pull chemise

Alfie x Reader

PROMPT: “Are you scared?”

WARNINGS: swearing, canonical use of offensive words

WORD COUNT: 2403

A/N: This was a request from @seawizadry - I hope it’s okay! For some reason I had a lot of trouble with this one. Thank you to @sun-ithilwen-writer for helping me to plot this out. Her blog is very new, but if you have the time, check her out 😊

Originally posted by bonniebirdsgifcentre

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anonymous asked:

existe t-il des photos de mv avec une barbe? c'est pour la science

Cette perfection est la chose la plus proche qui existe d’une photo de MV avec une barbe, en l’occurence de trois jours :

Hostage part 5

Pairings: Bucky x reader


Warnings: SMUT, angst, fluff


Music tip: Marilyn Manson (yes, again!) - killing strangers

Originally posted by sebastianstahp

TAGLIST: @-tulipsunflower- @jasmins3 @hoepalace

@sireanscall @winterschildrenn @potterhead7656 @amf71010 @redstarstan @hoepalace @imagination-gb @katiekat1428 @selfproclaimedmess 

@emmaplum 

(some of you I can’t tag for some reason, I’m sorry!) 

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(NSFW) Power Play - Eisuke Ichinomiya

I’ve crossed the 100 follower mark - so I turned this fic into something a little longer. Hope you all enjoy ;)

‘Are you doing that on purpose?’ 

You blinked at your laptop screen, frowning a little at Eisuke’s question. ‘What do you mean?’  

‘Are you bending over for the camera?’

You looked down at yourself, you were lying on your stomach as you chatted with Eisuke over Skype. He had travelled up north for a week for some sort of business deal, so while he was away, the two of you made sure to talk in the evening everyday. 

‘I’m just sitting…’ you said, genuinely bemused.

‘Is you door closed?’ Eisuke demanded. 

‘Yes…’

‘Locked?’ 

‘Yes!’ 

‘You’re giving me an eyeful right now. Those other guys better not see what I’m seeing. I’m warning you.’

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The Colors of the Plaid- Part 5

Childhood friends who don’t understand that they are supposed to hate each other. Family betrayal. An adventure that leads to so much more than a happy reunion. An unexpected love that turns the world upside down. Secrets and lies that threaten to destroy everything. Is it possible to get your happy ending?

Word Count: 2200

Warnings: SMUT (finally!)

Part 1  Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

A/N: Next part soon! Here are some people who wanted to be tagged, sorry if I forgot anyone! @aprofoundbondwithdean @abby-ackles @goandsavemyunicorn @desiraeduran @winchesterprincessbride @hunting-for-idgits  @liger26 @-hiddlesdweeb- @iwriteshortstuff @homeschooled-fangirl

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La semaine dernière, ma prof d’anglais était venue avec un pantalon en velours vert et une chemise à carreaux jaune, verte et orange. Aujourd’hui, elle avait un pantalon violet fluo, avec un pull violet, une chemise rose avec des pois blancs et une lavallière rose. J’ai hâte d’être à la semaine prochaine pour continuer cette exploration de la palette des couleurs.

Exploration

(anon submission)

yikes the last time i wrote fanfiction was in 2008 and it was about the jonas brothers. that being said, i hope you guys enjoy!

trigger warnings: smut (spanking, really. but it’s kind of vanilla spanking? that doesn’t make sense but it will), swearing, and a brief mention of alcohol.

also, i’m not quite sure how this submit thing works, so if spacing is weird in this, i’m sorry :( and i didn’t know how to add a page break, so this is just a hella long block of text clogging up your dash. (i fixed this for you, hope you dont mind ~ raylie)

word count: 3838 (yike that’s long)

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Texture

For those of you that missed it, a few days ago there was a discussion regarding the nature of Rumplestiltskin’s skin.  Imp biology being a potential field of interest for me, well…  Thanks a lot, winterelf86.  ;)

This just sort of happened.  For science. 

Rather NC-17.  Thanks to justrumbelledearie for the pre-read!

Texture

Moments in the workroom, the main hall, and the kitchen boiled over into this moment.  The chaise lounge skidded roughly as Rumplestiltskin scrambled to get closer, and Belle’s book fell with a ruffling slap to the stone floor. 

“Would you really, Belle?”  He breathed against her neck, leaving a tingling coolness across heating skin.  “With a monster?”

His kisses were potent, driving her into a dizzy grab at his finery.  “You are a man.”  She knew his façade, he wore it as both parody and shield.  “No more and no less.”

