You ever feel mildly annoyed when you happen to read an anti’s stupidly illogical comment on your ship? And by mildly of course I mean majorly bothered so that the only cure is repeatedly watching your favorite Jonerys scenes until you’re so immersed in the beauty of their love that nothing can get to you anymore? 😍💖
And then of course, you just have to write about it because how else will you be able to get a handle on the mishmash of emotions that just take over you like? 💖💖😍
And this episode man. Just. This. This episode I tell you!!! I’m a regular GoT fan, which basically means that I’ve learnt to have certain expectations from the show, especially regarding love. And I can honestly say that never in my life could I have imagined that GoT would give me a romance as sweet as this!
The first Jonerys scene in this episode:
Had me laughing so hard!
The look on Dany’s face, it’s just so suggestive! And Jon’s interruption itself is so timely just.. We aren’t ever going to forget Jon’s first cave episode ever are we? And the particular expertise he surprised us all by? 😂👏🏻 I mean how much more of a throwback could this be to to the Jon/Ygritte cave sequence? And as if that by itself wasn’t enough, he takes her to a cave! My boy Jon is unbeatable at cuteness, fight me!
By this time, it’s obvious that a considerable amount of time has already passed since Jon arrived on Dragonstone, and also that their relationship has definitely improved since the whole initial ‘bend the knee’ scene, and the cave scene totally shows this! Now I know that people have been complaining that their love is so rushed, and doesn’t make sense but I strongly disagree. With fewer (Stannis and Davos simultaneously approve) episodes and the decision to only show the focal interactions between Jonerys, what’s illogical is to assume that they have had no interaction offscreen which got them to the point that Dany doesn’t need her whole entourage to tag along when Jon wants to show her something.
Which gets me to the ‘hoooolyyy shiiiiiiit, I ship them and I ship them hard dammit!!’ moment of the entire show!!! Look at this!!
Remember my favorite romantic trope of ‘looking when the other person is not’?? The only thing that ups that is ‘looking while the other person is completely fascinated by something else! There is legit nothing else which can make me melt as fast as this! Because it’s so simply pure! Like, you’re watching the other person be mesmerized by something you’re showing them! You’re watching them lost in wonder, so taken by what they’re seeing. And they’re so absorbed in their own world at that moment, they don’t even notice you doing that while I’m here completely losing it!!!
Plus, it also totally reminded me of one of my favoritest Disney movies ever!
And this look!!! You know, I think this is probably one of the first times when Jon Snow was giving off the ‘you know nothing, but you’re so cute when you’re clueless and I get to show off’ vibes! 😂💖
And this scene, oh my heart!!
This has to be the most non sexual and romantic physical contact on GoT ever! I can’t imagine any other moment when a simple arm touch like that (totally unnecessary, by the way, Jon. my boy’s got the moves though!) has got me shipping people so hard!!
Another thing which got me was how it was Jon who held her arm, our Jon (I’m never going to get over this!), reaching out to her in such a familiar comfortable gesture, when he could simply have walked ahead and shown her that. Basically, our Jon having the confidence to just take her arm like that, and the closeness (which lasts 0.00001 seconds, but it’s enough for a lifetime for me!💖), and the delicateness and the intense feels!
And the softness? Apart from the way Jon kept looking at Dany and the arm touch, what I loved was how soft and mellow they both were around each other. Even though Dany still wanted him to ‘bend the knee’, not only was she softer, but she was so much more reasonable than in her throne room, where the attitude was ‘bend the knee you rebel, or i’ll destroy you after i’m finished with Cersei’; here, she is nudging him so much more gently than she had earlier. Jon, on his part, gives her an actual reason as to why he can’t submit to her, as opposed to his own stance earlier - ‘why would i give the north to you, stranger?’ Jon knows his people, and he knows they are not going to accept a Southern ruler, especially not a Targaryen. (which is realistic, those Northern lords are a task), he’s basically telling her that he’s not refusing because he wants to keep his title or anything so shallow as all that, it’s his people. And the puppy eyes in this scene only make it sooooo much better!
And then there’s this!
The symbolism of ‘ice and fire’ being reinforced aside, they are shown so beautifully to be equals here, in sync, working towards the same goals! If that isn’t enough to start wanting them together…
This whole cave scene basically set up that Jon is definitely starting to develop feelings for her, which is only to be expected because she’s beautiful enough to warrant that attraction, and plus, Jon is starting to know her and realize that she’s not her father, or Cerse,i or bad or evil or batshit crazy or any of those things Targaryens are reputed to be. Dany’s trust in Jon is shown right in the following scene, when she disregards all her other advisors and turns to Jon, because she has come to know, that this is a man who will always put the realm first, a man whom she can trust to give her the truth keeping the people in mind, a man with no other motive than to save his people against all odds.
