, and several gifts set out on the table. Any resentment still left in me settled and melted away. Crowley wasn’t known to be the sentimental, caring type. He was typically cruel and sharp to most people. Yet for me, he would do anything. He tried his best to treat me well, and even though it didn’t always work, I love him for trying.
“Happy birthday, darling.” He gripped my hands in his. “I’m sorry I screw up so much.”
“Thank you. I know you try.” My smile shifted to a smirk. “I’m just glad you weren’t cheating on me.”
“I’d be dead if I did. Besides, I would never.” He stepped further into the room. “Where should we start?”
We spent the night celebrating, eating and drinking as we bantered. Midnight neared faster than it should have.
It was supposed to be an innocent Amazon purchase. A cowkini and cow-eared headband – just a little something to impress a certain special someone with. But all it took was for her to stand before her bathroom mirror to realize something was amiss.
“Wh-…what?“ Andrea’s hands moved to cradle her breasts. Just minutes ago, she was an A cup on the best of days – but now she was filling out the bikini quite handsomely. They were perfectly round, perfectly perky; together with her slender frame, she would have been perfect fodder for a fashion magazine. “I… something’s wrong,” she said, narrowing her eyes and leaning forward. Her boobs gently bounced against the palms of her hands. “I have never been this busty before…“
Maybe her chest heard her remark; maybe they were provoked as she gave them an exploratory squeeze. But in an instant, they began to swell even more – rapidly inflating like they were being pumped up with air. “EEEP!” Andrea’s shriek was coupled with a panicked step backward, but her hands kept themselves gripped tightly to her bust. Not that her grasp kept them from bouncing with her movements, of course. The way they swayed back and forth like pendulums made it obvious that they were natural through and through. If they were C cups before, they were venturing into watermelon territory by now.
“My boobs are growing! Oh my god! Oh my god oh my god oh my god-“ Though Andrea may have been the one panicking, her words would have been equally as fitting if they came from her cowkini top. Straps stretched until they were as taut as guitar strings, desperate to just keep up with her growth – and then they were promptly swallowed up by her rising, billowing flesh. Areolae escaped from beneath the triangles of cowprint fabric like water spreads outward from an overturned bucket. And all of this was to say nothing of the pressure; Andrea’s features contorted into pain as the straps dug deeper and deeper into her skin.
“Too much… too heavy…” Andrea’s backpedaling led her to collide against the wall behind her. Her eyes shot open. The mirror confronted her with her new reality: a cartoonishly top-heavy body that would turn heads and intimidate door frames. A long line of cleavage separated the two jiggling masses – which somehow never stopped quaking even though her hands hadn’t yet left their undersides. How could they? The soft sensation was just too exquisite; it was like she was holding her fingers underneath a warm chocolate fondue fountain. Breast blubber drooped over her hands like a blanket, layering on thicker and thicker, until-
SNAP!
The cowkini top split in two like it had been sliced with a sword. Straps fluttered through the air like bits of confetti – and her gargantuan tits, now freed from any kind of pressure, rounded out into their natural, satisfyingly-oblong shapes. They were big enough that they obscured her belly button, and wide enough that they could easily be seen from behind. “…oh my god, I’mmassive,“ Andrea moaned, her hands on top of her head; they had finally found something else to occupy themselves with. “I don’t think I could even reach my nipples if I tried…“
But just as she extended her arms, just as she outstretched her trembling fingers, just as she wanted to see if she could – her nipples (now the size of Atari joysticks) erected themselves and sprayed down her mirror like a pressure washer. Perhaps most memorable was the sound; it was not worlds away from how water batters the windshield of a vehicle in a car wash. Gallons of her product flooded the sink, poured off the counter, soaked into the grout between the tiles on the floor, and slipped between her bared toes.
The milk eventually died down, but not before forming a pool of milk that was ankle-deep. Andrea’s hands toured her new, gelatinous bust, kneading and squeezing every square inch. Her face sported so vivid a blush that it would make tomatoes jealous. “…w-well… at least I’ll get his attention now,” she said under her breath. Her eyes glanced at the remains of her cowkini floating in the milky tides. “I say this purchase was well worth it~“
“You’ve come on time… that’s a first, anon~!“ Even when it was a date, Kirika never abandoned her uniform. Maybe she adhered to club regulations at all times; maybe she had simply outgrown the rest of her wardrobe. But the way her nipples were tenting against the thickness of her yellow vest, she was probably already due for a new fitting. “They say that holding hands is lewd. But that’s exactly why I want to do it, you know?“
She tossed her banana peel into a trash receptacle and held out her hand. Though Kirika only vied for your attention, her charms always came with a blast radius. Patrons in a nearby restaurant peered over their newspapers or their cups of coffee to get a serving of her massive chest; one particularly transfixed waiter was absent-mindedly pouring an entire container’s worth of salt over someone’s fries. And who could blame them? Even so much as extending her arm left her beach ball breasts quaking through multiple aftershocks. If there was a bra somewhere under there (and there had to be given their spherical perk), it was about as flimsy as the peel she had just discarded.
“Awww, you’re so cute when you’re flustered, nonnie!” Kirika’s free hand moved to cup her cheek; her elbow nudged against her bust, further elongating the already-endless jiggling. “I just can’t help myself around you. I am dying to eat you up~!”
If it was foreseeable then, it was downright palpable now: Kirika’s figure wasn’t taking kindly to her uniform. Her vest – even as thick as it was – had begun to shear like it was being driven through a cheese grater. Slits of her pale, creamy flesh bulged through every gap they could find. It wouldn’t be much longer before the dam burst.
