next stop: the doors and the kinks

#98- Shaving Kink (Jared x Jensen)

Requested by anon for my kink list (master list here).

Warning: shaving someone else’s face, smut

Word Count: 1150ish

A/N: Still new to writing this ship, hope y’all enjoy it! XOXO

Jensen wakes up to sunlight peeking around the edges of the curtains and an empty bed. The pillow next to him is still dented from Jared’s head, and there’s warm, damp air floating from the hotel bathroom.

Jensen stretches for a moment, then gets up and heads to the bathroom, not even bothering to grab his boxers from the pile of laundry on the floor. When he gets to the door, he stops and quietly leans against it, just watching. He’s already half-hard just from waking up, but it only takes a few seconds of this view to get him all the way there.

Keep reading

It's Dark Next Door: Dom!Ashton Smut- Part 3

A/N: Here it is! Told you I would give you what you wanted ;) This is where things get a little rough so PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH S&M/ DADDY KINK/ KINKY SHIT IN GENERAL. Okay cool ily enjoy

xoxo,

Carmen

Requested: Fuck yes

 

——————————————

 

 He pushed me back gently, further, further, until I felt the first step of the bed platform against the backs of my heels. He stopped and put a hand in the crook of my knees, lifting me into his arms bridal style. I could barely breathe, and I loved it. I let him pick me up and carry me up the shallow steps. He laid me down on the bed, like I was a delicate china doll, and crawled on top of me. He spread my legs with his knees and began to kiss my neck with his hands on my hips.

Suddenly, I realized that he was moving me around like a wilting flower, moving me anywhere and anyway he wanted. I wasn’t a virgin, I had my fair share of experience, and I wanted to show him I could make him feel as weak and on edge as he made me feel.

I wrapped my legs around him and started tugging on his dark golden locks, but he immediately stopped his sensual assault on my neck.

“Rule number one, Y/N” he spoke gravely, “I’m the one in control. That’s how this works, kitten.”

Kitten.

His tone made my breath hitch, and I cautiously retracted my hands from his hair and my legs from his waist. He took my wrists as I lowered them and pinned them above my head, sucking a hickey into my collarbone and grinding himself into me. I let out needy whimpers, his tone, tanned body felt like liquid gold on my exposed skin. He pulled away from me and stood up to the side of the bed, and I was left wide-eyed and panting, wanting more.

“Do not move.” he said authoritatively, “And take off your sweatshirt.” I nodded my head slightly and slipped my sweatshirt over my head as I watched him walk to the other side of the room.

To the display of whips and ties.

He scanned his selection for a moment, tapping his chin.

“Hmm, what should we use on a gorgeous thing like you. Leather perhaps?” he seemed to speak out loud to himself, rather than me.

“No, this is only your first time, we need to be gentle with our little doll.” It was like his Dr. Jekyll and Mr.Hide that hid within him were bantering over how to play with me.

“Silk, silk is perfect. Soft, rare and beautiful. Just like our Y/N.”

He slipped two silk ties off their hooks. They were a dark hot pink shade, and looked well made and expensive. They looked like they did their job well. I gulped.

He sauntered over to me again, taking my wrist in his large hand. He began to tie it to one of the bars in the headboard.

“We won’t tie your legs this time, wouldn’t want you to pass out on me.” He chuckled lowly.

What the hell does THAT mean?

He made his way to the other side by crawling over me, leaving a quick kiss on my lips in the process. He began to tie my other wrist.

“If you want this to end at any time, say stop.” He said in a comforting tone, something I hadn’t heard from him before.

“And the safe word is Vegas.”

“Vegas?” I asked, my voice faltering slightly.

He smiled and shrugged.

“I like it there, it’s stunning at night.” He smirked at me. “Maybe if this continues and goes well, I’ll take you sometime.”

I bit my lip at the thought and watched as he finished tying me up and crawled to hover over me again.

He spoke into my neck, kissing it in between sentences.