Then again, there are the neverending parallels between them:
It is emphasized again and again how, despite their seeming differences, they share certain values and experiences with each other, which again serves to bring them closer together.
Now what I found really important was this:
I live for Ser Davos’ dialogues! But what’s important to note is Jon’s reply:
‘There’s no time for that.’
Now, if he had really been trying to seduce Dany according to the antis (which I am definitely not going to believe in), it would have been far more natural for him to just be quiet about this.
If Mister Honor Incarnate is actually setting aside his honor for the greater good, it is definitely not going to come without an internal struggle. This guy has lived all his life by a strict moral code, and to set it aside will not be easy, especially considering manipulation is not his forte.
So, if he had been trying to seduce her, he would be ashamed of it, he would hate himself for doing that, and when Ser Davos would have teased him about it, he definitely wouldn’t have replied with “there’s no time for that,” since according to some antis, that is his exact plan and there’s all the time for it!
But Jon doesn’t look pensive or even slightly uncomfortable. He doesn’t deny it, or even stare blankly at Davos like ‘what are you talking about?’.
He simply says there is no time for it, and you know why he does that? Because right now, his sole mission in life is taking down the Night King, ensure the survival of the living, he doesn’t have time to fall in love and allow himself to be sidetracked.
Jon basically is treating his second life as some sort of ‘serving the greater cause’, he doesn’t seem to think he can focus on anything other than the Night King, especially not something personal as fall for Daenerys. Also, he knows that falling for her will only lead to complications, since the North is staunchly against the Targaryens. He doesn’t want to analyse his feelings for her because it will lead him down a rabbit hole he doesn’t think he should be ‘wasting’ his time on. God, he has such a heroic aura around him, turning away from any possible personal desire for the greater good. Jon, why do you have to be so good! Of course, he’ll eventually end up changing his mind in the most glorious way possible and I just! 💖😍
Summary:She calls Bucky by many different names. Each one portraying a different emotion, motive behind her words changing and telling with every utterance off her lips.
A/N:Tags are now closed! This gets a little suggestive, but not smutty.
He knew he was in for it whenever she called him Sarge. It slipped out her lips when she was feeling flirty and coy, yet she hardly ever used it subtly. He loved every second of it. There was no way he could ever escape her charm, especially not when that nickname was whispered in his ear.
They weren’t even a couple the first time she used it. After months of flirty banter, deep conversations, and lingering glances; it was clear there was something between the two of them. Not that either of them was doing anything about it.
CW: basic flu symptoms (fever, nausea, chills) and pseudo-surprise kissing
When Bittle caught the flu, Jack did not panic.
In retrospect, one (Shitty) might have described Jack’s response as an overreaction, especially considering Holster was the one who got Bittle sick and Jack had barely batted an eye when he came home to find Holster wrapped in several comforters and sleeping soundly on the living room floor. But when Bittle missed class, Jack got nervous. And when he found Bittle in bed in the middle of the afternoon, Jack got scared. And when Bittle announced he had a fever and chills and the boys would have to eat in the dining hall for the next few days, Jack very possibly panicked.
A/N: A lot of friendos asked what bathing with Jae would be like-
First, I’d like to take the time for you to imagine what Jung Jaehyun would look like; naked in a tub.
Honestly, he has many different personas, so your time together would depend on his mood
Usually tho, he’s the one who suggests the two of you bathe together and usually, he’s in a good mood “Take a bath with me~” “Why are you using that tone?” “I just really missed you~” *Gets all up on you and smothers you until you give in*
His ‘good’ mood can vary tho… He can act like a sly pervert or a dreamy husband
He prefers you face him and usually the two of you are leaning against opposite sides of the tub
Imagine seeing him; his sculpted body of a god, soft pale skin and warm brown eyes-
He loves listening to you yammer, humming in acknowledgment
Honestly, he usually acts like a dreamy husband, massaging your feet beneath the water from the other end of the tub and chuckling as you complain about your embarrassing fluke from earlier
When he’s in the mood tho he’s a sly dog and will take advantage of your vulnerable state…
He loves teasing you, so much so, that you’d probably get so flustered and bothered you’d try to leave
He’s good at getting what he wants tho and would trap you against the cold ceramic, his lips mouthing at your neck as his hands slip beneath the surface
I’m not going down this rabbit hole, back to bathing-
He offers to help you out usually [when he’s not horny… then he has no intention of getting ‘clean’ rather getting ‘dirty’]
He’s really good with massages and takes him time, he enjoys being a giver
He does other shit like playing with your hair and scrubbing your back
He’s very observant as well, letting his gaze trail along you bare form, trying to memorize each crevice “Have you been dieting?” “…No…” “Your ribs are more prominent than i remember-” “They are?” “Take care of yourself, it’s not just your body, it’s mine too-”
He can also be annoying tho…
He gets wound up… When he’s excited like that his rambunctious laughs will echo along the tile as you threaten to leave if he doesn’t stop splashing you
Baths don’t last that long, maybe about 35 minutes or so… unless the two of you delve into a deep conversation; then it could take hours
He always gets out first- that way he can watch you get out in all your glory-
It’s a bonding experience to be honest and always makes his heart swell with affection
hi, I spent a good few hours diving down the rabbit-hole of otherkin tags because I’m pretty new to it, and I honestly find the concept so interesting, and I want to learn more about it on an individual level.
