#Caches-Sexe

[philoursmars]

Marseille. Au MuCEM, une expo "Paradis Naturistes". Donc, si une paire de seins ou de couilles vous gêne, passez votre sage chemin...

1 - "minimum levantin" (cache-sexe masculin en perles) - Île du Levant

3 - "'passeport levantin" (équivalent féminin) - Île du Levant

5 - Fac-simile de l'Ephèbe d'Agde (peut-être Alexandre le Grand ?) - IIIe s. av. J-C.

6 - Honor David-Gell - ''Gaston et André Durville courant.

[bizarrelittlemew]

sometimes i write something and think "is this too much like is it too fucked up" but then i remember that 1. there is no such thing and 2. i do not need to write for the delicatest bad faith reader it is on them to read tags and notes and c. i do not need a fascist in my head there are too many (>0) out there already and 4. i actually do not have to analyze why i write the stuff i do i am allowed to be creative without examining my brain about it

[cockringhoratio]

listen i know i made my little joke about vash and legato’s Whole Deal. but. but. legato fucking slobbering on vash’s gun and screaming at him to shoot him. repeatedly. am i to believe this is regular heterosexual behavior on gunsmoke.

[gonzodangerfeels]

Life is strange when a woman fondly reminisces about a below average sized dick because the man she married can't even reach her first internal erogenous zone.

[nxtaliaistyping]

Dick Grayson recording you both having sex

18+ nsfw, like one spank

He's the kind of guy to get off on noise, whether it's in person: you screaming his name as he can hear beneath your whimpers the squelch of your drenched cunt as he thrusts deep inside you. Or when you both are apart: phone pressed tight to his ear so he can hear your fingers rubbing tight circles on your sloppy clit, breathy and whiny as you tell him how much you miss him, how much you want him home and in your bed, touching you instead of having to touch yourself.

So when the topic of sex tapes and the like came up, you joking that he's gotta have made a sex tape at some point in his life, he smirks as he asks if you wanna try. But not a visual one. At your confusion, he seeks to show you what he means.

His phone lays just at the side of your shoulder, jolting with every movement of the mattress as Dick fucks you rhythmically. Thighs pressed against your chest, the speakers of the phone pick up all the whines and moans being pounded out of you as your boyfriend keeps thrusting over and over again. He moans too, never a quiet lover, feeling the heaven which is your pussy wrapped so tightly around him.

"Come on baby, tell me how it feels. It's good, huh? Tell me." he practically begs you, hair sticking to his forehead as he keeps moving, relishing in your verbal confirmation; the little whiny gasps of it's so good dick, as you slur your words a little when he hits a particularly good spot.

"Yeah that's it, that's my pretty girl. Takin' my cock like a champ, you always do."

He prays in that moment the phone is picking up the soft plap plap plap of his hips slamming into your ass, the wet noises emanating from your cunt joining them in a sinful cacophony. Just for added effect, he spanks your ass for the loud noise that rings out from his hand, as well as the small shriek of surprise that falls from your lips.

Turns out the recording is useful, as two weeks later he's in Gotham for a few days helping Bruce tie up some loose ends with some weapons caches belonging to Penguin, but the need for you grows after a couple of lonely nights in the manor without you there warming his bed. So he stuff his earphones in and presses the audio recording you both made, and the result is instant.

He's hard as a rock in his pants, and while his plan was to palm himself at the first few minutes of the audio, all it takes is a particularly delicious moan after a hard thrust from you to have him shoving his boxers down impatiently. Hand around his shaft, he starts to pump in time with the recording's pace, imagining you there with him as both of your moans and words fill his ears.