“You will do as I say, doll. You may make noises so I can hear your pretty sounds, but you may not speak, except when I tell you to. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“Yes, Daddy?” He dug his nails into the top of my thigh below my ass.

“Y-yes, Daddy” I whimpered out.

“Good.”

He ran his hands along my sides and I shivered, closing my eyes. I snapped them open again when I felt the pads of his fingers go underneath the waistband of my sleep shorts.

Suddenly, he cupped my heat, fondling me and I breathed out harshly. My body was tingling like crazy and I wanted to touch him.

But thanks to these wrist ties, I couldn’t.

And I kinda liked that.

“So, so sweet….” He whispered, slowly pulling down my shorts and underwear and leaving kisses on each new inch of exposed skin. He threw them to the floor, smirking up at me as my breathing became erratic. He took my thighs, which looked so tiny in his manly hands, and spread them apart, kissing the insides.

I whimpered at him.

“Aw doll, so ready for me, I love it.” He kissed my core lightly, and the spread my folds with two of his fingers and sucked once on my clit. He then licked up and down my slit quickly, making me cry out as his tongue worked on me.

I could barely take it.

“Oh my fucking god, Ashton!” I cried, bucking my hips closer to him. He pulled away slowly with a dark gleam in his eye.

“Oh no, doll, you broke the rules so soon…” He said in a voice like he was speaking to a child.

“But if I let you off with no punishment, you’ll never learn.”

Before I knew it, he grabbed my bottom half and flipped me onto my knees as I let out a gasp. My arms were crossed over each other, and he pushed my top half into the pillows so my ass was in the air.

“I know you couldn’t help my tongue sucking your sweet pussy, so I’ll go easy on you this time, but next time I won’t be so forgiving, kitten.” he tutted. I felt his hot breathe on my back.

“And you better count for me.”

I had no idea what he meant until I felt the first slap on my bare ass.

“Ah!” I yelled out.

Now all the late night screaming made sense.

“I said count for me, Y/N”  his breath was in my ear as he rubbed my tender ass cheek.

“Okay, one.” I said shakily, my head dropping into the pillows.

“That’s a good fucking girl.” He purred. He lifted his hand back and another slap sounded through the room.

“Two!” I screamed, and I couldn’t help the surge of pleasure that rushed through me.

He slapped me hardest the third time.

“Fuck! Three!” I yelped. He rubbed my ass harshly and came to speak in my ear again.

“You’re not supposed to cuss at Daddy, kitten. I guess slapping your pretty ass isn’t going to teach you to be good.”

I heard the sound of rustling fabric and then skin slap skin.

Suddenly, I felt his tip on my throbbing core.

“You already broke the rules, so you better say my name.” He growled into my neck.

Without warning, he slammed into me, pounding in and out without mercy. I hadn’t seen his cock, but I could tell it was huge by how it filled me to the brim and then stretched me ever further.

“Ashton, fuck! Yes!” I bit into the pillow as I felt his rough finger shove its way between my legs and rub my clit furiously.

“You like that, dirty girl?” He panted, grabbing my hair and yanking my head back. He wrapped my long blonde locks around his fist and pulled me down to meet his every thrust.

He smacked my ass again.

“Tell me how much you love my fucking cock.” He growled at me, digging his nails into the place on my ass he’d smacked.

“I love it so much, Ashton! I fucking need it!” I moaned out, sounding pornographic.

“When I’m deep inside you, I’m not Ashton. I’m your fucking Daddy. Say it.” He growled again, raising his voice as he continued to fuck me mercilessly.

“Oh fuck, you’re my D-daddy. I whimpered.

“Good girl, that’s it.” He cooed in my ear, returning his fingers to my clit, rubbing figure eights.

I felt myself begin to clench.

“Oh yeah, come on me doll. I wanna feel you, tight on my cock.” He growled again, and I could tell he was close too.

With a few more thrusts and another smack to my ass, my vision turned white and I screamed at the top of my lungs. The strongest orgasm I ever had crashed onto me like a Malibu wave, and I felt Ashton grunt loudly and quickly pull out, shooting his load onto my smooth and sweaty back.