if you’re any kind of otherkin (spacekin, therian, deitykin, etc.) and you’re okay with talking, I’d love to talk with you to gain a deeper understanding of your specific kin and kintypes all around ☺️
If you’re alright with talking, reblog this or reply with your kintype and I’ll follow you and send a message your way. Thank you so much! 😌💕
Request: hey I saw the prompt thing and was wondering if you’d do #2 for mileven?? i think it’d be really cute?
Word Count: 1,275
It happened so fast. Typically, when these kinds of things happen, Eleven is the one to step in and save Mike or use her powers against whoever decided to hurt them.
The leaves scratch against the pavement and their shoes all stop in a confusion of scattering movements at the sight of the anger in front of them exploding. Eleven started to go to out in town with the Party earlier in this week, seeing that the one last year of hiding and playing it safe has just ended and now she can finally live normally. The first time she went outside, she was driven over to the Wheeler’s house and she peeked in the back window of the basement, then knocked on the door since she saw Mike inside.
He’d dreamt of the moment. The happiness he’d feel knowing that he could finally go out in public with her without being hunted down. That he could breathe easier now that she’s entered into society as a-kind of-normal girl. But on that Monday morning, the last thing he thought he’d see was his favorite girl holding a box of Eggos with a sly smile on her face. The first thing he did was hug her and then pull her inside to catch up after not being allowed to visit her in the woods for a week.
Love is too small a word to describe what burns inside of him for Eleven. It’s too minuscule and vague. All he knows is that he lives everyday with her electric soul twined and tangled into his. That no matter what distance or troubles reach them, they could be lost or found and he’d still have this “love” for her. Love doesn’t even scratch the surface.
She spends the great majority of her time hanging out with her friends and Mike. They do normal kid stuff instead of all they always did when the world was seemingly starting to end and their relationship with him tremendously. They were all walking up the sidewalk to school, Eleven liking to walk them as she always does, when a boy in the grade above them of them was walking to his school.
The boy notices the difference in El. How her hair is short and she has a lingering, piercing stare to perceive all of those that surround her. And it doesn’t help that she’s already a peculiar girl.
Dan, the bully, stopped her from walking with the Party directly behind her. It was abrupt and immediate. It was chaotic. But El stood her group faithfully and tried with all of her strange to not use her powers to hurt such an insignificant boy. He kept saying these terrible things though and pushed his patience farther and farther down the rabbit hole of rage. It wasn’t until the boy laid a hand on Eleven’s shoulder and shoved her that he stomped up behind him and punched him in the face.
Now Dan is on the ground while everyone else gapes at Mike for what he’s done. More specifically, El does.
She knows that what he said wasn’t important, that he’s just a mouth-breather and if he crossed a line then she would have stepped in. A part of what he did makes her cringe in fear of what if he tries to hit him back and the other part makes her smile softly to herself.
Mike stands with his feet planted firmly beside her, watching and trying to keep a poker face while Dan scrambles up from the ground. He’d do anything for Eleven. It doesn’t matter to him who he has to fight or outsmart or get killed by, if it would help her, he’d do it. And so he punched that kid in the face without another thought because the only thing he saw through the rage was her doe eyes wide with something between sadness and anger.
Dan starts to take a step towards him but she concentrates, lowering her chin slightly and narrowing her eyes at him until his movement stops short. She flicks her head to the side, letting the frozen figure fall to the ground for effect.
“I swear to god, I’ll rip your skin off if you touch her again,” Mike says.
His voice is calm, even toned, talking in a way he’d talk to his English teacher or even the principal as he threatens this kid’s life for touching El. Eventually, her grip on Dan’s frozen body loosens and she has to wipe the dripping blood from her nose, the sound of his heavy running footsteps in the background. He’s gone, because of Mike.
“That wasn’t smart,” She says and turns to him.
“Well, he was messing with you,” He mumbles, “And I have to protect you like you did with me right? Isn’t that what b-”
Warnings: Pure smut, relentless kink, a touch of muted fluff
Thank you for reading, if you do, and please never hesitate to let me know what you think. If the subject is not your taste, respectfully keep your criticism of that factor to yourself.