He cums with a long drawn out moan, spilling all over his chest, grateful he pulled his shirt up just in time. While he catches his breath, he turns the phone camera on and snaps a pic of the mess he just made, before opening up your message logs and pressing send, along with the caption

'How i get from hearing my pretty girl being fucked <3'

[hanasnx]

brucie and his 19 year old girlfriend who he flaunts around Gotham like it’s no big deal. he takes her everywhere and anywhere there will be press. everyone is so shocked and they don’t even know what to say. especially the kids. dick and jason are (high key) jealous of it… -🍓

PART ONE ✩ PART TWO MINORS DNI 18+

BRUCE WAYNE has been keeping you around to garner attention around himself and off of his dealings as the Batman. You were the perfect candidate given your social influence, your popularity, and it helped you were easy on the eyes. If Bruce Wayne was the center of controversy for dating someone half his age, Batman could keep a lookout on Penguin’s latest caches without distractions like the Cobblepots releasing a statement that Batman is wrongfully investigating a man based on appearance. Prejudice doesn’t make the news, but an age gap does.

You practically float off the floor when Bruce is around, whether it be an arm around your waist; leading you or twirling you like a dance with music he hums; sweeping you off your feet, easily up over his head. It becomes clear why he’s so dangerous, he’s such a charmer. Somehow he has romance dialed in, and you fell for someone so put-together. You love going everywhere with him, and when a fan asks for a picture, he’s the first to hug you from behind and curl his huge body around you, cheek-to-cheek with his chin over your shoulder. He’s so shamelessly touchy. It gets to a point where he likes when you scold him with a pat. Hitting his sturdy bicep when he tugs the neckline of your dress to him for a peek at your tits, and all he does is growl at you playfully, like you’re asking for it later.

To be honest, you are. Yet, Bruce won’t get it to you. He dangles it over your head in public, but alone he makes up some excuse and calls his butler to drive you home.

One time when you’ve been invited to the Manor, it was so you could get ready and drive to a gala with Bruce. Arriving together is a big statement, and you’re excited, but in a much realer sense there’s a tickle of dread in your stomach. Bruce told you to make yourself comfortable and wait for him, he’s terribly sorry that he has to attend to something first and if he’d had it his way a lady wouldn’t wait on a gentleman. You’ve already fantasized this might be it, he’s finally going to ask you. Sitting on this chaise in front of a fire you clench your legs together at the reminder. Perhaps he’s getting ready so he’ll finally sleep with you. Briefly, you imagine what the paparazzi would bark at you if you arrived to the gala with sex hair. It brings a smile to your face.

Just in case, you had outfitted yourself with a tasteful nightgown underneath your clothes, and you decide now is the time to enact it. Shimmying off your garments, you then arrange yourself seductively on the chaise. Bruce’ll be here any minute, and he always acts so insatiable in public. Maybe if you surprise him, he won’t be able to steel himself. Your fingers play with the hem, already short but your ride it up even more, and trace circles onto your bare hip. You’ve felt his hands on your hips when you wore a stringy little bikini for him on his yacht, and those callused hands had pulled you right down on his lap to stick his tongue in your mouth. You can still taste it, closing your eyes to revisualize it. He was so big underneath you—

“… and this is a one time thing, understand? My debt is paid.”

“Don’t worry, birdboy, I won’t tell your old man—“

Voices come into focus, alerting you as the door opens and not one but two people come in. Two people you do not recognize. Without thinking it through, you stand to conceal your seductive pose meant for someone else, and everything else slips your mind.

Two men. Boyish. Both with black hair that’s grown out, and one of them with a white stripe sprouting from the front of his hairline.

“Oh,” DICK GRAYSON says. He’s no stranger to walking in on something he shouldn’t see. “Sorry, didn’t see you there.”

“Nice outfit.” JASON TODD adds, and you can tell he’s making fun of you. Your cheeks grow red hot, and you scramble for something to cover yourself up. A thin throw blanket folded over the back of the chaise is hastily straightened out to cover yourself.

Wary he might cause you grief, Dick points to a bookshelf behind you. “We just have to… get something.” He waits for something, and you realize he wants you to reply. You nod, hoping to just end this as soon as possible.