“Ahh, fuck.” He cursed as he came down from his high. I collapsed onto the bed with my hands still tied and Ashton fell on top of me, kissing my back with his open mouth before rolling off the bed and standing up.

“You’re fucking perfect.” He whispered, caressing my deliciously sore ass, and I smiled but couldn’t find the strength the lift my head.

“Let me get something to clean you up with, then I’ll untie you and we can talk.” He said sweetly, walking naked to the other side of the room.

I was still panting and shaking, and I could feel in my gut that Olympian Hill was about to get a lot more interesting.

Take Me Into Your Loving Arms

The ‘Imagine your OTP dancing to Thinking Out Loud in pajamas’ prompt from otpprompts inspired me too much. I had to do it.

Their lives were nothing but dysfunctional. Of course there was love and concern and care. Each other’s happiness mattered to them, no matter how hard it was to see from a third party. Regardless, it seemed to be blatantly obvious that Arthur and Francis cared for each other.

It was blinded from everyone else. When Arthur fell asleep with a book thrown across his face, it was Francis who crawled into bed next to him, wrapping his arms around his lover’s torso, and nestled him into a peaceful slumber. When Francis came home drunk from a late night out with friends, Arthur was there to peel his jacket from his slumped shoulders, hand him a glass of water, and push him into bed. They weren’t the norm, but really, who was?

College was probably the most difficult place to hold a relationship. Whether it was your fault or not, you tended to grow apart from the person you loved. They tried to spend time together; whenever they had a free minute, it was taken over by each other. But that was a rare occurrence. Classes, work, studying, all while attempting to find sleep in between. It was hard enough to eat while juggling all of that, let alone plan a date.

On one particular night, the sky a dark purple fading into black, Arthur sat at his computer desk, typing out a paper, music playing in the background as if to soothe him. He only had until the next morning to turn it in, and it was too much of a stressor. Teeth grinding, enraged, frustrated breathes huffing out of his nose, he cracked his knuckles to get the kinks out before typing once more. He could’ve stopped, taken a break. But even if he lay down for a single second, he’d pass out, and the paper would never get done.

Too preoccupied in his work, he didn’t even hear the door creak open. He didn’t hear the bag drop onto the floor. He didn’t hear the socked-footsteps pattering towards him. He barely even noticed when a pair of bare, strong arms wrapped around his shoulders.

Mon amour, you’ve been at this for hours,” Francis whispered into his ear. “Have you even stopped to eat dinner?”

“No time,” Arthur muttered, fingers refusing to stop flying across the keyboard. “If I stop now, I’ll never get back to work. I’ve gotten into my rhythm, Francis. I can’t stop now. Not until I’m done.”

With a sigh, Francis kneeled next to his computer chair, hands resting on his thighs. “You’re getting dark circles, lapin. I can hear your stomach grumbling. It’ll only take a few moments. A break will do you good.”

“Shut up,” Arthur snapped, nudging his leg to get Francis to release his grip on him. He was stubborn, he knew. And deep down, he didn’t really want to take his anger out on Francis, because he knew he was right. He was tired. And hungry. All he wanted was a blueberry scone and then to pass out in his bed. But he couldn’t do that until his bloody paper was done.

His music changed from rough and angry to soft and melodious, but that only put him into a bigger slump. Typing to the beat of a song was sort of his thing. How was he supposed to type to Ed Sheeran and not get distracted, let alone sexually frustrated?

Suddenly, a pair of hands gently grabbed his wrists and pulled them away from the keyboard. Forced into a standing position, he turned around to glare at Francis who was smiling fondly at him. Holding out his hand, palm up, he said, “Dance with me, Arthur.”

He rolled his eyes. “You are the dumbest, cheesiest person I have ever met.”