But you didn’t have to watch from a distance. Kirika took your hand in hers and tugged you to her side. Your head immediately impacted against an ample serving of sideboob; it would seem that her rack was doomed to an eternity of wobbling. “Whoops, silly me~,” Kirika feigned remorse, but the way she bore her teeth was like the grin of a cunning fox. “I may have the body of a supermodel, but I’m still pretty damn wide thanks to these honkers~!” The impression of her chest’s softness lingered far after your brief contact – though, perhaps it was just that a little of her sweat had adhered to your face in the same way her lipstick left marks on your skin.
But was it sweat? Or was it… was it something else?
“Now let’s get going already,” Kirika said, lacing her fingers around yours and tightening her grip. “I don’t want to be late for our reservation!”
If it was something else, she hadn’t noticed. But since your eyes were at the level of her boobs, it was undeniable: a duo of damp circles began to form on her vest, and they expanded slowly like pancake batter being poured into a pan. Your heartbeat quickened – and so did her body’s growth. The purple bow rounding her neck had begun to unravel, revealing a significant amount of perfectly symmetrical cleavage. The gaps in her top popped seams like popcorn, and more and more of her skin was pouring out from the fabric.
“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you that I took some expansion serum,“ Kirika finally admitted. “The restaurant doesn’t have the greatest drinks… so I figured we could just go hide in a bathroom stall and I’d quench your thirst~“
CONTENT: 18+. gender neutral reader. Peter is 20. desperate. pillow humping. sexually frustrated, fantasizing, hella horny peter. lusty boy stupidity. peter with a crush.
NOTES: inspo from this gifset. here’s an audio of peter moaning, and heres a porn rec of a guy thats vaguely like him in my opinion xoxo
WORD COUNT: ~1.4k
—
After a day with you (his favorite trainer) has thoroughly kicked his ass, Peter is many things, but most of all, he’s worked up. He needs his brain scrubbed clean of your encouragement and light laughter. Your fiery eyes raking over him, your soft taunts still ripple over his skin in waves. As it has been since the arrival of his powers, his physical condition is quite…changeable. Reactive. It’s most obvious on days like today, when his physical responses are heightened, and every hint of you gets him overexcited.
Today, he was taken down. A hot blooded, magic-infused unstoppable superhero boy was stopped by the skillful strikes and energy redirection of a knowing—and very human trainer, and hours later, he’s still hot about it. As he arrives back to his room in the tower, he peels off a shirt thick with your scent, and jumps directly into a burning shower that is a welcome balm to his fiery heart.
Muscles flex as he scrubs at sweat, at hairs that stand on end, and nerves that make him aware of each droplet impact that clings and falls. Dialed to 11, he once said of his senses, and he regards that fact with an exasperated sigh as one hand pushes suds through his hair…the other down to squeeze his cock, half hard and ignored for hours.
the vibes: husband thor. he’s happy and content and healed and loved. dad Thor. break your back thor. loves you like he’s always falling in love for the first time. his mom is alive.
note:this is just a lil thing for me to get back into writing. and i love thor and endgame was so wrong to him. so here! ♥️
warnings: a bit of trauma related talk. vague smut. mentions of his losses and feeling undeserving. mention of reader being pregnant with one of the children.
Warnings: NSFW. it’s not smut but uhhh, you’re still warned. not exactly dark Steve, but he’s not healthy. it’s not love, he doesn’t really care for your feelings. selfish, unhappy Steve.
A/N: I have no business writing new things with the requests and challenges and homework I need to finish but nonetheless… I hope you enjoy.
Post CW Post Nomad Steve, but nothing Thanos ever happened and he came back home to mend relationships.
-
The sheets are thin and white and transparent as clouds. They’ve fallen over the curve of your hips as the rain did over the Brooklyn streets and the roof of his apartment while he fucked you last night.
Bathed in both the golden dawn’s sunlight, and the scent of his own cologne and musk, you’re still sleeping alone in his California king, and he’s wondering when you should leave.
He hadn’t meant to go this far. Sure as hell didn’t mean to invite you over to his place… it was a vulnerable act on his part.
This wasn’t him, fucking pretty trainees who gave him the right eyes. But, he supposes, he doesn’t really know who he is at all anymore.
He knows he’s itching to be back on the road again. Steve, along with Sam and Nat, hadn’t been doing God’s work, but they were helpful, and it was on their terms.
There’s a freedom in lacking roots, in knowing how much you really need,and being able to pack up everything in a duffel in less than five minutes.
Now Steve’s some pseudo Avenger, living the unspoken promises that he’d stay long enough to help heal Tony’s bruised ego, and Bucky’s broken mind.
When he’s too tired to remember letting himself think it in the morning, his mind whispers…
“What about you, Steve?”
So he did it. He saw you at some lunch, and you were in some dress that showed off more than your training fatigues ever did.
You had trained for years, survived multiple invasions of New York, given yourself hundreds of pep talks, all to say you could work beside Captain America himself.
The moniker didn’t fit anymore, but the glory did.
The glory had you wrapped up in his every word, and gently pressing for conversation.
He doesn’t know how to tell you he’s not the patriot who went in the ice, or the same hopeful man that brought down SHIELD in the name of justice.
Yesterday though, he supposed it only mattered what you believed, when you looked at him with your bright eyes, that were knowing, but only enough to know he needed fixing.
What you can’t know, is that it won’t be you to do it. He’s not sure if anyone can help him.
The conversations you try to weave between hard fucks and obligatory cups of coffee are never going to be therapy.
But as he considers the shape of your ass and the wet spot made wetter from his cum still leaking from between your thighs, he realizes this is as close as it gets.
Phantom pleasure blooms warmth across his skin, instead of the sunlight, when he remembers the sounds of fucking you.
The gushing wetness that had you near embarrassed, the gasps when you felt his beard rough against your collar, the splintering deep snap of his headboard as it broke under the pressure he put it under.