The blanket covers most, but a lot of your thigh is exposed. You try to turn with them as you they pass you, but Jason cranes his neck to catch a glance of your ass. The undersides of it hang out of your tiny nightgown. An indignant crease in your brow forms, and you make an obvious move to yank the blanket over your ass, turning it away from him. Dick keeps going, Jason hangs behind. “What’re you doing here, missy? You look a little young.” Condescension. The last thing you need right now is a conversation.

“Yeah, are you looking for someone?” Dick asks over his shoulder, more polite than his companion as he searches the spines of books with a finger.

You hesitate to say anything, you don’t know these people. “I’m waiting on someone.” A tremble shivers through you, the back of you cold from being away from the fire, and your nerves didn’t help.

“You’re not a hooker, are you?” Jason’s blunt nature shines through in his question, not that he’s intrigued or judgmental, just curious.

Your first instinct is to be offended he’d say something like that to a lady, frowning at him with a scoff. “What? No! And—!” It dawns on you that you shouldn’t put down sex work, you’re overreacting. So you wiggle your shoulders and stick your nose in the air, prissing up your attitude. “It wouldn’t matter if I was.” you say, quieter this time.

“Sure, it does. I’ve got cash on me.” Jason replies, only to get that cute offended look back on your face.

“Jason, shut up. She doesn’t know you’re trying to get under her skin.” Dick plucks out the book, and flips through it. He joins you and Jason, and you take a wary step back. He doesn’t notice, snapping the book shut and handing it off to Jason. Those blue eyes are back on you again, and you swear you see him give you a quick once-over. “Whoever you’re waiting on is a lucky guy.” he says, and by his tone you’re unsure if it’s a genuine flirt. When he smiles, dimples define, and for a brief second you’re weak in the knees.

A third voice pipes up, deeper than them both. “She’s with me.” Bruce says, walking in as he adjusts his cuff links. “Jason, always a pleasure to find you sneaking around my house.”

[lupinmoonlight]

Too Full

Masterlist AO3

Summary - Remus pumps you full and tells you to hold it in for the rest of the day. Literally. (1,590 words)

Tags - rough sex, dom/sub dynamic, dom remus lupin, sub reader, cum kink(?), age gap, porn without plot, praise kink, lots of "good girl", light humiliation kink, my grammar, not proof-read.

Notes - Guys this is absolute filth I don't know what else to tell you. I'm embarrassed. I made up this silly scenario at university today. I'm sorry if this is a mess. I wrote this in 2 hours, barely proof-read it, and English isn't my first language. Good night now!

The parchment in Remus' hands blurred at the edges. Numbers swam before his eyes - Order safe house locations, patrol schedules, supply caches. None of it seemed to penetrate the fog of his mind. All he could see was the flash of a silhouette pinned beneath him, hear the echo of a moan. Your silhouette. Your moan. 

Your relationship was a secret. It was a raw, passionate love, born out of desperation and need. Remus knew it was almost unhealthy, the way he craved you, needed you, but he couldn't help himself. You were his escape, his forbidden sanctuary in a world gone mad. 

His focus on the parchment was shattered, his thoughts consumed by you. A frustrated sigh escaped his lips. He was aching to be with you, but the house was always bustling with Order business... until it wasn't. For a delightful moment, the attention wasn't on him, the members too busy, too taken with their own tasks. 

He didn't need to say anything. He just took you by the hand and you knew. The moment the door to his bedroom slammed shut behind you, he warded it. His need was immediate and overwhelming. He was already rock hard, his erection straining against his trousers evident. He wasted no time, spinning you around and pushing you face down on the bed, hiking up your skirt with an urgency that bordered on madness. 

"Remus," you gasped, your voice muffled by the mattress. 

"Shh, sweetheart," he growled. "I can't wait any longer. I need you. I need you now." 

He hastily freed himself, his erection throbbing with need. The sight of you, face down and hips raised, made his cock twitch almost painfully. He tugged your panties down, just enough to give him access, and positioned himself at your entrance. He pressed hip tip against you, feeling your warmth, and pushed into you with one swift thrust. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips firmly. 

You whimpered, your body trying to accommodate his size. "R-Remus..." you gasped, your fingers clenching the sheets. 