“And you love me. Now, come, dance with me.” Francis tugged him closer, their chest touching, heartbeats jumping through their clothed bodies. Francis’s arms traced their way across Arthur’s shoulders, down the slope of his waist, and came to rest upon his hips.

“I have to write my paper,” Arthur grumbled, but if he were being honest, he much preferred his current state to his previous one.

“Hush,” Francis said. “Just relax, Arthur. You’re going to go crazy if you keep this up.”

He could’ve retaliated easily, even broken out of the grip he was being held in. If he showed true discomfort or fury, Francis would let him go, he always did. But he didn’t want to be let go, not right now. Not ever really. He wasn’t one who was good with feelings; they were far too mysterious and foreign for him to comprehend. What he had for Francis though, that was something that made his pulse jump and made his stomach squeeze into itself.

So he let himself be held, swaying away to a cliché, overplayed pop song. The lyrics were whispered in his ears, only to make the situation more like a romantic drama that played on Lifetime. He couldn’t say he truly minded.

For those few minutes that the song played on, the moment never had to end. And it didn’t. Even when it did, he refused to pull away, resting against his boyfriend’s shoulder, smiling into the soft skin of his neck. Francis pressed a light kiss to his forehead, his arms tightening around Arthur even more.

They could worry about their problems and prior commitments another time, another hour, another day. Right now, all they needed was to stand in the silence of a dark dorm room, holding each other as the computer screen faded into a deep sleep.

Homing Mechanism

Barring Mr. Harris, Stiles was always told by his teachers that he’d be the type of person who’d do well in college. They’d been right, too- he’s smart, sarcastic, finally able to channel all that energy into one subject that he can learn everything about, and just athletic enough to be impossibly attractive to a certain type of person. After the brutal hellscape of his high school years, Stiles kind of figures he deserves the break.

So, he excels in his classes. Makes a few friends, skypes with Lydia and Scott every day, eventually picks a major. Plays the field. He hooks up with people, even dates a few, maybe has his heart broken once or twice. He tries not to think about how there always seems to be something missing.

College is this safe little bubble world where nothing he does has consequences, which on the one hand means that he feels free to do what he wants, but on the other means that he never really gets invested. Besides, there’s always something slightly wrong with the men and women he finds himself with. They end up being too short, too fair, too sweet. They laugh too easily.

After graduation he says goodbye to his friends, and he and his dad pack all of the crap he’s managed to acquire over the four years he’s been at Stanford into the jeep. It’s only a three hour drive to Beacon Hills, meaning it’s barely after lunchtime by the time they get back. He hugs his dad goodbye before dropping him off at the station, and then heads directly to Scott’s without bothering to unpack the car.

Their reunion is heartfelt and filled with some unacknowledged tears and a lot of hugging, eventually devolving into their standard pastime of video games and junk food. He’s vegging out on Scott’s couch after a particularly cathartic bout of CoD when Scott turns to him all casual with his mouth full of Cheez Puffs and says, “Derek’s back in town.”

Stiles gapes at his best friend as Scott wipes fake cheese dust all over his pants and completely fails to elaborate. Something inside his chest flutters loose and he thinks Oh. Oh, no.

So, he does his morally questionable thing and gets his research hat on, and by the end of the day he has an address.

Keep reading

medievaldean  asked:

are you still taking prompts? because I have one :two music majors who regularly use adjacent practice rooms at the same ungodly hours of the night/morning AU

Dean whistles, twirling his headphones on his fingers.

It’s absolutely silent in the dark hallway, but that’s how Dean likes it. The practice rooms were a complete mess during the day, all the underclassmen scuffling and scrapping for some rehearsal time—but Dean’s too old for that shit. So he may or may not have bribed Ash to give his ID access to the building past midnight. 

And anyway. Music just sounded better at 2 o’ clock in the morning.

Sammy can bitch all he likes, but Dean’s not worried about getting caught. He’s been doing this for nearly two years, and he’s never seen another soul down here. He’s golden.

He hikes up his bag on his shoulder, and pulls open the door, third one on the right—

And stops dead. Because someone’s already in there.