He chuckles to the thought that you must think he’s fucking you hard. You’ll rush home and text your group chat that Captain America likes it rough, not knowing that whatever he’s balling up in his fists, or his poor headboard takes most of the force.
He’s careful with you and he can’t figure out why. It confuses him in the same way when he realizes he looks forward to having coffee with you.
But he’ll kick you out anyway. Maybe he’ll say the coffee got too cold. Maybe that will be true if he switches the machine off now.
He looks at your thighs, now spread. He remembers being between them, pushing them apart. Manhandling you because you love it.
He remembers grasping the soft skin of your lethal thighs, with his face between them, breathing in the sweet musk of you.
You melted when he rolled his tongue back and forth and around your clit, with three fingers inside you.
He knows your weak spots, he can pull you apart piece by piece, but what he doesn’t know is if that means you’re made for him, or if it’s time to let you go.
You’ve grown too sweet, too soft, too familiar, and when you whisper his name in the sheets, it sounds a little too much like love.
None of these things stop him from crawling back into bed…from pulling you closer…and from leaving the coffee machine on, because he’ll keep his moments with you even if the house burns down.
Matthew is sitting on the edge of the windowsill, clutching a battered green walkie talkie to his chest, when he realizes that he might have a problem.
A five foot seven problem with a crooked smile and braces.
“Breaker 1-9. Birdie, come in Birdie,” the walkie talkie rumbled to life and Matthew almost dropped it. “Do you have your ears on, over.”
“I thought we agreed my handle was Eagle One, over.”
“Birdie is cuter, over.”
“You’re full of crap,” Matthew said, even as he flushed. “Over.”
He could almost see Gilbert shrug on the other end. He knew it would look casual, easy, and just a little bit cheeky.
“I’m still right. Over.”
Matthew huffed and leaned further out the window but the street was empty.
“You’re still full of crap. And you’re late. What’s your 20? Over.”
“I’m still on Springfield, over.”
“That’s three blocks away!” Matthew readjusted himself. “I’m going to get caught, over.”
“Then lower your voice, over.”
“I’m going to get in trouble,” he hissed. “Over.”
“I’m coming, I’m coming.” He could hear the crackles and pops of interference as Gilbert hurried. “Start climbing down and I’ll be there to catch you. I promise. Over.”
“I don’t need you to catch me,” Matthew grumbled, tucking the walkie talkie in the front pocket of his oversized jacket and reaching for the tree branch outside his window.
The truth was, he probably did need Gilbert to catch him. His bedroom was on the second floor of his modest suburban home and the tree did not have any branches lower than eleven feet. Even if he hung off the lowest branch before letting go, he would still fall five feet and twist his ankle. Again.
He pulled himself into the tree and started climbing down anyway.
Matthew had more than one problem, really. He had several and all of them had something to do with his best friend. Gilbert made him reckless. Gilbert made him do things he would never dream of doing on his own. Like sneak out at midnight on a Thursday.
Gilbert chipped away at his reservations and made his knees weak when he smiled. He made him stutter and trip over his own feet. He made him blush.
Matthew was a mess when Gilbert was around.
But Gilbert also made him laugh. He made Matthew feel smarter and stronger than he actually was. He made Matthew feel like he could do anything if he put his mind to it.
Gilbert believed him when no one else would.
He always believed in him too.
Matthew did not understand where his unwavering faith came from but it made his heart ache. It made him want to be there for Gilbert. No matter what.
Even if that meant climbing out of his window on a school night.
Matthew focused on shuffling along the branch before lowering himself to the next one, and the next one. It was hard work and the rough bark of the tree scraped the palms of his hands. He was sure there were at least a dozen leaves tangled in his hair.
He turned to look down when he heard Gilbert approaching.
“It’s about ti-”
The branch underneath him suddenly snapped with his shifting weight and he was falling, falling, and oh, shit, this was going to hurt so much and he was going to be grounded for a month if he did not end up in the hospitaland…
Gilbert caught him around the legs with a quiet ‘Oof!’ and then he was falling again, forward this time, into his arms.
He landed on top of Gilbert.
“I, uh, are you okay?” He whispered a little too loudly, leaning back and looking for injuries.
Gilbert blinked up at him for a moment before a slow smile spread across his face. The moonlight glinted off his braces and, oh, Matthew knew he was still in trouble. He had always thought braces were ugly and embarrassing until Gilbert came to class with a mouth full of metal last year.
Matthew glanced at the walkie talkie in the grass to his left. Gilbert must have thrown it when he ran to catch him.
“You’re so full of crap,” Matthew snorted before he could not stand it anymore and he ducked down to press his lips against Gilbert’s teeth. His braces were warmer than he had imagined but, then, Gilbert was kissing him back and it was awkward and uncoordinated and a little bit perfect.
He never wanted it to end but he eventually pulled back to study his best friend. His ears were bright red and he looked a little dazed but he did not seem upset.
“I think I like you. Like, ‘like like’ you,” he said. Gilbert slipped his hand into his back pocket and squeezed.
“10-2. I’m reading you loud and clear. Over.”
Matthew knocked their foreheads together, a little too hard, before kissing him again.
Part of the anniversary drabbles! Author: Admin E Word Count: 1405
‘Hey Jacky, i’m home!’, you yelled as you slipped out of your shoes, your hand leaning against the hallway wall of your shared apartment for balance. You felt a bit drained from a long day at work until suddenly a delicious smell caught your attention.
You shuffled towards the place effusing the aroma that was curling into your nostrils, only to find your boyfriend in an apron and pottering around the kitchen. You leaned against the doorframe as you watched him reading a recipe out of one of the cooking books you got from your mom when you and Jackson decided to move in together. He was so concentrated he didn’t even notice you getting home.
You cleared your throat not so subtly so he’d snap out of his cooking bubble and find you watching him with an amused grin plastered on your face.