He stilled, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your hips. "Easy, love," he murmured. "Take a deep breath. Just relax for me. You can take it." 

You nodded, your breathing evening out as you adjusted to him. "That's it, good girl," he praised as he felt you relax about him. Once he felt your ease, Remus began to move, his thrusts slow and controlled. His grip on your hips tightened, pulling you back to meet his movements. 

"That's it," he groaned, his pace quickening. "Take me. Take all of me." Each thrust was powerful, demanding, driven by a need that bordered on feral. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, tugging it back, making you arch back into him. "God, you feel so good wrapped around me." 

You moaned in response, your body yielding to him. "Remus..." you whimpered. 

"Such a good girl...taking me so well." 

Your body shuddered with each movement, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. "I can't...Remus, I..." 

"Yes, you can," he growled. "You can take it. Let go for me." 

You cried out, your body trembling violently as you reached the edge, clenching around him. 

"That's it," he murmured, his grip on your hips painfully tight. 

He could feel himself nearing the edge too, his control slipping further with each thrust. "I'm close," he warned you, his voice strained. "You're going to make me come. Ah...fuck. I'm going to come inside of you." 

He thrust into you one last time and held himself as deep as he could, his hips bucking as he released inside you, a loud moan escaping his lips. "Yes...you feel so fucking good," he groaned, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm. He stayed inside you for a while, his cock pulsating, lazily thrusting a few more times to prolong the sensation. 

Eventually, he slowly withdrew, his breath still heavy, his hands caressing your back. "Are you alright?" he asked softly. 

You nodded, your cheeks flushed. 

He smiled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before pulling you up and turning you to face him. 

"I want you to do something for me." 

"What is it?" you asked, still breathless. 

"Don't clean up," he said simply. "I want you to stay like this, full of me, all day." 

Your eyes widened, a deep blush spreading across your cheeks. "Remus..." 

He chuckled softly as his fingers traced random little patterns on your skin. "Yes, love. You will do as you're told, aren't you?" 

"Y-yes, Remus," you responded, eager to please him despite being embarrassed. 

"What a good girl," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Now, let's tidy up a bit so we can head back. We don't want the others suspecting anything, do we?" 

"No, Professor," you teased. 

"Careful, love," he warned playfully. "You might just get me started again." 

"Maybe that's what I want," you replied innocently.

Remus chuckled, shaking his head. "You're insatiable." 

He helped you adjust your clothes and gave you one last, lingering kiss before leading you out of his bedroom like nothing had happened. 

Only a few hours later, you felt the undeniable sensation of Remus' essence running down your thighs. Your face flushed a deep crimson, and you immediately sought him out. You made your way to the dining room where the Order was gathered for a meeting. You waited at the doorway, your eyes wide and pleading. Remus' eyes traveled your form, pausing briefly at your thighs, and he immediately understood. 

Maintaining his composure, he stood smoothly. "Excuse me for a moment," he said calmly. 

He followed you to the study, closing the door behind you. "What is it, love?" he asked, although he already knew the answer. He wanted to hear you say it. 

You hesitated, looking down in embarrassment. "Remus...it's...running down my thighs," you admitted. 

His eyes darkened with desire at your words. He lifted your skirt slightly, exposing your slick thighs. "Aww," he cooed, his tone both mocking and affectionate. "Is my little girl too full?"

Your face turned an even deeper shade of red, and you looked away, flustered. "Remus, I-"

"Hush," he interrupted. "Let me see." 

You stood still, your heart pounding in your chest as he lifted your skirt further up, giving him better access. He took out a handkerchief and began wiping you clean, his touch light and gentle. "You need to try and hold it in a bit longer, love," he murmured.

"But, Remus, I can't-"

"No," he said firmly. "You will do as I say. Can you do that for me?" 

"Y-yes, Remus." 

"Very good," he whispered. "Now be a good girl and hold it in. I'll take care of you after the meeting." 

You nodded again, his words going straight to your core. "I'll try." 

