hip raise

Miscellaneous Clark Kent headcanons as relate to my little fic universe, that may or may not ever come up because who knows:

  • Little Clark was really susceptible to childhood superstitions for some reason. He didn’t go under ladders, he did the salt over the shoulder thing, he did not fuck with that Bloody Mary shit like NOPE I’M OUT THIS SLUMBER PARTY IS CANCELED, LANA GET OUT OF MY HOUSE AND TAKE YOUR MURDER GHOSTS WITH YOU. He believes that he is over this as an adult but whenever his foot is about to fall on a crack in the sidewalk it actually stops like a half inch above the ground and hovers there. He does not notice he is doing this. No one notices, ever, because it is the weirdest subtle unconscious thing in the world. At least Martha’s back is safe?
  • I covered the picky eater thing in Christmas in Kansas but to be more specific his tastebuds are just really sensitive to certain chemical compounds? Not just in terms of things he won’t eat but also in terms of things that he expects to be there and he doesn’t really like foods that lack those things. Your two options to make him eat anything are to cover it in sugar, or cover it in garlic.
  • He goes through a lot of breathmints. Can you imagine if Superman saved someone and they were like “man i appreciate being alive but he had some really bad garlic breath”? He would be so horrified.
  • He has a ratty, fucked-up old shirt that he wears whenever he is making pasta with red sauce. Even Superman cannot stand against the ability of red sauce to end up on whatever you happen to be wearing. HE WAS SO CAREFUL THIS TIME, HOW DID A STAIN END UP ON HIS BACK THAT JUST MAKES NO SENSE. Clark Kent’s weaknesses: kryptonite, tomato stains.
  • His ability to perfectly imitate anyone’s voice was one of the first things to manifest themselves, but this wasn’t the kind of thing anyone noticed was weird. It definitely didn’t seem like a power. He was just a small child who could do a really good Kermit the Frog. He sang Rainbow Connection at a middle school talent show and all the moms cried.
  • He definitely has a playlist to cheer himself up and get pumped and it has Eye of the Tiger and You’re the Best on it. Probably also half the Top Gun soundtrack.
  • Clark Kent’s twitter is pretty standard snarky newsman except with more farming memes. No one can tell how ironic the farming memes are. They might not be ironic at all. Clark Kent might be really sincere, or he might just be so ironic that he has circled back around into sincerity. No one knows. He’s also really good at that thing where you retweet two things from a person that side-by-side reveal they are a dingus. I don’t know if there’s a word for that.
  • His Snapchat is all dogspotting, with occasional rare dance breaks. He’s a pretty good dancer since he found those YouTube tutorials. He does this thing with his hips that Lois finds deeply upsetting for reasons she cannot articulate.
  • Jimmy asked Clark how he got so fit once and Clark was like “uh, farming. farm. eyup.” But he kept pressing for deets and Clark ended up just telling him that he’d pulled a Milo of Croton??? He lifted a newborn calf over his head and then just did that every single day until he was lifting a cow over his head. Jimmy knows nothing about farming or cows or physical fitness and this seemed plausible enough to him.
  • He has a blog where he posts rejected articles and it is the wonkiest thing in the entire world because that is why they got rejected. Perry takes one look at these articles and is like “it will take more words than I want to pay you for just to explain the setup for this article and also there are five people total who care, in the world, including you”
  • He has to be really careful when he buys clothes because he needs to make sure that they aren’t too tight and he has full range of motion. He does not want to relive The Skinny Jeans Incident. Shirts that say ‘I flexed and the sleeves fell off’ are only funny until it happens to you, then they are just horrible reminders. Popped seams everywhere. There is no way to explain that without looking like a huge tool.
  • Even when Superman has a really shitty day he keeps it together until he gets home, but then he shuts the balcony door and peels off his costume and Clark does the Tina Belcher groan for like ten minutes while he takes a shower because he got covered in sewer mutant or space crab or god knows and UUUUUUUUUUGH. Fortunately the nice older lady in the apartment next door always seems to know when he has had a shitty day and she brings him pie.
  • She can hear his melodramatic bullshit from over at her place, that’s how she knows. They share a bathroom wall and it practically echoes. If she times it right he will answer the door before he has put a shirt on because he doesn’t want to leave her waiting in the hall. She does not know what his day job is and it definitely does not occur to her that he is Superman because her primary interaction with him is that he acts like a whiny bitch and she brings him pie so she can ogle him. She is a simple woman who enjoys life’s simple pleasures.
  • The Kryptonian language is really complicated in terms of tonality, context, word order, musicality, etc, and the written language reflects that. Things like the order things are in, how things overlap, colors, etc, are all important. So basically I really like the idea of his symbol being one that represents his family name and says that he is of the House of El. It’s really just basically his last name.
  • If Starfleet gets to have replicators then Krypton gets to have replicators and Jor-El definitely stuck one in the ship so his son would have, you know, food and clothing. But only Kryptonians can use their tech because they’re who the neural interface is designed for so whoops they got real lucky that Kryptonian babies love milk from Earth goats. Clark only started using the replicator later but it only knows how to make Kryptonian things and only some of those are useful to him.
  • Okay so here is where I tie those last two bullet points into something fucking dumb that you will take out of my cold dead hands: Clark got the costume out of the replicator. It didn’t necessarily understand what he wanted though? Like, the concept of a costume didn’t really translate, but it got the idea that he wanted an active uniform, so that is what it made. It’s brightly colored and has his last name on the front. Clark is wearing a Kryptonian football jersey is what I’m getting at. Later Kara will be VERY confused by this. Imagine ending up on an alien planet and meeting your cousin and he’s been fighting crime dressed like a quarterback.
  • Most telepathy does not work because different neural patterns. Diana can only manage it if she uses her lariat and even then it’s like trying to lasso a freight train that does not stop. It’s extremely disorienting. J'onn has just accepted that Superman can hear him but he’s not going to get anything back. It’s like the psychic equivalent of a dial tone for him. He’s trying to call his bro but their family has dialup. He tries not to fuck with it because he doesn’t want to poke around in Superman’s head blind and break something.
  • Clark can’t type with super speed because he’ll break the keyboard and the computer can’t keep up. Instead he uses shorthand along with a custom set of AutoHotKey macros and it is honestly infuriating how fast he can get things written with this setup. But also if he doesn’t have AutoHotKey on whatever he’s typing with then sometimes Lois will get an email like: ll] dyk f pw mde a dec wrt t $l stry? ]ck
  • A woman was told by her therapist to try talking to at least one person once a week but she decided to cheat by just talking to her empty apartment under the guise of telling Superman about her day because lol he can hear everything allegedly so this definitely counts and is what the doctor was going for with this. When she has to go to the hospital for a medical emergency she comes home and there is a note on her counter wherein Superman explains that he was worried because he hadn’t heard from her in a while, so he swung by to check on her. When he found out what happened he watered her plants and fed her goldfish and also that cat that he thought might be hers (she does not have a cat). She is completely mortified because she was just being full of shit she did not actually believe he could hear her oh god what all did she even say and whose cat is this???
  • Look if you are in Metropolis and you loudly say HEY SUPERMAN there is a very good chance he will hear it even if he doesn’t mean to. He is not trying to eavesdrop, that’s just what happens when you yell someone’s name in earshot.
  • He doesn’t wear the costume under his clothes because you may have noticed a running theme here where the universe is conspiring to ruin his clothes and leave him running around shirtless all the time. I mean thank god for the rest of us but he would rather not risk someone spilling their drink all over him somehow and suddenly his shirt is transparent and you can see the big S. It’s bad enough when it happens under ordinary circumstances. How often can one man get drinks spilled all over him? You would be shocked. Shocked. His eyes are up here, Lois.
I'm On My Knee

Hi babes! This is a marshmallow-soft story about the reader and Tom having a special inside joke. That inside joke being Tom dramatically falling down onto one knee to tease her after she accidentally tells him that it’s always been how she wants to get proposed to. The inside joke makes the both of them think a lot about their future and cuteness ensues! I hope that you like it!

Side note: The film was everything I wanted it to be and more? It owns my entire heart? The cast did so well and I’m so happy for all of them and my heart is just overflowing with love and I’m going to see the film again tomorrow!