‘Oh? ____-, i didn’t hear you coming in baby!’
The wide, genuine smile you adored so much spread across his handsome face as he dropped everything to walk over to you an give you a proper greeting by pulling you into his strong arms and lovingly placing a kiss on your lips.
‘What’s all this for?’, you asked him curiously.
Jackson scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion as he leaned back to see your face, his arms still around your waist.
‘What do you mean what’s this for?’
‘Well you usually don’t c-‘
You stopped right in the middle of your sentence. Oh no. You didn’t forget another anniversary, did you? That’d be disastrous! You shuddered when you remembered the last time you forgot an important date… You bit your lip in agony as you waited for his reaction, but a very overexaggerated pout was the only thing that followed. That wasn’t too bad, right? Nothing like being tied to the bed and being denied orgasm after orgasm after orgasm for the rest of the night. Never again do you want to experience such torture.
‘Can’t i do something nice for my lady just because i want to?’, he sulked as he looked at you with those bright puppy eyes.
‘Ahw baby ofcourse!’, you cooed as you pinched his cheeks before pecking a quick kiss on his pouty lips. ‘You’re so sweet!’
‘Well yeah! ‘Cause that’s just the man i am, you know. You’re so lucky to have me as a boyfriend, doing all that stuff spontaneously without any hidden motives, i’m the be-‘
You silenced him with a finger on his lips so he’d stop talking for a second.
‘Okay. What’s your deal Jackson, spill it.’
‘Deal? What deal? I really am just doing this to spoil my pretty princess.’, he kept looking at you all innocently like that, big eyes, puffy cheeks, pouty lips. Yeah, he was definitely up to something.
You rolled your eyes and snorted as he skipped towards the kitchen again, pulled out a big plate out of the fridge and handed you a glass of red wine.
You took a sip as you leaned against the counter and watched him carefully.
‘Seriously Jackson, what are you up to?’
‘Me? Nothing babe, i swear. Here, have an oyster!’, he exclaimed excitedly, picking up the giant plate and holding it in front of your nose. Oysters. No kidding.
‘You…You bought oysters? Do we eat that? How do we eat that?’
‘Uhh…I’m not sure myself…I heard you need to do it like this, hold on.’
He put down his glass of wine to crack one open, revealing a blubbery mollusk inside the shell. You both stared at it with an unsure expression.
‘Okay, so…You need to get it loose from the shell…like this…and then gulp it down in one go.’
He brought the shell to his lips and let the blubber slide inside of his mouth. His eyes immediately widened and you could swear you saw him turning pale.
You slapped your hands over your mouth to keep yourself from bursting out in laughter when his expression continued to grow in horror.
‘How-how does it taste babe?’, your voice trembled as you tried your best to hold down a snicker.
Jackson kept chewing and turning the oyster around in his mouth and he looked like he wanted to throw up.
‘Delicious. S-so good.’, he managed to choke out inbetween disgusted gags.
‘Really? In that case i think you should have another one.’, you kept grinning as you started to crack open another shell.
You were having way too much fun with this. It’s his own fault for being such a bluff.
‘N-not necess-hmp!’, he smashed his hand in front of his mouth, trying to stifle another gag, but it was no use.
He ran towards the sink to immediately spit out the chawed oyster and yell ‘Gross!’.
You blinked innocently at him this time. ‘What’s wrong baby? Weren’t they that delicious after all?’
He glared at you for a moment before looking at the full plate of oysters laying, waiting in a mountain of ice.
‘Won’t you try one?’, he asked you hopefully, putting on his best puppyface for you again.
‘I think i’ll pass.’
He sighed in regret.
‘These were so expensive… I thought they’d be delicious, why else would they cost that much?! How can people enjoy those?’
You laughed and patted your boyfriend on the crest of his head. He looked adorable sulking like that.
‘Well, you tried. But why buy them if you don’t know whether we’d like it?’
His pout vanished immediately, making place for an alerted expression.
‘No reason! Just…wanted to try it sometime. Guess that one flopped huh, my bad haha.’
You furrowed your brows in suspicion again.
‘Jackson, you’re acting weird. I mean, you’re not acting like yourself.’
‘Nonsense babycakes! Let me just take this out of the oven, hold on.’
Babycakes? Something was definitely up and you were sure to go crazy if you didn’t know what in the next 10 minutes.
Now you knew what smelled so good it made your mouth water as he pulled the ovendish out and placed it on the cooking range. He made Chicken PiriPiri aka hot and spicy chicken. It looked so good and delicious you almost forgot your mission. But then it hit you.
‘Baby, this looks amazing but don’t you hate too spicy food? I see a lot of chilipeppers in there.’
‘What? Me? No, i love spicy food babe. Could eat it all day.’
‘You threw up once when we went for the spiciest korean dish in the restaurant.’
‘That place was very unsanitary, i just got foodpoisening.’
‘No you didn’t, i had the exact same thing and i was completely fine!’
And then it started to dawn on you. Red wine…Oysters…Chilipeppers… You thought deeply and the little gears in your mind were running at full speed. You were onto something.
‘Jackson…What’s for dessert?’, you asked, suspecting.
‘How did you know i-‘
‘What is it?’
‘Moelleux au chocolat…’
You gasped loudly and pointed an accusing finger at him as the last piece of the puzzle fell into place.
‘You’re feeding me hornyfood!’
‘What?! I would never!’
You remembered clearly now. Just last week you were reading an article in your favourite magazine about aphrodisiacs, food that sparks the sexual appetite. Oysters, chilipeppers and chocolate were definitely in that list.
‘You’ve read my magazine haven’t you?’
‘What magazine?’
‘Jackson!’
He held up his hands as he finally surrendered, giving up trying to hide his true motives.