The dude looks up, a slightly puzzled expression on his face. Dean stares back.

“Can I help you?” The guy asks eventually, raising an eyebrow.

“Um.”

Dean furrows his brow. He vaguely recognizes the guy, remembering the gossip about the new transfer student. The music department was small, and fresh blood was rare. His first day caused a lot of gawking. (Dean may have been part of that gawking too, but nobody needs to know that.)

“The building’s closed,” he ends up saying. Oh, great. Good one, Winchester.

The guy looks him up and down, absently plucking the strings on his guitar. He’s all hooked to the amp already and everything.

"Doesn’t seem to be stopping you.”

Dean blinks a little. 

“Well—”

He shrugs, gesturing around.

“Yeah. I always practice here. This is my practice room.”

“There are three others right next door,” the guy says idly, turning back to his guitar.


Dean narrows his eyes. 

"The tuning’s better in here,” he says shortly.

The guy looks up at that, then glances towards the piano in the corner.

“You?” He asks, his lips curling up slightly. “Piano?”

Dean crosses his arms defensively. “Yeah? And?”

The guy raises a hand. “Nothing.”

He laughs a little.

“You just don’t seem the type.”

Dean rankles. Yes, he knows he doesn’t exactly look the type to be majoring in classical piano, but he’s awesome at it, and he’s already proved time and again that if anyone wanted to give him shit for it, he was more than capable than kicking their ass. Including Mr. Wannabe Rockstar.

“Well, you don’t seem the type to be an douche, yet here we are,” he shoots back.


The guy raises his eyebrows slightly, but doesn’t say anything. Dean spreads his hands.

“Well? You gonna move or not?”

The dude looks around for a moment, as if thinking it over.

"Or not,” he says finally, before going back to his guitar.

Keep reading

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Your Name Is Tattooed On My HeartLouis is ready to find the love of his life, but first he has to stop falling for the punk rocker next door.

(chaptered) (86,803 words) (harry/louis) (side zayn/liam) (college/university) (friends to lovers)

We’re The Sparks That Never FadeHarry doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, Louis lies a lot, and in the end it doesn’t matter because all they need is each other.

(broken fic) (38,412 words) (harry/louis) (mental health issues) (abandonment)

Baby Shut Your Mouth And Turn Me Inside OutHarry and Louis meet in a McDonalds and they are what each other needs.

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If You Wanna Try Me OnThe Devils Wear Prada Au

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Just Put Your Heart In My HandsLouis and Harry haven’t had sex yet. Sometimes, Harry just wants to be pretty.

(ficlet) (3,421 words) (harry/louis) (bottom!louis) (girl!harry) (smut)

MuteLouis’ life was a joke through his witty words. Harry’s life was a joke through his lack of words. Louis was classed as a normal child; mentally and physically. Louis could speak. Harry could not. Harry had progressive mutism. Louis did not.

(chaptered) (122,955 words) (harry/louis) (mute!harry) (dancer!louis)

All I Ever Wanted (Was the World)- Harry is a pageant queen and she cheats by fucking Louis, the competition’s judge.

(ficlet) (7,721 words) (harry/louis) (beauty pageant)

Skip A Heartbeat- Louis actually hates Harry, but sort of loves him too.

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This House No Longer Feels Like Home- Harry and Louis have been together for 20 years. Harry cheats. Louis cries. Harry has one year to redeem himself.

(broken up fic) (25,201 words) (harry/louis) (cheating) (angst) 

Nothing Else But Us Right HereLouis sighs and gives himself a mental pep talk as he smooths his jumper down over his hips. He can do this. He can resist the draw of Harry Styles, because he is a responsible, mature adult, and as much as he wants to tangle his fingers in that mess of hair and map those ridiculous tattoos with his tongue, he does not want to get his daughter’s favorite teacher fired.

(broken up fic) (35,313 words) (harry/louis) (teacher)

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One More For The StarsHarry’s the star quarterback and Louis is about to graduate. It’s a heartbreak waiting to happen.