With her bodice loosened, she could kiss longer.  His smooth lips could glide along hers, trace against her neck, skate the edge of her sheer chemise, and suckle at her lower lip.  When her mouth opened, his slick tongue delicately questioned the places where lips transitioned from silk to velvet, seen to unseen.

His hair in her hands, soft and crushable.  She gathered it in a handful at his neck and dipped into his mouth as he huffed a breath through his nose.  Helpless, desperate sounds echoed off stone walls as he pushed her bodice away.  His hands, pebbled with strange texture, grazed her wrinkled chemise and bared her shoulders and the tops of her breasts.  A fold or two of chemise was hardly going to hide her from his eyes, she knew. 

He leaned back on his heels, still kneeling before the chaise where she was splayed, legs tangled in her skirts. 

“What a beauty you are.”  His eyes drifted over her, lingering on the dark points beneath the chemise.  “You sully yourself with a beast’s touch.”

“A man.”  She replied and pushed his stiff collar back, and dragged her fingertips down his neck to the deep cut in his silk shirt.  “A man’s touch.”  His chest was smooth, yet textured like his hands, and her curious fingers roamed under the silk to his collarbones, then down. 

Rumplestiltskin shuddered, eyes never leaving her face, both captivated by her and observing.  It wasn’t hard to understand- he was watching for her rejection, recognition of him as unclean or unlike somehow.  Unworthy, undesirable.

The fascinating ridge of his nipple, the smooth halo around it, and the return of the fine bumps beyond were unlikely to stop her.  He pressed himself into her hand, seeking her touch even as remained poised to spring away.

Knowing this test had to be passed, for the moment would never come again, Belle licked her lips and looked into his eyes.  “You are magnificent.”  To prove it, she pulled at the button that kept her from exploring him beyond those few scant inches.  When he leaned forward, his belly against the chaise and next to her legs, she unbuttoned the shirt and tugged it from his over-tailored leather.

Light danced over tiny flat plates, reflecting the mix of colors from the stained glass above and the warm candlelight.  Belle exhaled in wonder.  “You are… armored.” 

“In many ways, sweet.”  He murmured, taking her hand from his belly to kiss her palm.  There was no strict line where the textures changed, merely blending into contours that caught her eye, emphasizing the movement of sinew and roll of muscle.  This strange skin twitched and trembled under her touch.  It was only when she toyed with the laces of his leather trousers that he jerked away.

“Lady, it does not end.  I am beast from head to tail,” his nostrils flared.  “And all points in between.”

She’d been reading on her side, so her skirts were tucked under her, binding her legs.  Rather than reach for him first, she straightened her skirts and slid one leg up until she could hook her toes behind his back.  With a soft grunt, he let her pull him forward, his body filling the space between her parted legs, pushing at her layers of skirts.

She was here forever; the genteel captive of a mysterious being who spun gold and quietly lit candles in solitude, yet pranced to mete out blessings and curses on his dubious patrons.

She scooted forward.  “Show me.”

Eyes fluttering, he moaned as she tucked her fingers under the leather and pulled him by his laces.  She was practically bare from the waist up herself.  He stared at her hand, starkly white against him, and followed to her wrist, arm, shoulder, one barely covered breast, and finally her face. 

Those strange eyes fixed upon her, his arms limp at his sides, fingers twitching as if unable to begin.  She pulled the knot free for him, loosening his ties as he had done for her.  His hands joined hers and he gently pushed her hands away.  Belle untied the wraps for her skirt and let it fall into a pile on the floor.  Ruffles of blue heaped with the eyelet underskirt alongside the chaise.

Rumplestiltskin nudged his trousers down, his smooth scales smaller across his lower belly, but he was still hidden from her view, obscured by the veil of her chemise pulled tight across her knees.  The heaving in his torso paused as the bottom edge of the chemise rose over her knees.

“Belle,” he breathed.  Those hands, finely grained, skidded over her knees and around, barely grazing the backs of her thighs and knees until she shuddered, then pulled the skirts up further. 

He was unlike any man she’d ever seen before, not the fishermen who stripped before diving after lost nets, nor the soldiers who scraped the grime of patrols off in the pond beneath her window, yet he was exactly as she would have him.  A pad of raised scales rooted his sex, crowned with tiny overlapping scales the color of new rosebuds destined to bloom red.

When she looked up, Rumplestiltskin’s gaze was fixed between her legs.  The chemise was high on her thighs, exposing the fine undergarments beneath clinging to her every shape.  They slid them off together, tossing them atop her skirts.