Remus smiled, kissing your forehead. "That's all I ask. Now, go back to what you were doing." 

Remus watched you go before composing himself and returning to the meeting, his demeanor as calm and collected as ever. 

"Sorry for the interruption," he said smoothly, taking his seat. "Where were we?" 

You kept to yourself for the rest of the day, mostly focusing on staying still, desperate to please Remus. As evening finally fell, Remus discreetly took you back to his bedroom, closing and warding the door behind you. 

"Show me," he instructed. 

You hesitated for a moment, your cheeks flushed. Slowly, you lifted your skirt, revealing the sticky mess that had accumulated throughout the day. Remus hummed appreciatively at the sight, his eyes darkening. 

"My, my...looks like I've made quite the mess down there," he whispered. "You've done so well, sweetheart. I'm very pleased with you," he praised. 

You could barely hold still under his gaze, feeling exposed. 

"Now, let it out," he commanded softly. 

You went to protest, thoroughly embarrassed by the idea. "But, Remus, I can't just-" 

"I said, let it out," he repeated firmly. 

You bit her lip, your eyes darting nervously, but you obeyed him, relaxing your muscles. Remus watched with satisfaction as the evidence of your intimacy slowly began to trickle down your thighs.

"Good girl," he murmured. "You're doing so well." 

Your face burned with embarrassment, but you felt a strange sense of pride for following his instructions, for pleasing him. 

"That's it, just let it out," he soothed, his hands gently rubbing your hips. "How did you feel today? Sitting around the others knowing you were full of my seed?"

"I-I felt like I was...yours," you let out almost too quietly. 

"That's right, love. You're mine. Say it." 

"I'm yours, Remus." 

"Such a good girl for me," he praised. "You've done so well today. Now, let get you cleaned up properly." 

He led you to the bathroom, helping you undress and stepping into the shower with you. He washed you gently, his hands moving slowly, caring, possessive, gentle. 

"You've been so good," he murmured. "You did exactly as I asked." 

You leaned into his touch, feeling utterly safe and cherished. "I just wanted to please you," you whispered. 

"And you did. You've pleased me very much," he replied, his hands gently massaging your shoulders. 

After you were both clean, Remus dried you off with a soft towel, his movements slow and deliberate. He led you back to the bedroom and tucked you into bed, joining you under the covers. 

"You need your rest," he said softly, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "You've done enough for today."

[philoursmars]

Marseille, une des deux expos permanentes du MuCEM : "Méditerranées".

Alternés avec :

Théo Mercier - "Marée blanche"... étonnamment, ces objets sont des sculptures en onyx blanc !

...Théo Mercier - "Tell me a scorie"

idem

"'minimum" levantin (cache-sexe masculin) - Île du Levant, 1950

[hyenagurl]

the “feminism means any choice a woman makes is empowerment” crowd seem to only like that cache when it comes to makeup and “sex work”, but not when it comes to female separatism huh

[doumadono]

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

Officer!Bakugo is a seriously scary motherfucker - he's really tall and big, and he gives off an intimidating vibe. I mean, he gets annoyed over the tiniest stuff

Officer!Bakugo is a stereotypical “bad cop” type - tough, no-nonsense, and not afraid to bend the rules

If Bakugo slams his fist on the table during an interrogation, you can bet you'll spill all your secrets, whether you like it or not, thanks to those intense crimson eyes boring into your soul

Officer!Bakugo owns a big K9 dog named Blast. The massive belgian malinois is super intimidating - nobody dares to move when the dog is around, showing off its long fangs. The dog pays close attention to whatever Katsuki commands

Bakugo often goes undercover to bust drug rings. His intense look, paired with his scarred face and that maniac grin, makes him appear like someone who tasted cocaine or any other heavy drug for breakfast

When Bakugo raises his voice, it makes both kids and adults cry

Officer!Bakugo harbors a cache of dark secrets, ranging from covering up crimes to manipulating evidence. He becomes adept at concealing his corrupt actions behind a facade of a dedicated officer