I’m On My Knee

“He makes me want to wear a white dress and walk down the aisle.” She murmured to her boyfriend, utterly and completely inebriated. “I want to learn how to cook so he can always come home to a hot meal. He makes me want to learn more so that I’ll always have new things to talk to him about, and he makes me want to take care of myself so that I can look good for him. I wanna read every book on the planet earth and watch every film, just so I have stories to tell him before we go to sleep. But, mostly, he makes me wanna wear a white dress and walk down the aisle.”

    Tom smiled, securing a strong arm around her waist before she had the opportunity to slip from the barstool she was trying to twirl on. Holding her still, he questioned, “anything else you want, darling?”

    Lurching forward, she twined her arms around his neck and moved to perch on his knee. She shoved her face into Tom’s neck and breathed in deeply, dragging her hands across the expanse of her boyfriend’s chest. He smelled of french cologne, the fabric of his shirt felt soft beneath her cheek, and she was so close to him that she could count the beats of his heart. “I love you.”

    Supporting her frame, Tom kissed the top of her head, “I love you more.” She sighed into his chest and Tom helped her to her feet, making sure that he still had her locked in his arms. “Let’s get you home now, drunky.”

“I want him on his knee like in the old films,” she added before she allowed Tom to guide her to their parked car.

    Truly, Tom felt the same way about her, but there was no way that he wouldn’t tease her about her intoxicated confession every chance he got. He’d been dreaming about how beautiful she’d look walking down the aisle to meet him since their third date and it comforted him that she seemed to feel the same way.

    She knew that she had majorly screwed up the next morning when Tom dropped down onto one knee, offering her a bottle of advil and a glass of water to soothe the pounding in her head that refused to be ignored.

    “On my knee, baby, just how you wanted!” Tom smiled, his curls flopping down in his eyes in the most endearing of ways. She hated that he looked so cute while he was so successfully embarrassing her.

    Groaning, she brought her hands up to cover her face, “Tom, stop! I told you that I was just drunk. Let it go!” She pleaded, blush spreading as far as the tips of her ears.

    Her boyfriend feigned hurt feelings, “well, if you were truly joking, guess I’m out of here. Gotta go get me a girl who’s in it for the long haul.” Tom joked as he moved to walk out the door.

    “Tom,” she whined before rushing forward to keep him in place with a hug. “Stop being so dumb and help me make pancakes. You flip them better than I do.”

    Smiling down at her, Tom took of her hands within his own and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, “One day, I’ll be way more than just your boyfriend who flips pancakes better than you do. One day, I’ll be your husband who flips pancakes better than you do.” Tom laughed, picking her up to spin her around the kitchen.

    She was happy that Tom was focused on not dropping her or running into anything because she was even pinker than she’d thought previously possible and she was positive that the smile on her face was so huge that her face would crack into halves. It didn’t matter that she didn’t have the greatest job, it didn’t matter that she was absolute shit at math, in fact, she couldn’t think of anything that mattered to her more than what Tom had just said. He was planning on a future with her and she was so elated that she spent the entire rest of her week floating from place to place on a bed made of cotton candy clouds.

    The next time Tom dropped to one knee for her, it was in the flower shop while she was sifting through bins of tulip bouquets for their friend’s dinner party. “Because I love you,” Tom said, holding out a bundle of daisies.

    Rolling her eyes, she took the flowers and bent forward to kiss Tom tenderly on the mouth. “Because I love you,” she repeated back to him before taking both bouquets to the register while Tom struggled to free his wallet before she could pay for her daisies.

    The time after that, Tom fell to one knee when she had come home with smudged mascara and tears dripping from the corners of her eyes. Hurrying off the couch, he dropped to one knee in front of her, pulling her to perch softly onto his popped knee. “What’s the matter darling?”

    Shrugging her shoulders, her lower lip trembled and she merely hid her face in Tom’s neck.  Stroking her hair and mumbling the words to ‘Moon River’ into her ears, Tom waited for her to tell him what was upsetting her. He did his best to search his mind for anything he could’ve done, anything her friend’s could’ve done, anything at home that could have upset her and came back with nothing. Tom briefly had a fleeting feeling that he was failing as her husband until it clicked in his brain that he hadn’t ever gotten down on one knee before her to present her with an actual ring.

    That night, while she snuggled into the crook of his arm, her face hidden so close to his neck that Tom could feel her lips press into his skin, he looked up some photos of rings. Each time Tom found a particularly nice ring, he’d zoom in and envision it on her lovely hands. Looking down at her hand that was loosely curled around his waist, he murmured to her sleeping form, “nobody, not even the rain,has such small hands.” His girl had been on an E.E. Cummings kick and clearly the poetry she read aloud to him had rubbed off on Tom.

    Placing his phone back into it’s charging station on their nightable, Tom laid down and  made sure to lace his fingers through her own before he shut eyes to sleep, agreeing with E. E. Cummings  that nobody had such small hands. Such small hands that a glittering ring would only compliment.

    The next weekend, as she and Tom strolled through the supermarket to grab some fresh vegetables and fruit, and maybe a loaf of bread to go along with dinner, Tom spotted the baked goods aisle. Getting completely sidetracked, Tom stood staring at the pastries while she carried on in search of the produce section. Glancing at her retreating figure and then back at the deserts, Tom grabbed an armful of cookies, cinnamon rolls and cupcakes before hurrying after her.

    Her eyes widened when she saw her boyfriend nearly skipping towards her, arms overflowing with pastries. “Tom,” she started, cocking her hip and raising her brows, “that is ridiculous. Pick one thing, we already have too many snacks as it is!”

    “No, no, darling, you don’t get it. We’d leave the cinnamon rolls for breakfast, and we could eat the cookies as a snack, and then the cupcakes could be after dinner.” Tom tried to ration.

    “Tom, I’ll eat them all and then get bigger and you know I’m trying to look good this summer!” She whined, shaking her head and silently pleading for Tom to at least put one of the items he was holding back.

    Shuffling the food around in his arms, Tom attempted to clutch all the food with only one hand. Gently moving her hair away from her eyes, Tom kissed her temple. “Darling, you know that you’re perfect. There’s nothing wrong with how you look, and nothing would be wrong with how you look even if you decided to inhale the entire pastry department on your own. I love the way you think, how kind you are to others, and you’re one of the smartest and least arrogant people that I know! I love you for your heart, and your brain. I thank the universe every night for your lungs and your kidneys, because they make you. You’re sweet-ass body just happens a perk of loving you.”

    Tom kissed her one last time before dropping down onto one knee before her, “c’mon angel, please?” He asked one last time.

    Rolling her eyes at her boyfriend’s cheesiness, she placed the cupcakes and the cinnamon rolls in her basket before leading Tom over to the fruit and asking him to pick out the crunchiest apples for their salad.

    When Tom fell to one knee again, it was after she had gone shopping with her friends and was currently modeling her new purchases at his request. She had exited the bathroom in which she was changing in, wearing an extremely short, white dress that left very little, if anything to Tom’s imagination. The dress was littered with small, red roses and had straps that were tied into a bow. As she twirled for him, Tom could see that the straps were the only thing holding her new dress together and by the time that she’d stopped her spinning, Tom was on one knee.

    “Should I take this off myself or do you wanna get up off the floor and help me?” She giggled, toying with the bow sitting atop her shoulder blade.

    As Tom carefully untied her dress and watched it fall to the ground, he muttered, “pretty ring would go nice with the roses.”

    She could barely hear what Tom had said, let alone comprehend it, as he began to pepper her exposed body with warm kisses. Stuttering out an barely audible, “uh-huh,” as Tom mouthed over the sensitive spot she had just beneath her ear.

    As time went on, “I’m on my knee,” became a phrase that she would hear from Tom almost as frequently as he said “I love you.” He’d drop to his knee in public, private, essentially everywhere they went. She was nearly convinced that Tom on his knee wouldn’t ever mean anything other than their inside joke, but little did she know how Tom feeling.

    Each time he dropped down onto one knee before her, it always made him long to obtain a ring to present her with. Considering that he was on his knee for her essentially everyday now, so much so that even the press was completely desensitized to photos of Tom on his knee before his girl, he was legitimately out and about looking for rings.

