I hope I made it under the wire! Can you use this prompt for Flip, please? βSay my name. Keeping saying it. And when you think youβve said it loud enough, scream it. I want everyone to know whoβs making you feel this good.β Thanks, Z!!!
Anonymous said: βIβm your husband. This is my job.β Please with Flip. Iβd love it if you could do this one, but make it playful and smutty! Omfg I loved Hide Your Smile!!! Sorry youβve been dealing w haters recently. Youβre amazing!
(multiple orgasms, sloppy rough sex)
Heβs got you wedged between his body and the wall, Flip does. Caged in, stomach pressed up against the smooth wallpaper, hands desperately seeking purchase. The pattern makes you dizzy, but youβve got your eyes closed anyway, mouth dropped open, throat clicking from drool as Flip sucks on your neck, bites at your shoulder.
Youβre getting the fucking of a lifetime, as his front is flush against your back, his cock buried to the hilt.
Neither of you are naked, and you regret that so strongly because youβre sweating up a storm in your pretty clothes, in your matching outfits as fat tears of pleasure roll down your cheeks. Heβs fucking come back into you, thick ropes of his own load coating his cock. Heβs three orgasms in so far, but heβs still hard β you keep him hard, keep his cock stiff, and if itβs stiff, heβs fucking you with it.
βFuckinβ β oh my god honey.β You babble, cheek squished against the wall as he kicks your feet apart. Your knees keep involuntarily closing to try and trap his cock inside you, but heβs not done, not done thrusting hard into your pussy.
βI know, I know, tell me about it ketsl.β He grunts out, deep deep deep voice sending shivers down your spine from where heβs marking you up all over, teeth lips tongue bruising your exposed skin.
βI β I β I β Flip!β You cry, hiccup out as you push yourself back against him, sloppy, so sloppy, sticky and soaked through.
You donβt know how many times heβs made you come β five? Six? They all seem to blur together, a fireworks display inside your cunt and rattling around your skull as he drags his cock against your walls. He feels huge, feels impossibly big and thick, hot hot hot as he pulses more come into you with a grunt, the sound of it splattering onto the floor a sick symphony in your ears.
βSay my name. Keeping saying it. And when you think youβve said it loud enough, scream it. I want everyone to know whoβs making you feel this good.β He pants, voice thick, and you throw all inhibitions to the wind and do exactly as heβs told you.
βYouβre so mean β awful β oh!! Oh Phil Iβm gonna die β Phil, fuck! Phil!β Your shut eyes squeeze tighter as your knees give out, as you come again on his fingers as they roll your clit while he dumps his come inside your pussy, makes a mess out of you, a sloppy filthy mess, squelching with a mix of your come.
βCanβt die, not yet baby, not until I get another one out of you.β He shakes his head and you wail, sob sob sob from pleasure at the thought of another one.
βB-but β yes! Oh Phil, please, please -- !β You whine cry beg, not even really knowing what it is you want, what it is youβre asking for. Whatever heβs giving, whatever heβll give you, you want it, and more.
And he does, he does give it to you, holds you up when your legs shake so badly that they canβt support you anymore, follows you down onto the ground and lays you gently on your back so he can hike your legs up over his shoulder, can stretch your pussy around his cock from a new angle, and you come again with his name on your lips.
Only then does he finally begin to slow, thrusting more gently with each roll of his hips, until heβs just moving out of habit, body on autopilot whenever heβs got the opportunity to fuck his cock into you. He kisses you gently, so sweetly, cigarette breath clouding your head, making you smile.
The only thing you can really do is smile, blissed out of your fucking mind, arms too pleasure weak to even lift them and card your fingers through his hair. He looks so smug, the sonofabitch, and he has every right to be. All your nerves are trembling, your muscles fluttering, your vision still nearly entirely whited out.
βI canβt move, and this is all your fault.β You giggle, riding the high, and he only licks his hips and kisses the corner of your mouth, watching the way a smile lights up your face.
βIβm your husband ketsl. This is my job.β He struggles himself to reach up and brush your hair away from your eyes, sweat-sticky and piecey from the pounding he gave you.