Lips pressed against the thin skin under your ear, the breath on your face like steam. Tommy held you by the back of your neck, holding you up as you swayed slightly in his grip. You could feel the dewy spots his lips left on your skin, his teeth now scraping against your earlobe as he murmured to you.
A moan from your chest escaped when Tommy slid his finger into your mouth, running it over your tongue and around your lips.
“Now, these ones are going to hurt, alright?” he purred, his confidence comforting, his voice dangerous. Gripping your shoulder to rub the nape of your neck, he was controlled but wanting as he watched you breathe in anticipation. “And I want you to count them. If you miss one, we start over. Alright?”
You nodded, whimpering slightly as Tommy slowly pushed you back down onto your stomach on the arm of the chair, the navy velvet smooth and plush on your bare skin.
The glittering dinner and grandiose opera you had attended tonight felt long gone. The only remaining evidence was the evening clothes strewn around you and Tommy’s bedroom, taken off in desperate haste. You eyed your torn lingerie, olive-colored lace shredded from his hands and laying on the carpet, its life over.
He bent down and pressed a kiss to your cheek and you caught his eyes, which were thawing from ice to sin as his pupils continued to dilate. The affection he had for you was being pushed out to sea by the storm within, lust promising to take over, his gentle kiss a temporary goodbye.
And then he was gone, walking to stand behind you, running the rough skin of his hand down your back until he reached your ass - his hand leaving goosebumps behind when it disappeared.
Shaky was your breath as you waited, knowing your pussy only bloomed wetly while you arched up on your toes in anticipation. Tommy hummed in appreciation and you heard him crouch down to look at you.
“You’re making quite the mess, little bird.”
He didn’t ask for a response so you stayed mute, gasping when he pressed a kiss to your clit, his hands large and squeezing on your ass. His tongue ran across your clit lightly and your chest hitched, the tortuously delicate touch making you whine and stand on the very tops of your toes.
Only when the cool rush of air onto your sensitive pussy made you groan in frustration did you realize his tongue was gone. You heard him stand and you began your tense waiting once more.
You heard it before you felt it, the unmistakable crack of his hand on your skin, a sound you ashamedly adored. The skin stung where his hand had fallen, making your ass - having already been brought to a blushing shade of rose with his previous, albeit gentler, strokes - sing in pain and sensitivity.
“One,” you said, voice cracking slightly, the strain of the night’s moans already leaving you at a rasp.
Tommy hummed in approval, pleased.
The spanks fell in sporadic succession, a tortuously secretive time between each of them, Tommy making you wait. He gripped you firmly, fingers almost painful as they held you tightly in place, your hips wriggling. You knew that by now your pale skin was clouding into magenta handprints, blood lushing to the surface after each lash of Tommy’s hand
“Twenty,” you cried, a low sound of begging tumbling from inside your chest, “Please.”
“Please what?” Tommy asked, voice low and gravelly with desire.
“Mercy,” you moaned, “Please, Tommy.”
He trailed his fingertips over your ass, back and forth, his rough skin scraping against the redness of yours, a gasp of pained pleasure leaving your lips.
Straightening from his lean against the chair you were so compromisingly bent over, he devilishly walked his fingers up your spine until he could entwine his fingers in your hair. Kissing you deeply, giving you the drink you so desperately needed, he held your head firmly when he felt you try to move.
Drunk on lust and champagne, you kissed him back. When he pulled away you gazed at him, his face no less beautiful from your sideways position. The velvet of the couch started to grow hot under your cheek, his hand large on your head as he held you there. The blue of his eyes was now nothing but an arctic ring around a sea of black, half-lidded as he blinked at you, squatted so his face was level with yours. He untangled his fingers from your hair slowly, reaching down to hold your chin in his hand.
“Put your hands behind your back.”
Habit neatly placed your wrists above your ass in the way you knew he liked, waiting to be bound, two petals above the dimples of your lower back.
A chill rippled through him, it would have been imperceptible to anyone but you, and it was gone quickly. “Good girl. But not tonight. Hold your elbows.”
You did, your arms forming a square behind your back, your hands falling just short of your elbows in a struggle to grip your forearms.
Tommy watched while you assembled yourself, his thumb running across your slightly swollen lips, their plushness holding most of his attention. Your gazes met once you settled into your place, shoulders rolled back. Tommy looked at you for a moment - a fleeting moment - loaded with the affection he felt for you, an unconscious slip into his heart, the regard he held you in when his devils weren’t pulling at their leashes.
But then the wolf returned, his mood shifting from doting to starving; his eyes roamed your body all the way from your hair to your toes, Dionysus at a feast. He smirked in appreciation as he took in your arms, your hands desperately hanging onto your soft skin in their awkward position.
He wrapped his hand around your bent arm and pressed, voice dangerous but velvet with warning, “No stockings for your wrists tonight. You are not to move them, understood?”