    He’d recruited his mother to assist with the search, begged Harrison, Jacob, his brothers, his father, and even her mother to help him with the search, but none of them could find a ring that Tom felt was worthy of her hands. Each time someone would send him a photo of a ring that left Tom dissatisfied, which was often, he’d simply send back the verse from ‘Somewhere I Have Never Traveled, Gladly Beyond,’ regarding the smallest of hands. At this point, nobody was sure what he meant. Once Harrison had tried to clarify what exactly the rain having tiny hands had to do with the ring search, but he came back describing a look of genuine craziness in his best mate’s eyes and decided to drop it.

    It was only after Tom had wandering into an antique shop with his mother that he found something perfect for her. The wedding ring was vintage and even came with an engagement ring, and after Tom had spent countless hours on the weekend thrifting and wandering in an out of hidden gem shops with his girl, he knew that she’d love it.

    Tom could only hide the ring for about a week. He was utter and complete shit at hiding things, especially from her, and the ring felt as if it was burning a hole through his pocket. He couldn’t wait to let the whole world know that she was going to his forever and he’d be hers for just as long. Tom just needed to create the perfect moment.

    Luckily for him, the perfect moment came the very next morning. Tom trailed behind her, kissing the back of her neck softly as she laughed and threaded her fingers up through his curls. They were deep within the poetry section of the most massive library Tom had ever seen and when she reached up to grab a novel, Tom felt as if the wind got knocked out of him. In her hands sat a copy of E. E. Cummings collected poems and while she sifted through the pages, Tom prayed inwardly to the universe for her to read the poem that he knew was destined to be hers.

    Not allowing her time to chose a poem, Tom dropped down to one knee while her back was still turned on him. Digging the ring out from the confines of his pocket, he could only get the last few lines of the poem out. “I do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice in your eyes is deeper than all roses.”

    As Tom neared the end of the poem, she turned and opened her mouth to say the last verse with him. “Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.” She smiled, completely prepared to meet Tom’s eyes as she finally faced him.

    At first, the only thing her mind could register was that her boyfriend was on his knee, as always. It took her a second to take in the ring that glittered off of the library’s bright ceiling chandelier. Pressing a hand over her lips, she struggled to breath, her small hands gripping the open poetry book in her hands. “Do you mean it, Tom?” She questioned, her eyes flicking down to the ring he was presenting her with.

    His eyes were glassy in the light, and Tom smiled, “course I do, darling. I’m on my knee after all.”


Morning Pleasure*

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader
Rating: Explicit - 18+ only
Summary: Reader wants to eat the breakfast Chris has cooked for her, but he has other plans. Blame your too sexy denim shorts!
Word Count: 1.7k
Genre: NSFW/SMUT
Warning: Long detailed oral sex (female receiving).

Gifs used below aren’t mine, credit to the rightful owners.

Freshly out of your morning shower, you finished adding the last touches to your light makeup after you had gotten dressed in your favorite denim shorts and a white cotton blouse.

Walking in the kitchen, you followed the smell of the pancakes and fresh fruits that Chris had cooked, accompanied by the exotic effluvia of hot coffee. You smiled at the sight of your boyfriend too busy to notice your presence as his back was turned to you, humming the slow melody of a song you both loved.

You walked up to him and folded your arms around his broad chest, wrapped by his Henley shirt, planting a longing and loving kiss at the back of his neck as he smiled widely.

“Hmm, what did I do so special for you to cook this morning?” You murmured.

“You came into my life,” Chris accompanied your mocking laugh and you moved your body to rest against the counter, standing next to him.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about our trip to Boston next week and…” you trailed off, noticing Chris’ baby blue gaze remaining locked on your frame. “What, you don’t like the outfit?“ You interrogated, checking out, yet he didn’t answer and kept looking at you.

His gaze was so ardent that you almost forgot how to breathe properly. Every time your man laid his eyes on you with such fierce, you felt the desire rising inside.

“Chris?”

Your boyfriend eventually looked up at your blown eyes, licking his full lips and you could see his pupils dilating slowly as he drank in the view from his orbs like he had been in the desert for long days of a burning hot summer.

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BTS Scenario: Morning Sex Maknae line

Warnings: SMUT and a light choking kink with one of the maknae members…you’ve been warned.

Requested by anon: A bts reaction to morning sex. 

I did it in a scenario format instead. Enjoy everyone!

Here’s hyung line :) 


Park Jimin:

You turned around to give Jimin a hug, but instead was met with emptiness, the warmth of his spot was all that lingered, signs that he had just gotten up. Groggily, you got up to survey the house, wanting nothing but to hug your boyfriend, who’d just gotten back late that night from a long tour, and found him making some coffee in the kitchen.

To your unknowing luck, he only had on a pair of black and red plaid pajama pants that hung just right around his waist. The hug you had wanted earlier turned into something more as his strong, chiseled back muscles that flexed with every small movement, so you walked up behind him, running your hands up his warm back and around his waist.

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I wonder why each little bird has a someone to sing to

i got a few requests for a companion piece to the gifts of beauty and song, my retold sleeping beauty fairytale, so here you go

so maleficent is the good fairy here, right, and the three fairies are the bad ones, so like fae do they each appear to be what they’re not. and aurora, given fae gifts and raised by fae, is nearly fae herself. maleficent knows that only an elf could hope to sway a fae heart, because elves are impervious to their glamour. maleficent kidnaps the young prince philip, and brings him to the elven realm. she tries to bargain a prince for a prince, but the king is unswayed. a human prince, he declared, is only worth an elvish servant, so that’s what she gets.

maleficent takes the servant and puts him in philip’s place, gives him that name, and watches as the servant elf is made a prince among mortals, watches as he eventually captures aurora’s heart, and saves her from her living death. watches as the elf servant turned prince becomes a king, as the almost-fae princess aurora becomes queen, and their two kingdoms become one and they rule the land of men together.

this, of course, begs the question – what happens to our dear human philip?

he is not the first child that has been bargained away to the elves, and elf queen thalia settles the young boy on her hip and raises an eyebrow at her husband, waiting. the child awakens by degrees, until he’s clutching her neck and blinking at the gathered elves. thalia is only grateful that he hasn’t started screaming, like so many of his kind do.

normally the children that are bargained to them are put to work in the castle, where they’re safe, where their clumsiness and their ignorance and their mistakes will be glossed over, where she and the king will ensure they will be politely ignored rather than harassed. they’ve lost a servant boy, and so she’s sure a servant boy is what this young human is meant to become.

except a woman of the court steps forward, and she’s old, old enough that it shows, that her curly hair has gone silver and wrinkles are etched deep in her face. lady ember is older than the forests they reside in, is older than her grandmother, than her great grandmother. everyone’s lost track of her exact age, but she’s the oldest elf in village. thalia likes her – she and lady ember have skin of the same dark shade. thalia hopes that if she is to live long enough, she and lady ember would look alike.

“i would like the child,” she says, eyes like amber, and for the moment she appears younger than she ever has. there’s something eager in her, and it brings a life to her that thalia hasn’t seen in a long time.

thalia looks to her husband, and king celedor gives a minuscule twitch to his lip which is an equivalent to a shrug. she sets the young human on the ground, and ember holds out a single hand. the child looks behind him, then in front him, and takes cautious steps forward. he steps until he can take her hand, his own looking small and pale in hers. “it’s been a long time since i was able raise a child,” ember says, “i would like to do so again. will you come home with me?”

and thalia understands. elf children take many hundreds of year to mature, and ember would not risk dying on a child before it could take care of itself. but humans are candles that burn at both ends – hot, and fast. within a decade or two the child in front of them will be able to survive on his own, will not need lady ember to coddle him for centuries.

he nods, and finally opens his mouth to say, “i am philip.”

“hello philip,” lady ember smiles, “i am lady ember of the mother tree. now you are lord philip of the ember tree.”

they are elves. they don’t do something as gauche as gasp, but the sentiment comes out just the same. celedor’s mouth drops open a millimeter and thalia’s right index finger twitches. raise a human child like a beloved pet they could all understand – but to adopt one, to truly adopt one that she’d just met and didn’t know and bequeath to him the estate and title the noble name of the mother tree?

lady ember leads her new son away, and the gathered elves can do nothing but stare.

~

prince elion – eli, to everyone who doesn’t want the prince of the elves nursing a personal grudge against them – comes home in the dead of night, when he can slip past the guards and the fawning people on the street and sneak into the royal quarters.

“mother,” he greets as he enters the library. his father sleeps early, but his mother doesn’t go to bed until nearly dawn. he kneels by her side, and she runs a hand through his hair, tugging the leather tie off when it gets in her way. his mass of dark curly hair tumbles around his head, and as he shakes it out leaves other debris fall out. thalia sighs, but doesn’t remark on it.