‘Okay, okay! You’re right, i read your magazine. Thought i’d give it a try.’, he shrugged sheepishly, a halfly apologetic smile on his face.
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a giggle. It was sweet somehow, despite the fact he tried to trick you.
‘Baby…You know i don’t need all that to get in the mood…’, you softly said as you approached him further.
‘I know but…’
‘Why would i need oysters when my biggest aphrodisiac is standing right in front of me?
Jackson gulped but curled his arms around you nonetheless.
‘I’m only hungry for you’, you whispered before leaning in and crashing your lips on his in a heated kiss.
‘Good, because i don’t think i’d be able to eat that spicy chicken anyway.’, he grinned as you separated for a second to catch your breaths.
You chuckled amused. The lengths this guy would go to once he had his mind set on something…
Part of the anniversary drabbles! Author: Admin E Warning: Smut Word Count: +700
‘Are you almost done?’
‘Just a few more, stop nagging!’
‘You’ve already painted the entire field, can we go now?’
‘I’m almost done!’
Yoongi rolled his eyes in annoyance as he made himself comfortable, leaning his back against your neck and stretching his legs on the curve of your shoulder. His tiny wings fluttered a few times before he folded them on his back again. He was ready to go, but you clearly weren’t. He was getting tired of your impulsive ideas. First it was hanging out with that flying kid Pan Jimin and his own even more obnoxious fairy, Tinkerkook. Then you absolutely wanted to go swimming with the mermaids. Then you suddenly needed to paint all of the white roses you encountered red and he had to tag along all the time.
He didn’t like being in his Fairy form when he was with you, it made him feel small and unmasculine, but it was better than following you around everywhere and having to walk the whole time. He much rather took naps on your shoulder then.
‘I wanna go home ____-.’
‘Hmm?’, you hummed distracted while focusing on getting the red paint on your brush in every little corner of the white rose, ‘Why?’
‘So i can change back to a human and punish you for dragging me along all day.’
You giggled and ruffled his hair with your pinky. ‘You’re so cute!’
Yoongi’s eyes flew open and he grabbed your pinky, not letting go of it when you tried to pull it back.
‘Yoongi, let me go. I need to finish thi-‘
A blinding light made you squeeze your eyes shut, like you were trying to look at the sun directly. Yoongi’s small figure lit up like a fireball and grew in size rapidly. Sprinkles of Fairy Dust flew everywhere, causing the field of roses to shimmer like a diamond. The beauty of it was dazzling you. And then you suddenly felt a weight on top of you as the light weakened again.
Yoongi had you pinned down to the ground, your arms above your head and his stunningly gorgeous face hovering only mere inches above yours.
‘Yoongi I-‘
‘Listen brat, you’ve had your playtime for today. It’s my turn.’, he growled before crashing his lips on yours, his hands pushing your arms upwards to stretch them even more above your head, pushing your legs open with his knee to position himself between them. You felt something hard poking against the inside of your thigh as he kept you in place. You whimpered against his soft lips when he pried your lips apart with his tongue, sliding into your mouth to start massaging yours. He moaned softly when he felt your wet muscle curling around his and you relaxed visibly, letting him take you over completely.
He stopped kissing you for a moment so you could catch your breaths again. He released one of your wrists to cradle your face gently, though his eyes were those of a hungry predator.
‘You know how frustrating it is to not get any attention? I’ve been wanting to fuck you all day but you just had to prance around everywhere doing all sorts of boring stuff. And it certainly didn’t help sitting on your shoulder and getting the full view of your delicious, full breasts, seeing them bounce up and down when you walk, fuck…’, he groaned as he latched his lips onto the nape of your neck, where he was sleeping just a few minutes ago.
‘Yoongi…’, you whimpered when he started sucking into your skin, the electric sensations shooting through your body as he nibbled on your neck and grinded himself against your clothed clit, ‘Why didn’t you just tell me? Instead of sulking all the time-‘
‘Don’t talk back to me, you little brat.’, he growled as he bit down on your flesh, making you squeak in surprise. ‘I may be your fairy but don’t think for a second you can say and do whatever you want with me. You’re mine, not the other way around.’
His hand traveled southwards, his fingers crawling into your panties and softly stroking your sensitive little nub, wiping your mind clean of any thoughts.
‘I’ll show you who belongs to who right now.’, he whispered as he connected his lips with yours again.
Part of the anniversary drabbles! Author: Admin E Warning: Smut Word Count: +500
‘What’s your favourite color?’
It’s a common question. A question you asked the boy you liked when you were a child, to know if you had the same one, to get to know him. One you ask yourself when you want to decorate your room, or buy clothes. One he asks you, secretly, so he knows what kind of flowers he should buy you on your first date.
You didn’t know how to answer that question back then. Because whatwas your favourite colour anyway? You had so many favourites. Black, like his shiny, soft hair? Gold, like his gorgeous, radiant skin? Brown, like those warm eyes that made your heart melt into a puddle? You couldn’t choose and you said, ‘All of them.’, so he bought you white roses.
After that, many dates and roses followed, until you were ready to give him one single flower in return. It might seem silly, giving only one flower of your own in return to dozens of his, but yours was much greater in significance.
He was gentle, but strong. The warm, dark chocolate of his eyes boring into yours as you roamed your hands through his raven black hair. His caresses were soft, light as a feather as he placed fluttering kisses across your jaw, your face, your neck. Surprised gasps and staggered breaths escaped both your lips, filling the dimly lit bedroom as you explored eachother’s bodies. You didn’t expect anything else from your gentle, loving boyfriend, rolling his hips into yours ever so slowly, making sure you didn’t go through a single second of pain. He treated you like you were a precious porcelain doll.