“Yes,” you flexed your fingers, knowing it would be far easier said than done.
“Good,” he hummed, kissing your shoulder, brushing your hair to the side in a silken tumble.
You sighed, ready to be devoured.
No longer having interest in making you wait, he reached back to dip a single finger into you, sliding in and out slowly until you begged for two.
He obliged, and you could hear him hiss between his teeth as you writhed around his fingers, moaning.
“Tsk, tsk,” Tommy clipped at you, still moving his fingers at a pace so slow you could cry in need. “Such a naughty girl, dripping down her thighs.”
You moaned at his words, his fingers snug in your tightness, pressing slowly in and moving slickly back out.
It was when he started to play with your clit that you began to fall down lust’s rabbit hole, his finger lightly flicking your nerves was all encompassing. You forgot where you were in the daze of your own gratification, beginning to pant between your whimpers of pleasure, digging into the plush chair with your hands to hold onto the earth.
You had barely noticed Tommy’s hand was gone from your pussy before it was around your throat, squeezing securely and pulling you to stand.
“Where should your hands be?” He asked innocently, his chest flush to your back as he held you to him. He held two fingers at your entrance, resting against you just enough to make sure you knew they were there, ready to continue their torture. “I won’t be happy if you make me have to tie them.”
The rasp of your breath became nearly silent, his fingers flexing slightly as you rushed to correct your posture, grabbing your arms as quickly as you could, struggling to hold onto the sweat-sheened skin.
“Mm,” Tommy hummed, holding you still and watching your face as he released the pressure on your throat slowly, sliding his fingers back inside you. “I think I’ll keep you up here where I can keep an eye on you.”
You eagerly inhaled oxygen and throatily exhaled moans, a wanton mess. Tommy held his grasp around your neck, lightly for now - but squeezing gently off and on to remind you that he could change his mind if he so pleased. He turned you around so you faced him and began to push, using the hand on your neck and the fingers in your pussy to walk you backwards until you hit the wall.
Returning to your clit, he rubbed circles that were deft with experience as he pressed against you. Lust burned beneath both his touch and his gaze, sliding his hand off your throat to hold your cheeks firmly in his hand. You knew he would take you soon, either by choice or by loss of control. You prayed he did, your own self-control growing questionable with each brush of his fingers.
The length of Tommy’s cock was hard as marble, pressing into your thigh, his pants taut over the outline of it. Your hips rolled despite his best efforts to keep you still, only able to do so much as he watched you, half-lidded and hungry.
He stopped his luxurious attention to your clit suddenly, taking one step back to remove his suspenders, shirt, pants - anything that kept him from your skin. Tommy’s eyes never left yours, pinning you there all on their own.
Then he was on you again, hands squeezing wherever they could grab as he took your breast into his mouth. Rolling your nipple around in his teeth, he sunk in until you whimpered in agonizing pleasure, his tongue following to soothe the puckered skin. He unwound your arms from each other while blowing air onto your wet nipples to make you whine in sensitivity. He was slow in undoing your locked grasp, the blood rushing back to your muscles before he crossed your wrists above your ass as he liked, pressing on them to remind you that was where they should stay.
Rubbing your shoulders deeply for a few moments, Tommy relaxed the stiffness that his command had caused. When he decided you were sufficiently limber again he pressed down, fingers easily digging into your flesh to push you to your knees where you settled before looking up at him.
“Open your mouth.” He said, his slipping control apparent in his low rasp.
You obeyed, craving. Love for him swelled in your chest and stirred in with the lust. He looked down at you with a possessive affection, holding your cheek in his palm. Leaning into it, you sighed a fawn sigh, eyelids fluttering as he slid his thumb into your mouth.
You closed your mouth around it by force of habit and he squeezed your cheeks suddenly.
“Did I tell you to close it?”
“No,” you replied, corrected, the word open and hollow as you said it without closing your lips.
“Negligent tonight, aren’t you?” he murmured, only half-present as his eyes glazed over, watching his own thumb slide around your lips, making your mouth a mess. “We’ll have to do something about that.”
Resisting the desire to look at his cock was easy, his chiseled face holding your gaze, hypnotizing.
Tommy replaced his thumb with the hard and silky head of himself, spreading a drop of his telling desire around your lips before sliding into your mouth.
A silent moan twisted itself in his chest, his mouth falling open as he watched you, pressing until he could go no further, your head against the wall and his cock against the back of your throat. In moments like this one you knew the side of him that adored you was quiet, the side that possessed you loud. Now was not his time to give, but to take.
A shameful knot of desire tightened in your pussy, your clit pulsing as he drew back out, the gulp of air you took making him smirk. You loved it - you did - knowing that no one could weaken Thomas Shelby like you could. The power was held tightly in his willful hands, but it was yours.
And Tommy was honored.