“your hunt went well?” she asks, although she knows the answer. eli is one of the best hunters in the kingdom, and his hunting parties – comprised of the strongest and best among the noble families – are notoriously profitable.

he grins, teeth extra white against his skin, “of course, mother. did anything interesting happen while i was away?”

“the faerie maleficent came and bargained away a human prince,” she says, “she wanted you in return. your father gave her a servant boy instead.”

eli laughs, too loud and boisterous, in a way he would never allow himself to laugh around his father or his subjects.

~

philip thinks perhaps he should be screaming, or crying, or causing some sort of fuss about this new life and this old woman who insists she’s his mother now. but he’s never had a mother before, and this new place is beautiful. they live in palace carved out of an enormous tree – the mother tree that their name comes from – and philip is given a lot more freedom as an elf lordling than he was as a prince.

he hopes the boy who took his place is nice to his father, and doesn’t mind long evenings with only the servants for company. being a prince can be very lonely. he knows from experience.

ember gives him rooms and toys, but warns him that he has a lot of work ahead of him. as a human, he’s at a severe disadvantage here at the elf court. elves are faster than humans, stronger and smarter and wiser. “it sounds to me,” philip says, “that maybe they’re just older. if i had hundreds of years, I could be all those things too.” ember’s eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles, and he returns it.

philip knows hard work. he was set to rule a whole nation, was set to lead whole armies. he knows training and learning and patience. learning to become an elf lord seems like it will be a lot easier than being a human king.

lady ember and her servants are harsh, but fair. in their home, in the mother tree, he is a pampered lord. out of it, however – he acquires many scars from training, from falling and failing. ember and her staff run him ragged into the ground, because he must be able to keep up with elves.

they have hundreds and hundreds of years to practice, to become strong and smart and fast. philip doesn’t have that long, so his mother forces him to do more, train harder, learn faster than would be expected of any elf.

so he learns. the first time he beats his trainer at an archery competition, he feels a swell of pride like nothing he’s felt before. as he inches his way to the level of his teachers, and then surpasses them, the feeling stays.

they’ve always been kind to him. but as his skill grows, they come to respect him, and that’s far more valuable.

~

eli hears of the human that lady ember of the mother tree took as her own – of course he does, it’s all anyone can talk about. but he doesn’t actually get a chance to see the boy, because lady ember keeps him safe on her lands, in her tree that none of them dare trespass on. so he assumes, like many, that she keeps him coddled and safe, away from those who would seek him harm, away from a world that would seek him harm.

then, two decades from when she gave young philip her name, lady ember finds him at court. she tilts her head, and he bows. he may be higher in rank, but he was raised to respect his elders, and lady ember is certainly that. “prince eli,” she says, “your next hunt is coming up, isn’t it?”

“yes, my lady,” he answers, wondering if she has a request. he doesn’t mind tracking down a certain type of meat or pelt for her – he likes the challenge, and likes lady ember.

she smiles at him, and for some reason he feels as if he’s staring into the jaws of a dragon. “excellent. might my son join you? he grows bored of hunting on his own.”

the last thing in the world eli wants to do is keep an eye on a bumbling, spoiled human. but this human is also the lord of the mother tree, and he can think of no response that wouldn’t bring his mother’s wrath down on his head. “of course, lady ember.”

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Everything's a Show For You

A/N: Loki is tired of constantly being shadowed by Thor, so he decides to show you just how good he is.

_____________________________________

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, kissing, grinding, oral (both reviving), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, vaginal Sex, dirty talk.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.

Originally posted by memoriescuselove-lovekills--blog

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Happy Mornings

A/N: I know I have been AWOL, my computer has been very stupid and annoying. Let me know what you guys think xox 

SMUT WARNING

Number Request from Smut Prompt List.

Masterlist

“You’re n-not, um, w-wearing anything under that, are you…?”                     “Are you trying to turn me on right now or are you really just that oblivious?”                                                                                                        “I-I just wasn’t expecting that. But I liked it. A lot.”


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Protected | R.M.

Summary: Reggie Mantle grew up protecting what he loved.


I miss you.

You received the text on the first day of school, the instant your baby pink ballet flats maneuvered within the halls of Riverdale High, which were marginally filled with mayhem from everyone’s first day jitters.

Well, not everyone. You, despite your extra pretty face, extra shiny curls, and extra preppy outfit, wore a heavy façade that drooped lower than the Maybelline Fit Me-concealed eye-bags that were situated below your unexplained, cheery eyes that tried to greet everyone with much positivity as possible. As everyone knew your perfect reputation, the happy-go-lucky cheerleader that everyone admired and loved since the day you entered high school. It was never tarnished, so you refused to let a silly break-up move it at all.

You took out your phone and shakily gazed down at the message. It was sent in clear, with no emoji’s or silly grammatical errors. Your nervous fingers moved for you, but your brain was being silly that day and it had no planned response for the text message.

A wave of students accidentally crossed and one of them partially collided against your hardly five feet tall physique, which was a thankful jolt that rattled you off from replying to the text message. You squeezed the iPhone tightly, bearing no mind of the glittery fake diamonds from the phone case bearing harsh indentions against your palm.

The moment you were able to fix your locker and lock it behind you, you immediately set off to find a seat in the gym—hoping that an early departure from the first day madness would create a false sense of comfort from your inevitable fate, which was meeting your ex-boyfriend again subsequently after a summer of trying to forget all about him.


Everyone had always said that you were perfect for Reginald Mantle.

You were a girl blessed with your father’s dominant sloped nose and your mother’s graceful and tiny, ballerina body. Being the only child meant being under the revolving gaze of your mother and father’s watchful eyes twenty-four/seven, and you grew up to be accordingly limpid; yet, at the same time pretentious for you were the heir of one of the wealthiest families in Riverdale.

Reggie was a boy meant for you even before you knew what he was supposed to be. He was a constant person in your life, a fixture caused by your parents and his parents’ meddling. Though, despite your unending play times together and a hired tutor that taught you and him up until you were in middle school, Reggie and you grew up in different paths, in different aspects.

You and Reggie were in the opposite sides of the spectrum. Nevertheless, you were inexplicably drawn to him. He was exactly the same as you, but as the same time, so, so different.

He was difficult to figure out. He had pushed children off swing sets and had hogged all the toy cars to himself as he disliked sharing. You hated the smirk on his face when he teased his inferiors, and still you loved him when he kissed you goodnight. He’d hold you in the softest way possible, muscled arms entrapped around you with touch as light as a feather, and similarly he’d used the same arms dangerously with heated intent at someone else.

You never got why people often told you that he was perfect for you. He was, in your point of view, a mixture of positives and negatives. He was your opposite.

The thing about opposites was that when a unity occurred, it would be a co-existent dependency that held itself with tension.

You loved him more than he loved himself. That was probably the reason why the balance wasn’t right and he pushed himself off, leaving you in the dust.


“Are you alright?” Surprisingly, Cheryl Blossom would be the first person to question you that today. The said Blossom stood above you, her red curls down the right side of her chest, a hand on her hip and a raised eyebrow. You tried to hide the flinch that came with Cheryl’s edged tone, but she assumingly noticed it since she took it herself to sit next to you on that noisy lunch table.

“Talk to me,” she demanded. “I don’t want anyone on my squad to be sadder than my supposed star quality. You cannot rain on my parade on this week’s performance.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered as you picked on your salad.

“[y/n], a stupid boy doesn’t have the right to state your mood status.” She hissed. “There are 7 billion people in the world. God knows how much boys will there be after your life post-Reggie Man—“

“Damn, Cheryl,” You stood up. “I said I’m fine!”

Your words were a little too loud, and laced with anger. The whole open-lawn cafeteria went into a full pregnant pause from your little burst and your eyes betrayed you as it went to a familiar face that you couldn’t just let go off. His smirking, never ceasing, hardly-caring face wavered slightly as he looked your way, as everyone had. He looked down once before pushing his left foot off benched on the seat and faced in the opposite direction, going back into a conversation with Chuck Clayton.

You couldn’t care less what that meant and you sped off from your table, grabbing your cellphone with you. Opening the text message up on your interface, your quivering fingers typed out a reply before hitting send.