Your giggles turn to embarrassed groans as you try and hide under his chin, reality slowly slowly slowly coming back to you.
Youβre on the floor, of your friendβs guest bedroom, after having snuck away from a dinner party, which turned game night, which absolutely everyone most likely stopped to listen in on whatever the fuck you two were doing up there.
βWeβre never gonna get invited over again.β You bury your face as laughter shakes through you, and Flipβs deep rumble wraps around you in a warm embrace.
βKetsl youβre out of your mind if you think they donβt want a piece of this action.β He replies with a roll of his eyes, and you wish you had the strength to swat at his arm, but a kiss to his lips will have to do instead.
2k; Content Warnings: NSFW (Temperature play [ice cubes and hot wax], praise kink, body worship, begging, PIV, multiple orgasms, orgasm delay, mild lactation kink if you squint lol)
You and Kylo are so similar, in so many ways. You share a passion unmatched my any that the kingdom has ever seen, you share likes and dislikes, music and food and clothing all to the same taste. You are both revered by the people, adored, even those you take prisoner cannot be mad at you for too long. Yes, you are so similar, and that is something for which you are grateful.
However, there are differences, because of course there are.
Kylo rules with an iron fist, with an explosive aggression that takes his enemies by storm. He is loud and ruthless and cruel, unrelenting to those who oppose him. He leaves no survivors, leaves no home standing, flames licking into the night sky with reckless abandon, as his war cry echoes through the burning valleys.
You are quiet, clever. You rule with firm precision, with calculated moves, with sharp eyes and a silver tongue. Your enemies do not know when they are killed, only that they are dead, and it has been by your hand. Your charm runs cold when confronted with those who oppose you, the warmth drained from your presence so that they may feel the errors of their ways frozen deep in their bones. Β
Where Kylo is fire, you are ice.
Funny that it should work out that way, Kylo thinks, as your back arches up to meet the cubes of frozen water he dangles above your stomach.
Sparkling blue waters, crystalline and deep. Kylo stares into them, into the ancient bend in the canyon there, and lookinβ back at him his reflection blinks. The waterβs so still that it looks like itβs supposed to be made of glass, smooth and delicate. That ainβt no river, Kylo thinks to himself when he wades in, canβt be. No, surely it must be some kinda mirage out in the Arizona desert, a place like this couldnβt be real.
When the water ripples around your naked body just some feet away, heβs pretty damn sure you couldnβt be real neither.
Run-through: On Friday nights, you are punctual to your virtual meet-up with your favorite camboy over a streaming platform, for your private stream session. Youβve known him for a couple of months now. He goes by the alias of βWinter Soldierβ on the platform, which is perfect for the kind of man he is; brawny and drop dead gorgeous. Over the past few months, he has become your favorite kind of night. And secretly, you became his as well. You two get closer over time, and things get interesting when your real, professional lives gets intertwined.
Themes throughout the series: sex worker!bucky, smut, phone sex, fluff, language, dirty talk
James Buchanan Barnes walked into your office not even a minute after your assistant walked out. And you took one look at him and your jaw almost dropped to the floor.
Run-through: On Friday nights, you are punctual to your virtual meet-up with your favorite camboy over a streaming platform, for your private stream session. Youβve known him for a couple of months now. He goes by the alias of βWinter Soldierβ on the platform, which is perfect for the kind of man he is; brawny and drop dead gorgeous. Over the past few months, he has become your favorite kind of night. And secretly, you became his as well. You two get closer over time, and things get interesting when your real, professional lives gets intertwined.
Themes throughout the series: sex worker!bucky, smut, phone sex, fluff, language, dirty talk,
πΈ HC requests: Reader taking care of Werewolf!Clyde while he's sick?