He fucked your mouth, his head leaned back with eyes closed. Each time his cock forced a sound from your throat he groaned quietly.
Your jaw ached from his size but you kept it open wide, knowing a scrape of your teeth on his sensitive skin would earn you no pleasure later.
Your clit begged you to touch it, the obstinate devil on your shoulder telling you Tommy wouldn’t see - his eyes wrenched shut to any world other than the one he was thrusting himself into over and over. With each stroke of cock into your throat, you pulsed; you could feel your wetness all over the inside of your thighs. You flexed your hands, palms itching to disobey.
As if sensing your approaching defiance, Tommy snapped his gaze back to you, looking more god than man.
“Open your legs.” He ordered, voice mostly breath.
Shifting awkwardly, you wiggled your knees apart so your bent legs made a letter v against the floor; you sat back on your ankles, the pain unfelt, feet already numb. Tommy swore, rubbing the head of his cock around your lips as he waited for you.
The throbbing between your legs became all-consuming; the open air rushing against your pussy did nothing to calm you, your clit so sensitive that any lick of air against it made you whine in need. You knew it was the reason for his command - that and his desire to watch you drip onto the carpet for him.
Tommy leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the wall and taking a hand from your face to grip your throat. He pinned you helplessly against the wall and resumed his ravaging. He watched you take him with his brows furrowed and mouth fallen open; lust was the altar, your mouth the sacrifice.
You arched your tongue the way he liked, the point of it massaging his cock each time he slid over top of it, pressing down his length. A guttural groan left his chest, running a shiver up your spine.
Your breath began to run out as Tommy continued to take his pleasure from you, relentless in his pace and using his hand on your neck for leverage. Widening your round eyes at him, you begged silently. He smiled hotly through his panting, he knew what you needed. But he didn’t oblige for a few more raw moments, never taking his cock out far enough to allow you air before thrusting it back inside.
Only when your face began to flush red from more than just pleasure did Tommy release you, still holding you against the wall by your jaw as you gasped air in, your eyelids fluttering in gratitude.
Pressing your head to his thigh, he rubbed your hair as you recovered your senses. “Stand up, little bird.”
But he did most of the work to pull you from the ground, your legs flooding with pain as blood rushed back into their sleeping muscles. He kissed you passionately and held you close, the taut muscles of his arms holding your weight.
Touching you at last, Tommy ran a finger up and down the slit between your legs, growling sinful promises into your ear. You barely heard them, the rough callous of his finger giving you a bliss that could be rivaled by nothing on earth.
Being thrown on the bed you shared came as a shock, the fact that Tommy had been pushing you towards it had been lost in your haze. He continued to play with your clit as he climbed onto the bed like an agile predator.
He easily and deftly turned you onto your stomach and pulled your hips towards him, your hands flying forward to catch yourself.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Tommy chided lowly, “I don’t think so.”
A screeching whine of frustration left you as you returned your hands to their place on your lower back. A command was harder to remember than a knot was.
The sound of his smirk-shaped laugh was all you needed to know that Tommy’s lips had spread over his teeth in a skeletal smile of hedonism. If his rules were easy for you to follow, he wouldn’t have enjoyed them.
Tommy slid the head of his cock up and down your pussy, teasing you both. You gasped and swore, hips rolling in a helpless plea. His hand was broad on your back as he pressed your chest to the bed, arching your hips up even more, your ass in the air to be level with his cock.
“Tommy,” you moaned, “please, Tommy.”
“Please what?” He asked, mocking you gently.
“Fuck me. Please, Tommy, please.”
He growled - hearing you beg always pushed him over the edge.
The feeling of his cock filling you was familiar but still rousing, a thick pleasure you were always surprised to feel. You managed nothing but a mewling sound as your pussy stretched tightly around his length.
“Fuck,” Tommy whispered, barely able to speak as he watched your wetness glisten on him, slowly working his cock in and out of you to warm you up. You whimpered as he pushed all the way in once more and he squeezed your hips firmly, musing more to himself than you, “So tight for me always.”
Then he took you, fucking you hard as he drove his cock inside you again and again. He held your wrists in one hand, the other giving your ass fresh handprints. Pace fast and thrusts relentless, Tommy murmured disgraceful things to you while he fucked you raw. The slick sound of your now overflowing wetness reminded you just how sinfully well your dark side got along with his.
Each time you began to flirt with tumbling over the edge, walls tightening, he would slow and chide you quietly, making your need to orgasm spread all over your body in search of a way out. The feeling was one you’d never get tired of, Tommy knowing exactly how to fuck you to keep you hanging on the cliff, release on the horizon, out of your reach. Not yet, little bird.