“I thought you said I couldn’t see you again,” the tall and handsome boy chuckled as he sat coolly on the stools that they had in Pop’s. His tousled, brown waves would shine into a blondish side under the neon lights of Pop’s infamous signs, and his pretty blue eyes would turn your messy head into a complete haze of white noise. “I missed you,” Jackson voiced out, echoing what he had recently texted you that morning.

It was seven in the evening, and mostly everyone had this night tacked to watch the last screening due for the closing Midnight Drive-In. You had thought to go but you knew that it would simply be another place that would haunt you again with memories that happened in the arms of a familiar stranger.

“I couldn’t resist,” you whispered zealously, biting your lip, then striding towards him until both of your faces had no space with each other. He kissed back passionately, and you followed along in accord, ignoring the way your heart bleated in a monotonous fashion, like it was a routine you followed every morning. Fingers tracing down his rugged, jean jacket, you stopped as it went to a tracing on his arm. A tattoo of a dangerous serpent.

“Watch it,” he pushed himself off you and went to slip down his sleeves. “Any good ‘ole folk wouldn’t wanna see that snake on a young thing’s skin.”

“A young thing, huh?” You titled your head, letting him caress your cheek. It made you feel like being touched by an intruder. You held your tongue from stating that out loud. “I heard that your buddies are over at the drive-in tonight.”

“—yeah,” the handsome, rugged boy agreed, holding your hand like a whisper. “But you’re much better than any movie, let’s agree. Pretty and innocent [y/n][y/l/n].”

“If my father saw you with me,” you told him with a trace of a smile hinting on your lips while leading the boy down to a booth. “He would freak,” you ended with a pendulous but crude smirk, as the feeling of going behind your parents’ back often created a brilliant feeling of teenage rebellion.

However, the light that would go unperturbed that night beneath the luminescence of you with the boy from the Serpents would go back unlit as a sudden burst of unexpected customers walked in the empty Pop’s.

It was a famous group of blue and yellow hues, the king, the boy in between the boisterous and rowdy laughs, and you couldn’t help but shake as his eyes immediately turned toward the serpent and your contumacious self.

“[y/n]?” Reggie Mantle took it upon himself to breeze through the rows of booths with a face of disbelief, his voice rising. And as you expected, anger rising as his comical face slowly slipped to stone cold when his eyes landed on the lingering fingers of the serpent teenager on your arm. “Who the hell is he?”  

“Fuck off, Reggie,” you glared, bringing yourself to whisper to your current partner beside you, “Ignore him.” You tried your best to act a casual as possible, though the sudden racing of your heart that went with the way your ex-boyfriend stared at you in a mix of hardening confusion and indignation.

The other football players were left in a fit of widening eyes as Reggie, in impulsion, went and grabbed your arm in fury, “I’m taking you home.”

And it was a laughable scene, provided that you have been in witness in a circumstance like this before; on the contrary, you were always behind him before, supporting him like a good girlfriend. Until now.

Reggie showed the chaos within him through the bones between his knuckles—several scars made proof of that. Now, you were his enemy, the one that caused the fire beneath his eyes. The booths made a guarded ring.

“What the hell, man—“ The serpent boy scoffed before Reggie snapped and gripped and landed a good punch with no regret on the other boy’s face. That started a full-blown fight, which lead pandemonium where Moose, Chuck, and several others hurriedly tried to pull the Asian off the other boy. Reggie’s blows were pernicious, and over the yells of the football team trying to stop the fight, the only thing you could do was watch everything in horror.


“—fighting on public property, what on earth caused you to do that?!” And Mrs. Mantle let out a startled shriek and tried to shield her son as Mr. Mantle gave a tumultuous slap on Reggie’s already bruising face. You gripped your jacket, feeling the cotton and thinking of it as abrasive as hooves, guilt going off you in waves as the only thing you could do was watch the aftermath unfold in the Mantle estate, where you had been protectively ushered off to with your parents and Sheriff Keller due to Pop’s emergency dial.

“This is getting out of hand,” Reggie’s father continued, a harsher than stern look on his purple face. Yanking back his hand, his gaze shot to you, which you couldn’t bear to hold longer than a second. “This boy has been nothing but trouble this year—I swear, this was the last straw, Reginald. I need to ship him to board—“

“It was my fault,” you found your voice, hurried and not gentle at all—willing to cross out the guilt killing your tightening chest. Your parents’ tension-heavy faces whipped their heads to you, their protected daughter that could hardly do no wrong in this world. “I came there with Jackson—“

“No, I fought him, she had nothing to do with th—“ Reggie hastily claimed, harsh and scarily void of emotion. He was seemingly too callous from responding to his father—and you had realized that this could have been happening more so than none and that this boy could have grown up this way, and while your heart was pouring from hearing him protect you, you knew that it was your call to turn things around.

“No,” you squeaked, hearing yourself panic. “I guess I was being rebellious, I met up with Jackson, and – and- “ You eyed your father. “He was with me and Reggie saw me and Jackson did something and he got provoked,” you finished, lying. You looked at Reggie, and he gazed at you, turmoil and hurt swirling in his eyes.

That led to a tension-filled silence. You closed your eyes, and could hear the sounds of Reggie’s father’s footsteps going off to a direction. Somewhere that’s not here, of course.


“Sorry, that shouldn’t have happened,” he would tell you days later, smirk latched to his lips like a boy to a candy bar. He’d say it would no feeling, no emotion, as if he wasn’t someone that was in what happened and he was merely a person who’d heard of what happened.

The memory of his father slapping him because of you would haunt you forever, and your eyes would wander to his cheek not due to any romantic purpose, but the ache of wondering how much it hurt to protect you, a person he shouldn’t even be caring for anymore.

“I’m sorry,” you ignored his first statement, and spat out what you needed to say. The hallways were empty. “I was being petty. I wanted to—“ The words were dignified to be stated out in the open. “I wanted to forget about you.”

His silence mocked you. The 6’3 handsome and usually word-y jock—the boy you really, just really, really loved, gazed at you as if your turbulence, though with a slip of concern on his façade. You continued, lips burning with words you only imagined you would say in a dream, “You hurt me, Reggie. I hated you for making me spend a summer without you. So, yeah. I did something. I slept with that douchebag, that serpent, just to forget about you. So, fuck you.”

The response was instant. An utter storm shadowed over his face. “Fuck me? Fuck me? Are you fucking kidding me?” His fingers wrapped tightly around his coifed hair, eyes blazing with chasms of void and anger. “The only thing I ever did was goddamn protect you! If you hadn’t been so stupid, you wouldn’t be in this mess. I shouldn’t have protected you from the start if it was going to lead this way.”

“Protected me from the start?” You questioned, beckoned with hatred.

“Yes! I’ve always been protecting you. I love you, [y/n]. So much. The reason I ended things is because you were going to end up broadcasted on this shitty book and—“ Reggie sighed and you looked at him confusingly. He stepped forward, “Look, last year I was in hell. My dad caught me doing some stupid shit and he was going to blame it on you. I needed to protect you, it was instinct. I had to break up with you because I couldn’t bear the guilt that—“

This time, it was your turn to slap him. Reggie snapped his head back at you, shocked.

“You stupid jerk,” your body shook from relief and at the same time, numbness. “You couldn’t have at least told me about that? I literally cried for a week because I thought I wasn’t good enough for you, the great Reggie freaking Mantle.”

Reggie stared at what only could have been eons, before shaking his head and returning a soft gaze that was only for you. “I’m sorry.”

You could shake your head as he placed out his warm hand next to yours, swirling and wrapping it around yours in the gentlest way possible.


It was an epiphany, when you looked at him and you had finally seen a glimpse of an extent that he would do for you. The balance was off and you had thought of it in the wrong way.

He loved you more than he loved himself.


omg i’m so sorry. whenever i write i’d always get so carried away with excessive details and annoying character musings!!! please tell me what you think! feel free to reblog or like or message me! always open to hear what you guys think huehue. :) 

a stroke of fuck | one

pairing: sehun x reader, jongin x reader, yixing x reader
genre: fuckboy!au, college!au, smut, angst?, series
summary: there was good in the world to balance the bad, but when it comes to boys are they good for anything except breaking hearts and causing trouble?

pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3 / pt.4 / pt.5

A/N: AS ALWAYS I DIDNT PROOFREAD THIS, please let me know what you think D:

Originally posted by intokai

“Fuck, you’re getting my dick so wet,” Sehun moaned while seeing the way his dick glistened with wetness. Biting his lip, he threw his head back and smirked. How did he get so lucky? Looking back down, he pushed the girl’s thigh further back, giving him the best view of how his dick stretched out her pussy. Another slew of filthy words left the boy’s mouth as he leaned over the moaning girl’s body. His large left hand moved beside her head, his chest on hers, nipples rubbing against each others as he slowly pushed his thick, pulsating dick back inside her.