“Sweet, I am no man.”  He no longer made an effort to hide himself.  “You would have this?”  He clenched his jaw, grinding out the words.  “Hold it within you?”

Belle reached, tentatively touching, and slid her hand down the shaft.  Firm ridges lined it to the base, and she smiled, and then drew her hand back.

She gasped.  

The scales were overlapped, not simple plates here.  Were she to pull away during the act, it would be painful for him, maybe even impossible.  They would be physically bound together by the organ that bobbed eagerly in her hand.

There would be none of the bruising thrusts that her maids had complained of, no demonstrations of prowess by forcing her into uncomfortable acrobatics.  He would have to be careful with her for his own sake; though their time together made her sure she had nothing to fear.

He looked miserable, but when he tried to tuck himself away, she held firm. 

“Come to me, Rumple.”

The chaise creaked as he climbed up to join her.  He stroked her thighs as they kissed, this time her tongue darting at the seam of lips to coax, their breathing fast.  Those hands of his, lean and clever, petted her until she rubbed herself into his palm, licking at his mouth and feeling the way the smooth plates on his back slid as he worked her.

Suddenly, he rolled and lifted her up, taking her place on the chaise.  He laid on his back, his cock jutting up.  She straddled him, held in place by his hand.  With the other he gripped himself and stroked her, parting her and teasing.

“Let me please you, Belle.”  So she hovered, only bending her knees to get more of him, pushing the pace, until she felt his hand on her rear pushing her down.

The ridges made sparks dance behind her eyes.  When she rested her full weight on him the raised pad against her pushed back, bumping the swollen bud between her legs.

Rumplestiltskin was gasping, moaning, and writhing beneath her.  “Oh please, please Belle.  Move with me!” 

His hands clamped her down, then pulled.  The wetness between them squished as she slid forward, then he pushed her back.  The pad bumped her again.

“Oh, gods,” she whimpered.  For a moment, it was too much.  She tried to raise up, but a cry from beneath made her stop.

“I’m sorry!”  She whimpered. 

“No, no.  I’m sorry.  I’m ugly and… and this.”  He grimaced.

She leaned forward, careful to stay steady, and kissed him, suckling his lip, and drew his tongue into her mouth.  He stilled, holding her tight, and arched his hips up.  Every pulse made her legs quiver and her vision blur.

“Guide me, Rumple.”  She put her hands over his and encouraged his grasp.  “Show me how.”

“I… I can only show you how I-”

She took his lips again.  “Show me.”

The scales in his abdomen rippled as he pulled her forward, sliding her along the raised pad and back again.  Her whimpers and moans grew louder as the pressure, rhythm, and heat engulfed her from their joining to the roots of her hair.  A fever bloomed across her body, urged on by his rough grunts and needy cries.

It grew hotter, bigger, coiling tighter until it released, blinding her with brightness behind her eyes and unable to breath.  She clutched at his chest, shoulders, forearms until she felt the chaise beneath them crack, dumping them onto the floor, sweating and glowing in each other’s arms.

The cool stone on her knees was a welcome contrast as she panted to catch her breath, still gripping a slickly scaled forearm in one hand and pushing her piles of curls from her face with the other.

As he recovered, his sides, like iron as she rode him, softened.  He felt so human, warm, and relaxed, though his face reflected fear again. 

“I told you, lady,” he said lightly, trying to don the showman again.  “I’m a monster.”

She looked into his alien eyes, gentler now and maybe even a little kind.  “No.  You love as a man.”  She raised her body and he slid away, his cock softened and glistening.  “A man I love.”

*I think I just sexted the wrong number, but OH HE’S HOT AF LET’S KEEP DOING THIS*!Klaroline AU. - cutiepieforbes

I hope you guys like this :) 
-Angie, aka thetourguidebarbie


Look, it wasn’t her fault that K and L were right next to each other in the alphabet.

She stared at the picture she’d just sent to her no-strings-attached friend with benefits. Unfortunately, instead of reaching Tyler Lockwood, it had gone to the number her roommate Rebekah had put in her phone, simply saying that it was someone (apparently named ‘Klaus’) who had an emergency key and lived two miles away. She’d never met him, and to her knowledge he had no idea who she was.

And now said roommate’s emergency contact (?) had seen her in an incredibly racy piece of lingerie.

She was about three seconds away from texting omigod so sorry, wrong number when she received a text back. 

Who knew Rebekah’s…contact…was hot.

Like, hot.