Leaning forward to grab one of your breasts and a fistful of your hair, he pulled you up to him, pressing your back to his muscled chest, your spine arching like a cat as you laid your head back onto his shoulder. He continued to hum deviltry into your ear, pausing only to press his lips hotly to your temple, cheek, neck. Snaking both his arms around your torso Tommy squeezed you tight, holding you still while he fucked you.
Your skin was electric, your moans loud, every nerve ending simmered. No matter what he did to slow it, your orgasm grew closer and closer, the upward strokes of Tommy’s cock smooth and merciless. You knew he was close, each thrust coming faster and harder than the last, his breath heavy with effort and passion.
“Tommy,” you breathed, “I’m gonna cum.”
He slid a hand to your face, gripping you hungrily, his eyes on yours. They were black as piano keys, feral. “What do you say?”
“Please can I cum?” you begged, the size of him inside you making you senseless at this angle. “Please.”
Smoothly taking your wrists, Tommy freed you at last. Bringing your hands from behind your back to the front of your chest, he wrapped you up again, intertwining his fingers in yours and clutching you to him. Breath hot in your ear, he whispered, “Cum for me, love.”
It tore through you, contorting your face in pleasure and ripping you apart in violent waves of heat. You didn’t care who heard, Tommy’s name on your lips reaching new heights when he reached down to caress your clit, knowing exactly when to do so to make your orgasm last.
The juices he had wrung from you dripped off his cock and slicked your thighs; he pushed you forward slightly to watch as you finished cumming around him. He swore with each thrust, groans carnal as he followed you over the edge. Pulling you back to his chest, he buried his face in your neck and moaned deeply,
his arms holding you in a crushing embrace as he emptied himself into you.
After a few moments of heaving chests and pounding hearts he pulled out, cum spilling, turning you around so you could wrap your legs around his waist and rest as he sat back on his heels. You touched him at last, running your fingers through the velvet of his short hair and the silk of the longer locks on top, damp with sweat. He ran his hand up and down your spine, syncing his breaths with yours, pressing soft kisses to your shoulders as you did the same to his neck.
In the morning you would be sore - you always were after nights like this one - and Tommy would smirk at the bruises on your ass as he watched you dress for work, easily tying his tie and flirting with you. He would fasten your necklace in the morning and take it off at night, you both talking of your days, dinner, the weekend. You would make love. But the wolf always came back for more lamb, and you would do well to remember that you were his. Tommy would remind you anyway.
Eventually he laid you down, shushing you gently, sliding the sheets over your bodies as you fell into sleep, Tommy’s forehead pressed to yours as he and the night cradled you in slumber.
Stiles thought he’d never feel as guilty as he did the day he found out Scott had been bitten by a rogue alpha werewolf, little did he know things would only get worse as the struggle to keep his secret from his best friends drags on.
Then Derek Hale gets thrown into the mix, because of course he does.
There’s a solid wooden fence surrounding the backyard; a moderately-sized, flat piece of square land. Instead of grass, a flagstone path winds in between wild, tangled gardens, knock-out roses, towering crape myrtles, foxglove, bluebeard, hydrangea, overgrown ornamental grasses—weeds and wildflowers fill in all the spaces in between, and Stiles doesn’t plan on doing a single thing about any of them. The yard is fantastic. It’s wonderful. He can’t wait to strip out of his skin and make a burrow.
Stiles is a werebunny & Derek is his grumpy werewolf neighbor
His hind paw catches on a rock and he goes down, crashing onto his stomach, the wind abruptly forced from his lungs. He tries to scramble to his feet – paws, whatever – but he can already sense a large figure hovering over him, trapping him in. He makes a break for it anyway, though, desperately trying to escape, but a large muzzle with rows of sharp teeth is already descending on him and –
– and Derek Hale is going to eat him to death. And not even in a sexy way. Then Derek finally will become a murderer, and his dad will have to identify his body by scraping bits of his rabbit intestines off of Derek’s wolf-y canines.
All because he didn’t warn his werewolf friends off from their usual late night hunts, because then he’d have to admit that he’s a fucking wererabbit.
A/N: An anon request. This is a Spencer x Reader, around season 5 and Spencer has a serve kink in regards to the reader. He loves when she calls him Dr. Reid. So smutty smut ensues. ;)
“Morning, Dr. Reid,” Y/N said, emphasizing his title as she nearly always did. Why did she do that? He wasn’t complaining - not at all as a matter of fact. But he did wonder what made her do that.
“Why do you always call me Doctor, Y/N?” he asked, slapping his hand across his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “We’ve been working together for nearly two years and everyone else calls me Spencer.”
“I don’t know, I guess I just know what it takes to get a Ph.D., so I like using it when someone has earned it,” she said, bending over the desk in front of him. The locket she never went a day without was hanging down in between her breasts and Spencer had to try with every fiber in him to look up at her eyes and not where they were naturally drawn. When he looked up, he saw her smiling - almost a smirk. She must have known what she was doing to him. He wondered if she knew that every time she called him doctor, he imagined her saying it to him in the bedroom.