Bakugo really likes wearing the uniform because it makes his ass, chest, and shoulders look awesome

Officer!Bakugo drives his cop car like crazy, but he's super skilled at it - when he's chasing someone, he always catches them

Can and will swiftly pin anyone down in just 1 second flat (he's used this move on his one-night stands numerous times)

One of the corrupt things officer!Bakugo does is take it easy on the cute girls (basically all the girls he finds attractive) when they come to his office to report a crime or seek help

He's definitely used handcuffs on a few girls in his career

Sex in his office is a must, but his police car is also on the list

Bakugo's preferred position is doggy style - he just loves the feeling of being in total control and able to thrust as hard and fast as he pleases while spanking the ass of his lover, like when he apprehended you for exceeding the speed limit, and due to your earnest pleas and appeals, he opted to fuck your little, sweet-scented cunt rather than revoke your driving license. You found yourself pinned down to the backseat of his car, your ass raised up as Bakugo fucked your cunt mercilessly from behind, spanking your ass every now and then. The vehicle was swaying with each forceful thrust as he assaulted your drenched pussy, growling like an animal. "Just like that, you little whore. Look at you, taking my cock so well. Dripping wet just f'me like a good slut you are."

Officer!Bakugo has a kink for public sex. There is something thrilling about the danger of being caught, the thought of someone stumbling upon you in the act only added to the excitement, especially when you're bent over, sucking his dick while he's smoking a blunt in his police car, guiding your head more towards his pelvis, and the only thing you can do is to choke on his fat cock as its tip hits the back of your throat repeatedly

Officer!Bakugo has a particular fondness for dominating his girls, both physically and mentally. He enjoys the thrill of manipulating them into submission, leaving them begging for more and being on his mercy

Officer!Bakugo quickly gets turned on when a girl pleads for mercy with doe eyes; also, he really likes skimpy skirts that hardly cover her ass

Officer!Bakugo enjoys night patrols the most because there's a better chance of catching criminals and tormenting them. Plus, Katsuki can smoothly hand out fines to loud tipsy ladies leaving the clubs, and he even doesn't hide that he's checking them out

Officer!Bakugo who has a preference for younger girls (Katsuki is in his mid-30s, but he won't hesitate to flirt with someone barely over twenty-year-old)

[katakaluptastrophy]

Let's be very clear about what the Houses do.

When Gideon fantasises about leaving the Ninth, this is what she imagines:

Not for Gideon a security detail on one of the holding planets, either on a lonely outpost on an empty world or in some foreign city babysitting some Third governor. Gideon wanted a drop ship—first on the ground—a fat shiny medal saying INVASION FORCE ON WHATEVER, securing the initial bloom of thanergy without which the finest necromancer of the Nine Houses could not fight worth a damn. The front line of the Cohort facilitated glory. In her comic books, necromancers kissed the gloved palms of their front-liner comrades in blessed thanks for all that they did. In the comic books none of these adepts had heart disease, and a lot of them had necromantically uncharacteristic cleavage.

A drop ship of infantry. Armed with those infantry standard two-hander swords. Their job is to secure the initial bloom of thanergy. Which sounds like a very antiseptic way of saying that a House invasion starts with a suicide squad of teenagers whose job it is to cause as many casualties as possible, so that the necromancers have something to work with. Teenagers like Gideon, desperate serfs or just wanting to make something of themselves, sold a promise of sex and glory, economic assets of their far-flung Houses until their untimely deaths.

But how useful their deaths, and those they take with them are! To the necromanvers of the Second, who can drain your thalergy as you die screaming. The Third, who can draw energy from the corpses littering the battlefield. The Fourth, who can turn them into bombs...

Until the subdued planet can be flipped, a contract put in place, a profit exacted. That Third governor installed.

Later, John explains to Harrow how planets are flipped:

So back at the start we’d drop in a single Lyctor, unnoticed, to start the thanergy reaction. Not to flip the whole planet, you understand, just to get the juice flowing.” He made a hand gesture for get the juice flowing, which made your head hurt. “Then within an hour or two you could send down a team of adepts and be confident they’d have all the reserves they needed. Nowadays we can’t afford to use Lyctors, so the first strike falls to the men and women of the Cohort, and they do a magnificent job…but the old way was neater, and kinder too, I think.