Oh I like this! Yes he deserves LOVE. HE MUST BE CARED FOR
Instincts: engaged
Clyde very rarely actually gets sick. His naturally higher body temperature tends to lend itself to fighting off viruses and colds, and his natural stamina and such means in general heβs rarely knocked down if he gets a sniffle
When he does get sick though
ITS A WHOLE ORDEAL
For one thing, he gets very very very very pouty
Heβll get that typical Clyde grumpy pout on his face x 100, and his whole face gets washed out and dazed-looking. Heβs naturally awful pale, so sickness makes him take on this very sickly tinge and very unsteady step
The biggest problem is that his body naturally tends towards trying to get him to shift into wolf form when heβs sick, for some unknown reason. He says it might be because the act of being human is more difficult to keep up than the act of being a wolf, so itβs kind of like...his ability to fight it off is down
You reassure him he should do whateverβs comfortable, so youβll often leave him tucked up in bed and human for a few minutes and come back to find him as a wolf, whining and sniffling
Usually when this happens youβll put on the TV in the bedroom for him and grab some nice blankets, tucking in his big wolfy form and making him a comfy nest. He likes to have his head propped a little so he can watch the TV without his big snout getting in the way
He likes you heating up soup in a bowl for him and letting him lap at it. Heβs careful not to make a mess, but you usually grab him a towel from the bathroom to tie around his neck to keep from getting any splashes in his fur
Clydeβs eyes will get awful hazy, and heβll mostly just want to doze in and out - but you being there is something he will try to coax to happen. Heβll whine for you, paw for you to come and snuggle up with him
Bury his head in your chest and snuffle, trying to clear his throat a bit. His sneezes and coughs are sort of adorable, but sadly tissues donβt really cover it - so you get him some old towels to use as tissues, which he will go through like CRAZY
Itβs possibly one of the only times in Clydeβs life where heβs too sick to be horny, and THAT is a weird time. He might get hard from spooning you, but his energy and interest in that department is waaaaay down
If youβre a wolf, too - he also LOVES when heβs in his human form and you shift into your wolf form and cuddle up with him. Loves how soft your fur is on his bare skin: how it feels like the softest, plushest blanket on his shivering skin
He loves when heβs wolfy, tucked up and youβre petting his ears. Sniffling, heβll whine lowly and softly, falling into a gentle snooze
Heβll whine in his sleep when heβs sick in every form heβs in. Heβll make this sad sound, this really heartbreaking wheezy moan that he canβt help. He describes it as totally unconscious: his body just registers heβs wounded and needs help when heβs in and out of sleep, and doesnβt really distinguish that heβs okay, heβs just sick
Itβs much better when youβre there, though. He knows his mate will take care of him, and he doesnβt have to subconsciously worry about other wolves coming after him or being too wounded to hunt properly
His mate will hunt down some soup for him and a lovely nest, and everything will be ok
Pairing: Stucky x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: Steve dumps you and regrets it. Bucky picks up the pieces.Β
Warnings: SMUT. Threesomes. Cheating (ish). Protective Steve. Injured! Reader. Violence. Bucky being a goof. FLUFF.Β
A/N: Post Endgame. Steeb doesnβt go back in time like a dumb fuck.
He loved you far too much to keep you.
At least, thatβs what Steve tells himself.Β
Multiple times and in multiple different ways.
This had been three years post-Snap. Three years that he had dedicated to therapy and support groups, and you became something of an afterthought. Physically, you were together. Heβd make you come, and youβd return it in kind, but he couldnβt let himself open up further. The Snap had left him winded - left him muddled and shattered.
mirrorball by taylor swift, ilysb by lany, this ainβt love by lola amour
aksjdkdbeks is this any good? idk
YOU WERE ALWAYS listening to something.
A pair of headphones would be perched around your head as you walk outside your apartment and cross the street. Or, a pair of earphones hidden by your palm over your ears as you sit through a boring lecture. Bluetooth speakers or a vinyl record player when you felt lovely and wanted a slow romantic dance with your shadow instead of a hardcore dance on top of the couch.
Keigo knew all this because he would always see you on the sidelines, smiling or musing to the melody in your head.
Itβs like you were this yellow colour amidst the blue and gray of the city buzz.