She bit her lip, contemplating her choices, almost immediately erasing the text she’d been about to send.

To sext, or not to sext? That was the question.

To what do I owe the pleasure, love?

Yep. To sext.

I think you mean to who do you owe the pleasure…

Yeah, it was cheesy, so sue her.

It’s ‘to whom,’ actually, but I’ll take it.

Oh, will you? ;)

I’ll take you.

She stared at the phone screen in slight shock as another picture accompanied it. Abs. Abs for days.

Days.

She could deal with that.

She twisted her body slightly, snapping a photo from above at a different angle and sent it before she lost her nerve. Tell me.

Well, first I would peel that chemise off your body. As delectable as you look in it, I am sure that what is underneath is even more so, he texted back, quickly followed by, I would run my hands down your sides and cup your perfect breasts in my hands, tugging at your nipples with my teeth.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

She felt a stab of arousal hit her, and she could feel her breaths getting shallower. She pulled off the chemise carefully, maneuvering the camera expertly as she cupped her own breast, tugging at her nipple, keeping her face in shadow.

And then what?

I would scrape my teeth along your skin, stroking your clit with my fingers to see how soaking wet you are for me…

She moaned, letting her fingers trail down her body to find her clit, rubbing lightly.

Are you touching yourself, sweetheart?

She snapped another picture, trying to keep it as tasteful as possible (though she really didn’t think anyone could possibly take a tasteful picture of their hand between their legs).

Yes, she texted back, before adding, Are you hard for me?

She licked her suddenly dry lips at the picture of tented pants that she received back from him.

Are you stroking yourself to pictures of me?

The reply was almost immediate. Yes.

Do you wish it was my hand wrapped around your cock?

Gods, yes.

She looked at the phone, contemplating whether she should just invite him over. Obviously Rebekah trusted him, so he couldn’t be a serial killer.

If you come over I can show you just how good it would feel.

The response was, again, nearly instantaneous. Address?

She sent it off, deciding not to mention that she was Rebekah’s roommate (it wasn’t important, since the other girl was out for the night), adding another picture of her, her legs twisted through the sheets, blonde hair spilling all over the pillow.

I’ll be there in five. You had better be ready to explain yourself.

She frowned at the response. ‘Explain herself’? Maybe it was just a weird way of saying she should prepare for more dirty talk?

She wondered if she should text Rebekah and warn her about what happened. She had just begun contemplating redressing when she heard an insistent bang on the door, and she crept up to it slowly to look through the peephole.

There was Rebekah’s Hot Emergency Contact, except he had a shirt on and he looked furious. “Open the door, Bekah.”

Bekah?

Caroline grabbed a light robe and threw it on before returning to the door, where the man was still knocking insistently. “This isn’t funny, Sister. I don’t know what on earth possessed you to think that it was appropriate to sext me–”

Sister?

Caroline nearly started laughing. Granted, they were both blonde and he couldn’t have seen her face, but good lord. She’d heard Rebekah’s sexcapades in the next room occasionally, and her roommate most definitely had varied tastes, but as far as she knew, incest wasn’t one of them.

Caroline schooled her face into a serious look before pulling the door open. “I am most definitely not your sister,” she said plainly. “Rebekah’s out for the night.”

His eyes were raking up and down her form, and she realized that the robe really didn’t do much to cover her (although, he’d seen it all already, really). She backed up slightly, holding the door open. “Do you want to come in?’

“You’re Caroline,” he said slowly.

“And you’re perceptive.”

He rolled his eyes and stalked past her. “Was this some sort of joke?” he asked carefully.

She honestly felt a bit insulted, and her cheeks went slightly pink as she hastened to explain. “No, of course not. You’re listed in my phone as ‘Klaus’ and I was trying to text someone who’s name started with L, and so then it was an accident but you texted back, and I mean, you have a mirror so it’s not like you don’t know you’re hot–”

He silenced her with his lips, pushing her up against the front door, biting her lightly. “We’ll talk about it later. After I fuck you.”

She breathed out a faint, “Yes, please,” making him smile rather wickedly.

His hands undid the knot of her robe and found their way in between her legs, running a finger down her slit, making her knees buckle.

She worked on the fastening of his pants, quickly freeing his erection from the confines of his clothing and stroking him firmly in time with his fingers, which were now sliding in and out of her wet pussy at a hard pace. She rolled her hips against his hand, and he licked and sucked at her neck as she let her head fall back against the door.