Lifting her right leg, she wrapped it around his thin waist as their bodies roughly rocked the bed. The headboard slamming against the wall brought her closer to her long awaited orgasm. Her senses began overloading. Sehun’s hot breaths against her stretched neck that adorned three hickies, the short curls just above his hard dick that brushed against her swollen clit, his hand that had a firm grip on her thigh to stop her squirming.

“That’s right squeeze my dick,” he groaned against her jaw. Increasing the speed of his thrusts, he lifted his left hand and began rolling her hard nipple between his fingers. “I’m so close,” her whimpers added to the noise of undeniable lewd acts.

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A Pile Of Sticky Notes (Richie Tozier x Reader)

Richie Tozier x Fem!Reader

*Please don’t plagiarize my work, thank you :3*

Summary: You and Richie had a thing going, and by ‘thing’ you mean rivalry. On the outside you hate him with all your might, but secretly you’ve been slipping love notes into his locker and praying no one ever sees you. Knowing your rotten luck, the person who catches you in the act is the one person you never wanted to be caught by. 

Warnings: Cussing, because it’s Richie… Obviously. Also kissing an’ shit, and this was requested by @ireland37, who wrote their own series based off the idea. Check it out!

Word Count: 1,304


“Is it hard to be this stupid, or does it come naturally?”

Richie snorted and, grinning widely, raised his middle finger at you. You didn’t notice the red tint to his face every time the two of you argued and he never knew that your chest wanted to explode whenever he insulted you, which was odd, but it happened anyway. Whether or not he had a comeback, you enjoyed the banter.

“If you want to talk about things that come naturally then you should see me in bed.” He fires back, crumpling paper into a ball and throwing it at you. You ducked and frowned, craning your neck to look at him. You were about to say something but the teacher walked in and shushed the class, and you were forced to turn back to the front.

Halfway through the boring class, you heard a quiet ‘thwip’ sound and felt something hit the back of your head. Your hand darted up to feel your hair, pulling a tiny ball of crumpled paper out of the locks. It was, to your absolute disgust, slimy.

“Bleh! That’s disgusting!”

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Lay it on me- Jughead Jones

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: This is a continuation of “Wipe it off of me”, reader wants to try some stuff out with her boyfriend ;-D

(Read Part 1 )

Warnings: THERES SO MUCH SIN THAT EVEN HOLY WATER CANT SAVE ME. AVERT YOUR EYES, SMALL CHILDREN.

———————————–

The next day after what happened with Jughead, I immediately went to Veronica. She was my best friend, and I trusted her completely with my life, so I also trusted the fact that she would explain to me what the hell I should be doing when it comes to…..things like this.

“Veronica, I just, I’m not entirely sure how I feel about all this kinky stuff, but I know that if there’s somebody I’m comfortable enough with, it’s him, And Jughead, sometimes with the way he is, he, he…” I trailed off, crossing one leg over the other on Veronica’s mattress.

“Turns you on?” Veronica asked, a giggly tone in her voice as she spun around in her vanity chair to look at me.

“Yes.” I admitted, heat spreading across my cheeks quickly.

“Girl, I get what you mean, every time I see Betty in that cheer uniform-” Veronica dramatically draped herself over her chair, fanning herself with her hand. “ my gay ass heart just can’t handle it.” I rolled my eyes before standing up and swatting her in the arm.

“I’m serious, Ronnie! Jughead does.. Things to me! Things I’m not used to feeling! Things I seriously don’t like-” I cut myself off, groaning loudly in sexual frustration, and flopping back down on to Veronica’s bed face up. My arms sprawled out across the duvet and I sighed, turning my head to look at my friend now looking down at me.

“ He’s going to be the death of me, Ronnie. He really is.”

“Cheer up sunshine. Let me show you a few things first.”


———————-


I had left Ronnie’s house with a lot of ideas, and I planned to use them this weekend. The knowledge she had given gave me somewhat a surge of confidence, and I was positive that the rain check I had made with Jughead would be worth it. It was the next weekend when I finally acted upon my ideas.

My mom was going away for the weekend, which meant I would have the house all to myself.The last bell had rang, signaling to the students that they had just been relinquished their freedom and were free to leave the torturous hell that was Riverdale High (ok, maybe it wasn’t that bad, but I’m a drama queen). I saw Jughead standing in front of his locker, rummaging through It while Archie leaned against the locker beside him, hands moving as he told Jughead something. I quickly moved from in between Betty and Veronica, quickly making my way to my boyfriend. I grabbed his shoulder as he stood facing away, pulling him down backwards so my lips brushed against his neck, and whispered.

“My house, tonight. I wanna make good use of that rain-check.” I let go of Jughead, my hand pushing him slightly and his body sprang back in to his previous position, his mouth open. I was halfway down the hall when he turned around, and I just giggled before winking and blowing him a kiss.


———————


Instead of meeting Jughead at Pop’s, I went straight home, checking to make sure my mom had left for her trip. When I saw the empty driveway, I knew I was in the clear. I ran inside and up to my room, dropping my bag and trying to think of my next move. I figured taking a shower was good, so I took a quick one, making sure to shave even though I had done so a couple nights ago. I got out, towel-drying my hair and brushing my teeth before grabbing my nicest pair of bra and underwear. I wasn’t a huge lingerie person, but my mom had bought me a couple nice sets for my birthday, which I was now extremely thankful for.

I threw on a cami and a pair of (extremely short) shorts afterwards, before brushing my hair out and spraying a little perfume. When I was done, I went back down stairs.I occupied myself by getting a little something to drink, and messing around on my phone. I started to almost worry that Jughead wouldn’t show up, and my head started to get the best of me. What if he didn’t want this? What if I freaked him out and potentially ruined our relationship?

A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts, and I padded towards it, unlocking the bolt and swinging it open to see Jughead. He had his hands shoved in his pockets, his head raising to look at me. His eyebrows raised as he took in my appearance.

“Is your mom home?” He asked, stepping inside and locking the door behind him.

“No, she’s gone for the weekend. Business trip.”

“Good.” Jughead quickly had me pinned against the door, his hands wrapping around the back of my thighs and lifting me so my lower body was wrapped around his waist. His lips went to mine, kissing me roughly. My hands went around his neck, knocking his hat off when my fingers curled in to this hair. I tugged lightly and Jughead groaned against my lips. I broke apart from him, panting heavily.

“Do you uh, do you want something to eat?” I asked him, mentally face palming myself. Jughead laughed, his head falling in to the crook of my neck.

“Sure, what’s on the menu?” Jughead responded, lifting his head to look at me. I had an idea to fix the mood I just killed, bringing my lip between my teeth.

“Me.” Jughead looked taken aback for a second before a smug look took over his face.

“Hmm, dessert first. I like that idea.” Jughead leaned back down to kiss me, his lips on mine only for a second before trailing down my jaw and to my neck. Jughead began to litter my neck with dark, purple bruises, his body pressing in to mine. Jughead’s hands traveled down my body, his fingers slipping under my shirt. My breath hitched at the feeling of his warm hands on my cold skin, gripping at my waist firmly.

“M-maybe we should- we should go upstairs.” I panted, my breath heavy. Jughead adjusted his grip on my thighs before complying to my suggestion, stumbling a bit to find the stairs.

“You’re going to break your neck.” I giggled, clinging to his shoulders for dear life.

“Don’t undermine my masculinity.” Jughead pouted, climbing up the staircase with me still in his arms. I laughed at the clumsiness of my boyfriend as he actually managed to make it up the stairs, kicking my door open. Jughead dropped me down on to my bed, my back bouncing against the cool mattress. I sat up, reaching out and gripping Jughead’s jacket and tugging it off of him.

“Eager, are we?” Jughead taunted, helping me pull his jacket off. I rolled my eyes, my hands now going to the sweater underneath his jacket. I pulled it over his head to be met with another shirt.