That was until you grew addicted to the way he moved inside of you, how he filled you up so good it sent shivers down your spine. Soon, the gentle caresses and careful touches became needier, hastier, bolder. You needed more, like every time you did a shot, you needed twice the dosis the next time.
The fluttering kisses on your jaw and neck didn’t flutter anymore. His lips latched themselves on your skin, strong wet kisses at first. Then they grew bolder, teeth got involved and lightly took the flesh between them, biting down slightly, making you gasp in delight. Yixing quickly found it was your weak spot, he also discovered he loved to abuse it. Whether it was during a quick, public makeout session or in private while his hips relentlessly snapped into you, he had to have his lips on your sensitive neck, sucking and biting until your skin changed color.
He loved nipping at the small spot beneath your ear, licking up and down your jaw, sucking constellations into the nape of your neck to the point you permanently had to carry a scarf with you at all times to be able to cover it up. He loved the way you moaned when he took your flesh between his lips, tingling sensations shooting through your nerve system as he kept on sucking and biting, the way your nails dragged over his back, the way small beads of sweat streamed down your skin so he could lick up the salty liquid, at the same time soothing the deliciously painful bruise he inflicted. And you loved the way he relished in it.
So now, when someone asks, ‘What’s your favourite color?’
The words are aimed down a set of glistening silver tines at her, fork brandished over the breakfast plate like a saber. A pair of deep blue eyes pierce her from the other end, and she pauses a moment to sip at her tea, collecting her thoughts before replying calmly. “What price what, Prince Silvio?”
“Your price. How much to buy you.”
She nearly aspirates her swallow as it abruptly reverses course, tannin burning her nose as she chokes it back down and clears her throat. “Forgive the impertinence in stating as much, Your Highness…” It takes more effort than she’d like to admit not to put any additional emphasis on his title, to make ‘fuck you’ as diplomatic as she can. “But you seem to be laboring under some misconception. I am not for…sale.”
This was, by far, the strangest breakfast conversation she had had in a long string of strange breakfasts, since coming to this castle.
Silvio scoffs with derision after finishing his bite of souffle. “Everything and everyone can be bought, donna.” Setting his fork aside he dabs at his lips with a crisp linen napkin, before leaning forward and shooting her a crooked grin - teeth bared in a way that reminded her of the fact that dogs were only generations removed from wolves. And could be equally as ravenous. “It’s merely a matter of finding their price. That one thing they just can’t refuse.”
She lets the smallest bit of her ire slip, tugging the corners of her mouth down and her eyebrows up into twin arcs of disbelief. “And supposing, for one ridiculous moment, I did have such a price? You believe I’d just tell you it?”
On a languid shrug, Silvio slouches back into his chair, gaze fixed on her contemplatively as he toys idly with a pendant around his neck. Looking every last inch the disgustingly rich, disgustingly arrogant tyrant she knew him to be. “You wouldn’t be worth it if you did. But figuring it out is half the fun.”
Nothing, not faking her existence as Belle or the harrowing waltz she had to dance day in and day out to keep herself safe in this viper’s nest of a court, had ever filled her with the same sort of gut-wrenching dread as that last sentence did.
“I’ve never been perfect. I’ve never been… what other’s expected of me. But that didn’t matter… Because despite everything I had lost, everything that he knew, hehadstayed. ”
The words that left Tabbitha’s lips were agonized, her chocolate brown eyes flicking from place to place, her jaw tense and back a straight line. She didn’t talk about him, he had been so important to her yet she couldn’t bring herself to utter his name. She couldn’t bring herself to send his family a letter or call them, she couldn’t bare the thought of throwing out his worn down jacket. The memories that follows her over through the hiking trail and over the sandy water’s edge at the lake, through hallways and around backroads. Everything in Albion held an echo of him- of who she used to be.
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“C'mon Tabs! Just pick something and I’ll pay,” Alexander’s voice was full of laughter as he watched the redhaired Damphir, his body leaned against the shelves as Tabbitha glanced over the makeup, her iced coffee propped on her phone as she blushed, throwing the taller werewolf a glance, unable to hide the grin that filled her face.
“Anything I want?”
The Peruvian asked with some hesitation before she stood, looking at her boyfriend, chocolate eyes on his blue ones as she stepped closer, her darkly stained bottom lip pulled between her teeth. Alexander nodded, his own toothy grin reflecting her shy one as he gently ran his fingers across the guardian’s cheek. Stepping closer, the damphir pressed her lips to Alex’s, a brief kiss shared as loved poured from the senior student’s hearts.
“Then I want you to be my forever.”
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The memory flooded Tabbitha’s eyes as her stomach twisted into knots, in her hands was a carefully mailed invitation from Xander’s parents to his funeral, her heart shattering as the night replayed over and over within her mind. They had been in the United States over Spring break, their last spring break as High School students. At sundown Alexander had proposed with a simple ring as they stood against the water’s edge as the sea lapped at their feet. They had gone to a party to celebrate, a bunch of drunk humans packed into one flat… Tabbitha knew something wasn’t right but ignored it.
Then, someone pulled a knife on Alex. A silver coated blade, and Tabbitha froze.
The Damphir are the protectors of all species, from a young age each one is taught that their life is the first to go on the line for anyone else. This mentallity was not one that Tabbitha had, especially for those who she didn’t know and didn’t give a shit about her in return… But she had cared about Alexander and had sworn up down and backwards to protect him.
“I couldn’t even do that right.”
Brokenly, Tabbitha slipped the invitation within the locked diary she had, shaking hands reaching for the cardboard box of Camel Crush Silvers, pulling a cigarette out and lighting it.
“You’ll always be my forever, Xander..” The broken 17 year old whispered before she broke into a fit of sobs, the only answer was the echo of the home she’d been gifted as a going away present from her mother.