She moaned quietly as he pulled his fingers away from her, gently tugging her hand off of his cock as well, and he tugged her over to the couch, pushing her onto the cushions and kneeling between her legs, keeping eye contact with her as he licked his fingers clean of her juices.

She let out a soft moan, and he smiled that same taunting sinful smile before pulling her forward to bury his face between her thighs, his tongue rhythmically swirling around her clit, making her writhe underneath him, bucking her hips against his eager mouth.

His fingers returned to her core, pumping in and out of her as his tongue circled her clit, occasionally accompanied by light nips of his teeth.

She came quickly, moaning his name loudly as she did so, spreading her legs as widely as possible as she came down from her high.

He sank down next to her, grabbing her hips to pull her on top of him. She grabbed his shoulders, positioning herself carefully, and sinking onto his cock, moaning as he filled her completely.

She swore loudly, and he grasped his hips to encourage her to move. “Ride me, love.”

She did, her hips rolling against his as skin slapped skin, her loud moans and his quiet encouragements filling the room as he told her how tight and wet she felt around him and how sexy she was riding him, her breasts bouncing in the air with every thrust of his hips.

She came around him what almost felt like too soon, and his cock make small jolts of exquisitely painful pleasure alight in the sensitive skin of her core as he slammed into her with his cock.

“Get up,” he said through gritted teeth, and she did, feeling slightly confused. “Finish me with your mouth. I want to see your pretty lips wrapped around my cock and come down your throat,” he growled, the double meaning of and not in your uterus perfectly clear.

She sank to her knees, taking him in her mouth, her hand wrapping around the base as her lips moved up and down, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked him.

He groaned, his fingers gripping the cushions of the couch, and he mumbled out a warning a few seconds before he came in her mouth.

They were both panting. She could see his messy hair, flushed skin, and puffy lips, and she had a feeling she looked just as well-fucked, if not more so.

“That was good,” she breathed.

“Yeah, it was.”

They were silent for a moment, the only noise in the air their harsh breaths coming out in tandem.

“We should do that again,” he added.

“We should.”

He was magnetic, and she almost felt herself kiss him again before she knew that she was doing it. They met in a clash of lips and moans and deliciously sweaty skin, her legs wrapped around his waist while he cupped her ass, grinding her pussy against his rapidly hardening cock.

He pulled away, still a bit breathless, pulling her on top of him on the couch to straddle him. They held eye contact for a few seconds before they spoke at the same time.

“Don’t tell Rebekah.”

Thief

Part two of a prompt by thecitricacidcycle:  Outlaw Bandit: Robin sneaks into Regina’s hideaway to ambush her (in retaliation for something she’s done to him probably), but waits too long and she starts undressing.

Part I is here:  http://lolcat76.tumblr.com/post/121147492845/oq-prompt


Since the first time he’d picked a pocket that she’d set her sights on in Nottinghamshire, Regina Mills had envisioned her first meeting with Robin Hood. Most of her fantasies involved him bleeding at her feet, begging her pardon. None had involved her being naked from the waist up. She stood rooted to the spot in her cozy den, still clutching her shirt against her chest, dumbstruck that he’d managed to sneak in and lie in wait without her noticing.

She was getting careless.

Regina blamed her temper. She’d bided her time for months, hoping to catch the Merry Men off-guard and beat them to the punch for once. This last job had been perfect; she’d planned it to the second, only to arrive at the side of the road and find her traps completely dismantled. No need to guess who had done it; the Merry Men and that idiot Robin of Locksley were the only ones who’d dare interefere with her plans. Common sense told her to let it go and plan for the next heist; pride sent her to the tavern they favored to find a way to bring him low for once.

And it had been so easy – he and his men were three sheets to the wind when she’d arrived, and all it had taken was a coy smile and a plunging bodice to distract the Merry Men while she’d plucked Robin’s bow from the back of his chair. After all, they were hardly staring at her hands.

Truthfully, she’d had no intention of keeping it. The bow was too large to serve her purposes, and while she’d relished finally pulling one over on Robin of Locksley, she didn’t intend to make an enemy out of the man. She just wanted to see him break a sweat for once. She’d lifted the bow and snuck out of the tavern, throwing a dark cloak over her shoulders.  That’s when she’d seen him; a gentleman dressed in all the finery of the local gentry, stumbling about unsteadily on two feet and clearly the worse for wear from an evening at the tavern. An easy mark, she’d thought, right up until the moment when his carriage had pulled up, escorted by two of the queen’s black knights.

No matter, she had thought. She’d gotten the best of a black knight or two in her day; surely these two would not prove to be a challenge.

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