“What is it with the layers?!” I groaned, my hands now working on getting the short sleeved shirt off. “Really, Forsythe, I thought when I invited you over, you would get the memo to wear less clothing.”

“Unless you wanted me to be a popsicle stick by the time I made it here, that wasn’t happening.” Jughead retorted, his hands going to my tank top.“ Although, I’m pretty sure I woulda been warm in a matter of moments anyways.” Jughead leaned down, his teeth biting gently at the skin on my neck, making my breath hitch in my throat. Jughead pulled my tank top off my body, his hands running down my sides and to my hips before gripping them tightly and pulling me closer to his body.

Jughead and I had had sex only a couple of times, the first time obviously being an awkward and romantic mess, and the second time almost being caught by Archie and Betty, who happened to live across the street from me.Jughead and I weren’t huge on sex, it wasn’t something we wanted to do 24/7 like a lot of the kids at our school, but the both of us had so much pent up sexual frustration lately that we were seconds away from creating tears in our remaining clothes.

Jughead grabbed the waistband of my shorts, slipping them down my thighs. I kicked them off before pushing Jughead over and down on to my bed. I unbuttoned the top of his skinny jeans, pulling them down his legs quickly before straddling Jughead, grinding down in to his hips. Jughead groaned, raising his hips to meet mine and I held them down with my hands, grinding my hips down harder on to him.

“Fuck.” Jughead moaned, his breath becoming heavier. I felt him get harder underneath me and I grinned, glad I was getting the reaction I wanted. I sat up, grabbing one of my scarves hanging off my bed frame and toying with it in my hands.

“You wanna try something?” I looked down at my boyfriend, his eyes wide and fixed upon the fabric slipping between my fingers.

“Lay it on me.” Jughead smirked and I grinned, taking his wrists in my hands. Jughead looked confused as I tied his hands to my bedpost, looking up at me.

“To be honest, I thought the roles would be reversed when you asked.” He chuckled, relaxing under my body.

“We’ve got the whole weekend, babe.” I reached behind my back, unclasping my bra and letting it fall off my shoulders. I flung it aside, my hands now traveling down my boyfriend’s body and running over his hard-on, hidden by the fabric of his boxers. I cupped it lightly before moving away.

“Do you really have to be a tea-ease.” Jughead groaned when my hand dipped under the elastic, wrapping my hand around him firmly. I slowly pumped my hand up and down, Jughead’s breathing becoming rapid. I pulled my hand down, my fingers pulling his boxers off and slipping my underwear off after. I leaned over Jughead’s body, grabbing a condom from the drawer of my nightstand.

I took the end of the foil package between my teeth, ripping it open. I was met with the gross taste of lube and a disgusted look swept across my face quickly.

“Why didn’t you just…. Open it with your hands??” Jughead tilted his head, stifling a laugh at my reaction to the flavorless substance.

“Veronica said it’d be sexier.” I scoffed, pulling the condom out of the package.“ Last time I take her advice.”

“Wait, you went to Veronica for advice on sex?” Jughead sat up a bit. I pushed him back down with my hand, looking shocked at my surprise burst of dominance.

“Jughead, I’m literally about to sit on your dick. Please don’t ruin the mood.” I pinched the tip of the condom, rolling it down Jughead’s penis. Jughead laid back down, eyes wide and looking at me. My knees went to either side of Jughead hips, my hand guiding him as I slowly sank down on to him. My hands went to my chest, my lower body feeling a bit tight and uncomfortable. When my thighs reached Jughead’s hips, I stopped, giving myself a moment to adjust before slowly beginning to rise up and sink back down on to him. I tried to keep a steady pace, my legs burning as I grinded down on to Jughead’s dick.

Jughead’s uneven breathing turned in to small groans and my hands went down his chest, my fingernails leaving scratch marks down his stomach. I began to go faster, already feeling worn out. Jughead’s hair was already starting to stick to his forehead, and my chest was glistening with a thin layer of sweat. I painted, picking up the pace even more and going as fast as I could.

Baby, baby untie me.” Jughead panted, wriggling his arms that were suspended over his head. I paused, leaning over and untying the knot of my scarf. When Jughead was free he immediately sat up, his arms wrapping around my body as he thrusted in to me. My head fell in to the crook of his shoulder, my nails dragging down the muscles in his back.

F-fuck, Forsythe, I-I’m-” my body tensed, the fuzzy feeling in my lower body and the twitching of my abdomen telling me I was close. Jughead flipped us over so I was on my back, his arms holding him up as he pounded in to me at a rapid pace.

My orgasm hit me like an oncoming train, my nails now digging deep in to Jughead’s skin and my back arching. My vision was blurry, colors and stars clouding my sight. Jughead came a few moments later, collapsing on top of my body. My arms went around his neck, my hands playing with the ends of his hair as I tried to calm my breathing.

Jughead eventually pulled out of me, his body leaving mine for a moment to discard the used condom before grabbing his sweater. He climbed back on to the bed, his hands pulling my body up in to a sitting position before pulling the sweater over my head.

“You know, I can dress myself. I’m not five.” I teased, pulling my arms through the sleeves of the long sweater. The end of the fabric went to my knees, reminding me of how tiny I was compared to my beanstalk of a boyfriend.

“I know.” Jughead was standing up, his boxers now on and his shirt slipping over his head. I raised my arms up, making grabby hands at him.

“Well if you’re going to treat me like I’m 5, then I demanded to be carried to the kitchen.” I pouted. Jughead turned to me, a grin on his face.

“As you wish.” Jughead’s arms went under my body, listing up like I was a feather. I squealed, clinging to him as he kicked my door open.

“So, why the kitchen?” Jughead asked, now carrying me back down the stairs he had carried me up about an hour ago.

“Well, I made dinner, and then after we ate, I thought we could test how sturdy the island in my kitchen is.” I bit my lip, looking at Jughead.

“I’m honestly convinced that I died and I have gone to heaven.” Jughead shook the fringe out of his face, dipping his head down and pressing his lips to mine.

I Like You [Min Yoongi]

Warning: Contains smut. Do not read if you are underage.

A/N: This is very, very long. Grab a coffee, sit back and enjoy. Thank you to @katythekitty for your suggestions with the plot. I guess in a way this is kind of your requests? Idk. 


‘Y/n?’ Yoongi’s voice questions softly as you stretch across the floor of the dorm, arms reaching above your head to get into that tight spot in your lower back. His foot pokes out from his position on the low couch, gently nudging your thigh to roll you slightly on your side.

‘Mmm?’ You respond, the sleepy tone in your voice giving away the true nature of your state. The few cans of beer were sitting heavily in your stomach, a beverage that since your college days had always had you yawning before the night was over. Lazily, you flop on your side, scooting across the wooden panelled floors.

‘I was just checking you were still awake. It’s 2am and the movie finished. Want me to flag a taxi for you?’ You let out a slow whine, body wrapping around his feet to clutch his ankles tightly.

‘Why, you don’t want to hang out with me?,’ You pout, clinging to his legs like a small, fluffy koala. You could almost feel his body tense under your touch, an audible breath hissing through his teeth as your arms claw their way up his black denim jeans. ‘C’mon, Yoongyoong. I thought we were having fun. We are only two movies into this Harry Potter marathon… We’ve still got another 6 to go. Where’s your stamina?’ Your hands reach up to tickle behind his knees, before sitting upwards to envelop the entire lower half of his leg into a hug.

‘Fuck… you’re weird.’ His face was still flat, expression blank as he watches you crawl your way up his body, coming to sit comfortably next to him, lounging into the comfort of the soft black fabric of the long hoodie he had chosen to wear. Instinctively, your hands wrap around his waist, head placing itself in the crook between his shoulder and arm.

‘You love it, though, right?’ It takes a second, his body heaving with a deep sigh - the air of which dusts lightly across the crown of your head - before you feel his arm drop, grasping your shoulder and pulling you a little closer to him.

‘Not really.’ He responds just as flatly, a flicker of a smile lacing across his face so briefly you you wouldn’t have seen it if you weren’t trained in finding it. It’s the only evidence you have of what he was really saying.

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BTS: Teasing their girlfriend while she’s on the phone

Warnings: SMUTTY AF

It was requested by an anon :)


Kim Seokjin:

“A-ah,” you pressed your lips together, the small noise surprising your friend on the other line, prompting her to ask if you were okay. 