(This story is about my house knight Charlemont (Julien), who resides at @house-mercaiges. For the ease of organization for @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast, however, I will be posting this here to my main blog and simply reblogging it to Char’s, where it belongs.)
There is nothing to forgive, she whispered, petal-pale lips brushing ghostly and chill over my warm skin. Oh, if only it were true. Such a thing, such a lie, if there were only a sliver of truth inside it I would lose myself, cling to the shard of hope that somehow, some way, perhaps I was not guilty.
Lightning flashed outside, silent and blinding. For half a heartbeat the room went white and frozen. A sulfur and tin still life snapshot. Flowers wilted, dust gathered, and my voice died on my lips.
You could not have known, she insisted, and the world sank back into saturnine darkness. The lift of the light come crumbling into ash. I did know, you see, long had I overheard the secrets of the woods, hummed along to the warning hymn I knew from childhood.
Thunder bubbled up from malms away, low and hungry, and swelled into a devouring, starving thing. Yes, devour me, I thought, me and all around me. This house, its very foundation, the woods themselves. As if I could invoke such power. As if thunder had such strength. It is in silence, rather, the gentle quietude of the star-dark and glowing beams of the sun, that power lies. In the whisper of her voice.
I love you, Julien.
Oh, that voice. Reader, know that even in death, even in phantasm, her voice was honeyed wine, sweet and quickening to my very soul. It haunted and inflamed me; the ache in my bones, the ache in my blood, the ache in my heart and between my legs drew me all at once in a rush back to her face. Diaphanous and pale. Spectral. Beautiful.
No, I would not be forgiven for not saving her. Not in this life. Only in the bittersweet falling asleep.
I wanted to address something regarding the latest comic release.
I know a few of the fandom were disappointed by the conclusion. Alot of us had presumptions about how characters should have been written & how the comics tie into the lore.
It is valid to not agree & have criticism against the the recent comics, not everything was perfect.
But I cannot stress this enough, PLEASE KEEP IT CIVIL. Constructive criticism and flat out harrassing & being rude are two different concepts. I know the franchise is very special to some people and it deserves respect. But the people who take time and resources to produce content also do.
I am surprised that the franchise is still getting content especially at such rough time. I want to continue to support what I love in the most respectful way possible. My greatest fear is that the fandom becomes toxic and unwelcoming, and I don’t want the relationship between fans and writers to become strained (SU fandom ex.)
As the gloves glide slowly over Janus’s skin, every finger and scale revealed, he suddenly feelssomethingagain. He feels seen and seen through and naked, and it is the best and the most frightening experience in a long time.
“See. Much better this way,” Patton says softly, his breath vibrating beneath Janus’s cheek. “Now, you can tell me what’s bothering you.”
The pathological lie is already on the tip of his tongue, ready to deny. But without his gloves Janus can’t spit it out. He just can’t.
And then there’s Patton.
He of all people.
Patton, who is as different from Janus in every way as one can be. Patton, who is loud and honest, and sunny and kind, who makes stupid dad-jokes and likes frogs. Patton, who has not the slightest idea what he is getting himself into when he takes off the yellow gloves. Patton, who is warm and firm and real under his fingertips. More than anything else, he is real. Not a lie.
Janus shakes his head, lips tingling and heart pounding. He is sure that Patton can feel the frantically vibrating heartbeat against his chest. Everything in Janus’s traitorous body yells at him that this moment might be the most important moment in his life. There’s no way to deny it. Not anymore.
M for mildly Mature, read at your own risk! Jude/Cardan Drabble from the Cruel Prince by Holly Black
—
She sees him only in glimpses. A black coat striding around the corner. A distant form on a cantering stallion, stiff and tall. Long, thin fingers curled around a blood-red glass. A flash of pointed teeth.
He lounges on the throne, his boots up, as she entertains a messenger from the Unseelie. He slaps an ambassador for no reason at all, and then sits back to let Jude clean up the mess. He comes drunk to his first feast and, laughing, yanks the tablecloth. The plates and glasses shatter like ice across the marble palace floor.
He has a nixie on his lap when Jude tries to discuss trade with him. Jude ignores the sucking sounds of the nixie kissing his neck as she rattles off the benefits and negatives of possible deals, coolly looking at him as she gives him the various options.
“Do what you want,” he says, slicing the nixie’s dress off with a casual flick of his dagger.
Jude laughs drily. “I wasn’t asking your opinion. I was informing you of mine.”
His hand slips between the nixie’s thighs, and Jude doesn’t react. He says, “Tell me, have you had any contact with Madoc?”
The nixie moans, and he watches Jude, searching for a reaction. She doesn’t give one.
She tells him about her father while he fucks the nixie with his fingers until the nixie squeals and falls back. Jude watches, refusing to give in. He wants her to order him to stop, but Jude hasn’t given him an order since the coronation.
He wants her to leave, but Jude won’t give him the satisfaction of driving her away. This is her palace. For a year and a day.
When she finally leaves, the nixie is gone, and he has heard everything she has done in his name. Every ruling she has made. She leaves when she is good and ready.
—
She fights his knights in the mornings, training. They beat her most mornings, leave her with bruises and stronger muscles. Slowly, she improves. She is faster. She is more instinctual. Her muscles begin to remember battles she hasn’t yet won.
She wakes up angry one morning.
The knight is red-haired and lithe, a scar across his cheek. She doesn’t know his name. He almost knocks her to the ground, but she flips. He isn’t ready. Their swords clash, and he slips past her defenses, nicking her arm.
She gets angrier.
Her sword is a blur, parrying and sliding in, slicing his collarbone. They keep fighting. The knight overcompensates, and she slides into his space. She smashes her forehead in his nose, smashing it. Her knee comes up into his groin. He crumples. She steps on his sword hand, forcing it flat.
He gasps up at her, sputtering, as her own sword comes to rest between the knight’s watery eyes.