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Breathing In Your DustHarry doesn’t believe in soulmates despite living in a world where soulmates and fate are key words. Louis is just a boy he meets but at the same time, he’s so much more.

(ficlet) (6,771 words) (harry/louis) (soulmates)

Laugh For MeAnd it’s then that he realizes just how much he’s misses Harry’s laugh. Not his public laugh, he hears that often enough, but his private Louis laugh, the laugh that Harry only makes when they’re alone together, a laugh he’s come to associate with soft touches and low moans and a breathy “Louis” whispered against his neck. Louis can’t think of the last time he heard it.

(one shot) (4,597 words) (harry/louis) (smut)

We Were Meant To Be (but)Maybe they’ll burn up or fizzle out and one of them will be broken for a while, and they know they don’t have forever but they have now, and that’s enough.

(ficlet) (4,003 words) (harry/louis) (angst) (soulmates)

A Grocery List Pinned To Blue- After eight years, louis finally has everything he’s wanted. except for harry.

(broken up fic) (19,839 words) (harry/louis)

Like A Bastard On The Burning Sea- Harry breaks Louis. Louis breaks everything.

(broken up fic) (22,181 words) (harry/louis) (angst) (cheating)

Love Is Simple. Just That Simple- Louis has insomnia and Harry has a whole lot of love for Louis.

(ficlet) (6,832 words) (harry/louis) (fluff) (angst) (insomnia)

52 Birthdays With Lou the fifty two birthdays that Harry spent with Lou.

(chaptered) (8,000+ words) (harry/louis) (angst) (major characters deaths)

Take My Hand (Take My Whole World Too)“What would you do,” Louis begins, knowing that this will only hurt him more, “If this was your last day on earth?“

Harry thinks for a bit, brow furrowed in concentration, and then he says sort of cheekily, “Go skydiving. See my family, see my friends.”

“What else, Harry?” (THIS IS A MISLEADING DESCRIPTION JUST READ THE STORY)

(ficlet) (9,074 words) (harry/louis) (angst) (character death)

You Don’t See The Sun Anymore Harry is going blind. He wanted to see the sparkle in Louis’s eyes and now he just wants to see Louis.

(broken up fic) (???? words count) (harry/louis) (angst) (smut) (impairment) (blind)

Purer Than The Water- Louis is a merman and Harry is a boy. The lake is a good place to fall in love.

(broken up fic) (33,017 words) (harry/louis) (mermaid) 

We’ll Play Hide and Seek (to turn this around)- Harry likes to feel pretty. He paints his nails and likes frilly pink things. He drinks strawberry milk like he needs it to survive. Louis just wants to know what’s wrong with him.

(broken up fic) (15,510 words) (harry/louis) (mention of rape/abuse) (side zayn/liam)

Fading-  Louis knows about beauty; the combination of qualities that pleases the aesthetic senses. He creates that combination every day in the garments he designs while studying fashion at uni. The cut of the design, the color of the fabric, the intricacy of the stitching; it all comes together to create something beautiful. When the science student with the long legs and dimpled smile agrees to model for him, Louis decides he’s found beauty personified. Harry just thinks Louis needs someone to show him how beautiful he is.

(chaptered) (202,102 words) (harry/louis) (eating disorders) (angst) (hurt/comfort) 

Wishing For Rain As I Stand In The Desert- Louis is moving out of the flat he shares with Harry because Eleanor thinks they’re too co-dependent. Harry can’t let him leave.

(ficlet) (7,921 words) (fluff and angst) (smut)

No One Does It BetterHarry’s an alcoholic and Louis is a bartender. The first time they meet isn’t the first time they’ve met.

(chaptered) (49,544 words) (hurt/comfort) (fluff) (angst) (alcohol abuse)

so there it is. we will be adding to this list (obviously)

  • just to clarify "broken up fics” means there are no actual chapters that you click next on, there are just page breaks :)