“M-hm,” you mumbled, teeth biting down on your lips, trying to keep in your sounds as she continued to speak over the phone.

But Jin wasn’t helping, his fingers continuing to trace circles around your clit, rubbing as agonizingly slow as he could, making you squirm in your seat. 

“Don’t let her hear, baby,” he whispered into your free ear, voice deep and raspy and you nodded in response, trembling under his touch. Then all too suddenly he inserted two fingers, causing you to moan and you instantly covered your mouth with your hand, embarrassed, and he chuckled, only moving his fingers faster. 

“My God Y/n,” your friend giggled when she realized what was happening. “Call me when you’re done.”

Min Yoongi:

“Yes boss,” you breathed in reply, hips rocking as Yoongi nibbled at your inner thighs, kissing all too close to your wet core. 

“What’s going on, Y/n?” he asked through the phone. “You sound sick.”

“N-no, I’m fine,” you answered, arching your back when Yoongi’s lips began placing soft kisses over your core, tongue occasionally sticking out to have a taste. 

“If you say so,” your boss replied, and when he hung up, you tossed you phone aside tangling your fingers in Yoongi’s silky hair, raising your hips to feel more pressure, begging him for more.

“Mmm baby,” Yoongi chuckled, “Don’t worry, you’ll get what you want.”

Jung Hoseok:

You tried to bite back your moans as Hoseok’s grip on your hips grew stronger, guiding you over his thigh. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” you replied to the voice on the line, but another moan escaped your mouth when his hands ran up your skirt, grabbing your ass-cheeks and rubbing you harder against him, his lips, sucking at your neck and jawline. “I-I have to go,” you hurriedly ended your call, hanging up before the other party had a chance to respond.

“Couldn’t wait now could we?” Hoseok whispered against your tingling skin, stinging your ass a soft pink with his hand. 

Kim Namjoon:

“Answer it, babygirl,” Namjoon licked his lips as he leaned up from the kiss that was interrupted by your phone call. You knew what he was thinking, and you weren’t on board, at least not fully. “Now, or else you’re not cumming tonight,” he rocked against you, your jeans in the way of fully feeling pleasure, and you did as he ordered. 

“Hello?” you shakily asked, burning bright red when you heard your boss speak through the line. 

“Sorry for calling so suddenly, Y/n, but are you free right now to give insight on a few project ideas with so-and-so? Over the phone is fine.”

Namjoon smirked and mouthed the words you hoped he wouldn’t. 

Do it.

Your cheeks flushed and eyes widened, stuttering a “sure” to your boss, feeling embarrassed, sinful, dirty, yet all the more aroused. 

“Great!” he cheered over the phone. “I’ll put you on speaker,” and you clasped your mouth with your hands as Namjoon thrusts against you once more, trying your best not to make any inappropriate noises as your boyfriend pleased you during the call. 

Park Jimin:

You were talking on the phone, sitting between Jimin’s legs when you felt his hands wander up your shirt. Throwing a glare his way, you continued to talk with your coworker, noticing his growing bulge against you. 

He nipped at your exposed shoulder, fingers grazing up and down your skin, one hand making its way up your body and the other towards your growing heat as you tried to ignore him, not really trying all that hard. 

“I just want to make you feel good…” he whispered, hand slipping under your shorts, fingers grazing over your core. “Pretty please?” he asked, firmly pressing against you as his other hand fondled your breasts.

At this point, your breaths had quickened, teeth sinking into your lips holding back sounds of pleasure. 

“I’m sorry,” you gasped over the phone, skin buzzing with need, body wanting more and more as Jimin continued to tease you. “I’ll call you later.”

Kim Taehyung: 

“What are you doing?” the voice on the other line asked when they heard something inaudible on their side. 

“Nothing!” you replied a little too loudly as Taehyung pushed up your pencil skirt, licking his lips at the sight of you almost undone underneath him. 

“W-wait,” you tried stopping him when he hooked your panties to one side, revealing your wetness, but you friend asked you if everything was alright, causing Taehyung to chuckle.

“Yes, it’s fine, I just…” a loud whimper left your lips as he rubbed his fingers over your sensitive core, making your friend all the more confused at your incoherence. “I have to go.” you abruptly ended the call, unwilling to wait any longer. 

Jeon Jungkook:

“Don’t mind me, baby,” Jungkook whispered into your ear as his hand slid between your legs, pushing your skimpy thong to one side. 

“What was that honey?” Your mom asked over the phone, and you replied with a quick ‘nothing’, biting back a whine as he rubbed his fingers up and down your wetness, lips nibbling at your ear, hard-on pressed against your ass. 

“You’re so wet.” he smirked, inserting a two fingers into your dripping core and you clamped your mouth shut, clenching around him, causing him to curse. 

“Everything okay?” she asked, and you nodded, mumbling a yes in reply. 

“I’m sorry mom,” you managed to breathe, “I need to go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”


A/N: I hope you guys liked it :) 

Interruptions

Request: “peter parker smut where the reader is either the daughter of an avenger or maybe just an avenger or something but she lives in the avengers compound (let’s just say peter decided to take tony up on his offer) and she’s dating peter and he sneaks into her room and just as they’re about to start round 2 one of the avengers catches them”

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: SMUTTT

“Good job team.” Tony gave a forced smile before quickly retreating to get a drink.

You looked to Peter, who was still heaving with bloody tears in his suit. You pulled him by the arm wordlessly to your room, sitting him down while you retrieved your first aid kit. He was still a little dazed from the fight, but as you pulled out a clean needle he gave you an adorable smile.

“If you say ‘this isn’t going to hurt’ I’m going to-“

“Kill me?” You smirked. Peter huffed a laugh, leaning back as you started stitching his wounds.

“You know, I think we’re too good for each other sometimes. We can barely get out a sentence without the other knowing how it’ll end.” You shook your head with a rogue smile. “We’re becoming a gross, sappy couple. I hate it.”

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The Alpha And The Beta

Originally posted by berezneva-tw

Characters: Y/n, Derek

Pairing: Derek x Y/n (FEMALE READER)

Warnings: Mostly smut, pissed off reader at first, then just smut, fingering, pussy eating, Daddy Kink, Alpha/Beta kink(not the A/B/O kind), more smut, anal, rough sex, unprotected sex, added sickening fluff at the end, cos why the hell not?

Word count: 2300

Summary: You finally get sick of Derek’s constant need to train. But when you decide you’ve had enough, he decides he’s not about to let you leave so easily.

A/N: Ok, so…requested fic by anon-hi. could you do a derek hale smut (female y/n) where she’s a new beta in his pack+ derek and her are sparring together. y/n gets tired, tells derek that she doesn’t want to train anymore bc its frustrated how he keeps beating her, starting to shout and swear. derek gets mad at her before pinning her down by her wrists and basically telling her off which she finds sexy. he smells her arousal and he starts teasing her about it and they have rough sex where derek is being really dominant ???? Ok, so it’s basically sticking to the request, but I added some more stuff. Also, sorry this took sooo long!! Hope u like it!!

Tagged peeps: @sallyp-53 @greyravenvixen @helvonasche @chelsea072498 @the-latina-trickster @aingealcethlenn @squirrels-angels-and-moose @lucifer-in-leather @kumaartz @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @mogaruke 

Masterlist


“Fuck!”

Your back slammed against the mat, your breaths coming out in pants, body covered in sweat.

Aching muscles and a pounding head had you completely tired out.

“No more”, you panted, rolling over and attempting to stand, but your legs were like jelly, buckling under your weight as you fell to your knees again.

You didn’t care how pathetic you looked, deciding to crawl over to the bottle of water in your bag, your throat dry.

“Really?”

You rolled your eyes at his voice, looking over to see Derek, drenched in sweat, but barely out of breath.

“Fuck you, dude! You’re like 50. You’ve had time to adjust”.

You got to your bag, rummaging through it, until your hand gripped the bottle.

You didn’t hesitate to rip the bottle cap off, drinking the water as though you’d been in the desert for weeks.

Derek watched you, shaking his head with disappointment.

“Get up, y/n. We’re not finished yet”.

You looked at him, eyes wide and nose flaring.

“No!”

“No?”

You crossed your arms like a petulant child.

“No. I’m doing anymore today. We’ve been training non-stop for days. I’m sick of it! You don’t go easy. You’re mean. You shout all the time. And you’re sweaty as hell”.

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