“Well,” he said, gazing into her eyes, noticing that her pupils had dilated. Wait? Is she actually into me? he thought. “I did earn three of them, and you’re the only one that calls me doctor, which I like.”
“Oh really, Dr. Reid,” she said standing up and crossing her arms in front of her body. As she stood up from the desk with her hip jutted out to one side she spoke, “I’ll be sure to continue calling you Dr. Reid then.” He could have sworn she winked as she turned away.
As she walked toward her own desk, he couldn’t help but glance at her body, which was being hugged by her pencil skirt and silk blouse. There were a ton of images running through his mind - none of them innocent.
Ever since he’d asked Y/N why she called him Dr. Reid, the tension between the two had been palpable. Even the other members of the team took notice. Garcia egging them both on to just go for it.
The subtle glances, figure-hugging clothing and continuous use of his title did not go unnoticed by Spencer. He wanted her so badly. But he wanted something different. Something people wouldn’t expect from him, even look down on him for, so he was wary about bringing it up with her.
Towards the end of the day, when both were entering the car garage as the last ones out of the building, Spencer saw Y/N drop her bag by her car and rushed over to help her pick up her things. Just because the thoughts running through his mind weren’t very gentlemanly, didn’t mean he wasn’t a gentleman. “Thank you, Dr. Reid,” she cooed, after all of her things had been picked up. As they stood up, she closed the gap between them - the heat in the air could melt ice.
Without thinking, he pinned her between himself and her car, wrapping his one hand around her waist and the other around the back of her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. Her pupils dilated immediately - nearly black with wanting - and the two breathed into each other for a few moments before devouring one another.
“Do you want to come back to my place?” she asked, pulling out of the kiss. Her kiss-swollen lips were open in a way that only made his mind race further down the rabbit hole.
“Yes,” he responded, biting at her lower lip. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Both Y/N and Spencer had to keep themselves from speeding to her apartment - the adrenaline coursing through their veins at lightning speed. At nearly the same time, they pulled up to her apartment building and rushed up the stairs, clashing into each other at her front door, barely making it inside.
“I have one stipulation,” Spencer said through heavy breaths.
“Oh, really? Not a request? Are you telling me what to do?” she asked, her eyes closed in ecstasy as she ran her hands through his shoulder-length hair.
“Yes, I am.” His strength and confidence was throwing her off, but in the most delicious way. “Continue to call me doctor.”
She bit at his bottom lip, lightly tugging his hair. “I hadn’t thought to do anything else, Dr.”
“Oh, fuck me,” he groaned, as he picked her up and proceeded toward her bedroom. “You’re killing me.” As they approached the bedroom, clothing flew in all directions - leaving them in only their underwear by the time they hit the bed.
He took her off guard by turning her around and placing her on all fours on the bed, positioning himself behind her. This was all happening so quickly and without much thought, so he attempted to slow himself down, but she was killing him.
She turned her head towards him, her eyes betraying exactly what she craved. “What are you waiting for Doctor?”
In one quick movement, he put two fingers in between the lace of her panties and her center, feeling her slickness before ripping the panties off and positioning his length at her entrance, slipping in slowly. Once he was partially enveloped in her wet heat, he commanded, “Put your legs together.”
“I think I like this side of you, Dr. Reid,” Y/N breathed as she did what he said and he slipped in completely. The tightness was nearly enough to push him over the already precarious edge he was on.
“Mmm…fuck,” she moaned, her front end collapsing into the mattress.
He grabbed her hands and pulled them behind her back, giving him leverage to thrust into her with reckless abandon - the sound of skin slapping against skin beginning to fill the room as he thrust into her over and over again. Her staggered breaths coaxed him on. He picked up speed, racing toward their mutual release. “Oh, god, Reid…” she groaned. Her volume rose to the point where someone might have thought about alerting the landlord, so he reached down, grabbed her waist and pulled her flush against him.
“You forgot the Dr.,” he said, reaching toward the bed for the panties he’d ripped off her, never once losing the pace he’d built up “and your going to get the cops called on us.” Just when she thought she couldn’t be enjoying this different side of Spencer more, he took the panties that he’d ripped off her and put them in her mouth. “Oh, hell…” she mumbled, feeling her core begin to tighten.
Still flush against him, he wrapped his hands around her breasts, giving them the attention they needed and finally pushing her over the edge, with him following soon after.
As they began to catch their breaths, Spencer lifted her towards the top of the bed, collapsing at her side and pulling the underwear from her mouth. “I had no idea there was this side of you, Dr. Reid,” she murmured, taking his mouth in her own.
“We may have been working together for two years, Y/N,” he spoke, tasting all of her, “But there is still so much about me you don’t know.”