******* this is really awful Iβm not really proud of this one but I also struggled for two days trying to write it. So EFF it. I tried therefore I should not be judgedβ¦or somethin XDDD
December was a rainy month. The streets were practically flooded with rainwater and sleet, hail as well as raindrops assaulting the roof of the house at regular intervals. Each pang against the roof felt like a comet, so wretchedly annoying and irritating to listen to, day in and day out.
The annoyance of the hail didn't go unmatched, however, as a certain winged hero could give any natural anomaly a run for it's money when it came to the factor of irritating people.
Keigo's voice was always rough in the mornings, an octave lower than his already gravelly tone, which wasnβt helping the situation at hand at all.
β(Name),β The older man groaned, his warm hands wrapped around your midriff. Fingers intertwined like a basket weave around your middle, his hands locked together to trap you within his embrace. "Donβt go, sweetheart, the streets will be safe without you for a day.β
βKeigo,β You groaned, your nimble fingers working to unwrap his arms from around your body, βIt's less about keeping people safe, and more about making them feel safe.β You turned your head, a smile tugging on your lips as you looked down on your tired loverβs form. βYou know this, baby.β
The manβs face colored at the pet name. Slamming his head into the pillow, he screamed dramatically.
You giggled shortly. βYouβre acting as if you're a child, my love.β
βDon't care, youβre leaving me,β Keigo whined airly, fixing you with huge, pleading eyes. βPlease, princess, just one day?β
βNo, I have to go today. Go back to bed, honey, and when you wake up, I'll be home.β You offered, rubbing your left eye with the back of your hand as you stood to get dressed.
Your boyfriend huffed. βFine, be safe, and if you die, I'll kill you,β He jested, his chapped lips curled into half of a smile.
You sighed, slipping on your tshirt. βWhat am I gonna do with you?"
β³Your ex boyfriend makes a surprise visit after an unexpected breakup.
Pairing: Takami KeigoΒ x Reader
Warnings: Gender-neutral reader/pronouns, angst, post-break up hurt, emotional hurt.
Word count: 1.2k
Conan Gray Lyric Starter Prompts:
>Β I got nothing to offer
>Β Iβve gotten tired of the games that you play
>You tell me you love me then you throw me away
β
His words rang around repeatedly in your head. The look he held permanently etched into your brain, if you shut your eyes for too long the memory would flash against your eyelids. There was no forgetting, no moving on. Not when there was no closure.
βI got nothing to offer,β he grimaced, hands tucked into his pockets he couldnβt even look at you, βOkay? And you donβt want me you just think you do.β
If you ever, and I mean EVER think that you fucked something up royally, remember that the organizers of the 1904 Olympic marathon:
- Had zero stations for water on the 26 mile (42 km) course
- Accidentally gave North American competitor Tom Hicks a cocktail made of egg whites, brandy, and actual fucking rat poison
- Had a guy come into the race late wearing a beret and cutoff slacks, sneak into an apple orchard during the race because no food had been given to him for 40 hours, eat rotten apples, projectile vomit onto the track, fall asleep for hours, and finish in fourth place OVERALL because most of the other runners collapsed of exhaustion or injuries
- Conducted the race on a dusty road, which caused so much dust to be kicked into the air that an American runner somehow inhaled enough to tear his STOMACH LINING open
- Accidentally released feral dogs onto the track
- Fucked the other competitors up SO BADLY that Tom Hicksβthe guy who ate RAT POISON and was HALLUCINATING the entire runβcame in first place
β synopsis: you didnβt do much after getting through high school. you got an associates degree in business and just rented an apartment above an empty store to open a small tea/coffee shop on a quiet street in japan. you had a few regulars and always had a few tourists passing through, but never really a crowd. you were happy with your quiet life, up until a certain prohero all but flew in through your doors one warm afternoon and threw you for a loop.
β warnings: fluff, canon divergence, tooth-rotting fluff, coffee shop au, hawks is a red-tailed hawk and i use that to my advantage, possible slight ooc
β word count: 4.5k
β a/n: thisβ¦ this is peak self indulgence. not apologizing for it though