She looks up, sees him standing in the door. His black eyes are wide, his lips slightly parted as he stares at her. He feels a sort of fear, she can see. But there is something else in his face, something wild.
He turns away, disappears back into the castle they share.
—
He tries to provoke her. He enjoys getting under her skin. He fucks in front of her. He offers her faerie food, and then bites into it so that she watches the red juices run down his lips.
He begins inviting Taryn and Locke to the castle, partying with them. Taryn gets too drunk on faerie fruit while Locke watches.
Jude is forced to send Taryn home. She is spinning and skipping and somehow still in it enough to hurl insults. Locke follows, laughing. Jude stands at the door, to angry to show her anxiety as her sister disappears into the night.
She turns back, her mouth open, and she can see the gleam in his eyes.
He wants her to give him an order. He sees she is about to, and the smirk is already forming.
She understands, for the first time, how power makes you powerless. This time, he has nothing to lose. This time, she has the power.
And to use it would be to let him win.
To use it would mean he had power over her.
—
She is tired. Everything went wrong that day. There were a thousand problems, a thousand complaints. Everybody wants her energy, her decisions, her guidance, and nobody likes what they hear.
She needs him to sign a contract, and cannot find him in the cellars where he likes to get plastered or the parlors where he lounges and breaks things. She knocks on his door.
“Come in,” he says.
He is standing in the window, naked. There is nothing intimate about his nakedness. He is too chiseled, to perfectly, smoothly pale. Like a statue that feels no touch. He looks cold.
He is smirking by the time her eyes reach his face, satisfied with the hesitation in her step, the way she loses her train of thought.
His smirk burns her. She is too tired for these games.
“Can you sign this?” she asks.
He walks towards her, takes the contract without touching her hand and places it against the wall. He bites his thumb and slices the skin, signing his name with a swirl of his bloody thumb.
He grabs her chin harshly. “You’re a mess today.” He lets go, leaving a smear of blood. His fingers weren’t cold at all. They burn her skin. “Look at you,” he says harshly. “Worn out already. Mortals don’t have the stamina. But you wanted to rule, and rule you do.” He laughs. “Oh, what they say about you when you can’t hear. And what they say to your face.” He chuckles slightly. “This is what you asked for, Jude.”
She stiffens, and her body brushes against him. She jerks back, but he is still there, in her space.
“Pathetic, they call you. Weak.”
They don’t call her weak. They call her Kingmaker. She knows this, but in his voice, it feels true. She feels weak. She is going to order him–
“Hopeless,” he adds.
– she is going to make him obey, make him shut up, she isn’t weak, “I’m not weak. I have power over you,” and oh he gleams. To verbalize the threat was a display of weakness, and she knows it.
She will order him to be quiet, she won’t let him speak for a week. She will, she will, she opens her mouth. She orders, “Kiss me.”
His eyes are feral as he moves in, joyful and violent. His lips touch hers. She has lost.
A blind mermaid lives in what they think is a magnificent coral reef, surrounded by friendly sea creatures. In reality they are in a boneyard surrounded by hideous sea monsters. The monsters decided to play along until their leader can find her real home.
Plot twist: the mermaid is well aware that something is off. They just don’t care because everyone is so nice, and they can enjoy a little chaos as a treat.
Anyways, it turns out their real home was with the creatures. Found family trope activate.
THIS BLOG IS STRICTLY 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. MINORS AND ANYONE WITHOUT AN AGE INDICATOR WILL BE BLOCKED.
My fics all contain explicit/NSFW content. Please read series warnings.
Series
The Renewal - Dark!Loki x Reader (in progress) You volunteer for a cruel Asgardian ritual to protect someone you love. Armed with only your magic and hunting skills, you fight to turn the tables on those in power. In accepting this task you agree to sacrifice your life, unknowingly to the God of Mischief.
The Lake House - Dark!Bucky Barnes x Dark!Reader (Complete) You decide to spend the summer before Freshman year of college with two of your girlfriends at one of their parents’ lake house. It turns out that Captain America and his two best friends are staying next door. Bucky thinks you might be his perfect girl. But are you too perfect?
The Grey Zone - Dark!Alpha Steve x Dark!Beta Reader, Simp!Alpha Bucky x Dark!Beta Reader (Complete) Nick Fury has handpicked you to join Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes in the field. But these two Alphas have a problem with a Beta being on their team. They make it their mission to get rid of you and may have bitten off more than they can chew.
Shattered Doll - Dark!Stucky x Reader (Complete) Steve and Bucky think their innocent downstairs neighbor is the perfect girl to add to their marriage, whether she likes it or not. But bringing strangers into your home can come with unexpected and shocking consequences.
Matryoshka - Yelena Belova x Reader; Dark!Stucky x Reader (in progress) This is the sequel to Shattered Doll. Eight months after you escape the horrors of being held captive by Steve and Bucky you’re finally pulling your life back together. That is, until a new revelation.
City of Gold - Dark!Bucky x Reader (in progress) New Hope is a shining city on the hill, rising out of the post Snap nuclear wasteland. Prosperous and without need, it is ruled by an oligarchy formed out of the remaining Avengers. When you and your sister are hunted down in the Badlands because of your powers and brought back to New Hope, you catch the eye of the city’s feared chief enforcer - Grand General Barnes.
Ransom’s Revenge - Ransom Drysdale x Reader (in progress) Ransom hates his new summer intern Hunter and the feeling is mutual. Ransom decides to put Hunter in his place the worst way he knows how – dicking down Hunter’s mom.
Fast Cash & the Law - Dennis Baker x Stripper!Reader; Dark!Andy Barber x Stripper!Reader (in progress) You’re just a cash strapped student trying to make it through law school. But you end up catching the eyes of a dorky well-mannered client and an obsessive professor.