And in NTN, Aim describes her own harrowing experience as a displaced victim of what happens after that invasion, after the long and exploitative economic contract, and after the planet finally succumbs to its flipping:

The usual. It had been under contract for a long time. I mean, we were the third settlement wave, they built the Crescent in the bones of two other cities, you couldn’t dig up anything without finding remnants of a people we’d never known. The microbial population didn’t show signs of serious decay until the moment before the sea went anaerobic. The things crawling out of there … they seemed to mutate all at once … The Houses pulled support, said they’d prep us for an early move, but they left minimal forces in the barracks. We dug up old caches of materiel and used them. On the mutants from the sea, on the animals as they changed, on one another, on the Houses when they saw what we’d got our hands on and came back to take control. Blood of Eden was there too, you know. And in the end the Houses won and most of us surrendered and we were moved. Two moves later, and I’m here. There’s still a facility on Lemuria, of course. A decade later the Houses made it safe for geopolymer refining. It must be desolate.

And so you get the "lonely outpost on an empty world", the assignment Gideon saw as so unglamorous.

[capr1pengu1n]

Twist the knife like it's something to do

Summary: When Nightwing asks you to stake out The Riddler in his warehouse, you come to realise you've played right into his hands

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem reader (no use of y/n), fingering, rough sex, kidnapping, slight dubcon (just to be safe, reader is hesitant but is into it), hair pulling, teasing, Edward being an ass

Words: 5.7k

Notes: So this was an anon request for a vigilante!reader/riddler smut fic but cause i'm useless with technology I accidentally deleted it. Hope you like it anon!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Irritating.

If there’s one word you’d use to describe The Riddler, that’s what it would be. Irritating…irritating…and so goddamn all consuming. Being a vigilante, you were used to people trying to get under your skin; some sleaze trying to make you uncomfortable when you catch them, some of the big-name criminals beefing up security and trying to learn your tricks. But something about The Riddler was different, a different sort of irritating.

It started the first time you tried to stop him, Nightwing had made you promise to go in through the back and stay put to ensure nobody tried to make a hasty getaway. But you were curious, reckless even, and went in regardless. Little did you know it was Edward’s plan to get caught, but during the commotion he saw you. The look on his face was the picture of curiosity, but at the time you’d figured it was due to the fact you’re a female vigilante. Next thing you knew the lights were out, when they came back, he was gone.

That’s when you started to get named in his riddles. Small at first, little taunts to you as well as the police or Batman after his latest heist or extortion of a wealthy politician. However it heightened when you started to solve them. While trying to track where he’d kidnapped a GCPD officer, you followed the clues addressed to you, which ended in a bouquet of flowers at the end of the trail, attached to the key to the bomb around the officer’s neck. Another time, it led to a phone call with him where he shamelessly asked riddles where the answers were ‘attraction’ and ‘desire’ before revealing where the latest Monet painting he’d taken was hidden. Honestly you didn’t know how much more you could take, how many more times you can hide the blush, or the slight tremor in your voice. It makes you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush, not a vigilante trying to apprehend a dangerous criminal mastermind.

Balancing on a loose beam, you watch as Edward snaps at his goons, mocking them as they fail to give him the responses he wants.

“Anything?” you hear Nightwing say in your earpiece, causing you to climb up so you’re further out of earshot of the villain below.

“Not yet. I’ll let you know.”

“Good, I’ve got three of Penguin’s weapons caches I need to neutralise, the last thing I need is riddle freak on my ass.”

You sigh, knowing you needed to get something to prove yourself as you climb back down, a million thoughts rushing through your head. You were instrumental in the latest hit to organised crime in Gotham; you managed to find and take down a major part of Roman Sionis’s drug operation, even subduing him for the police. He was released on a technicality of course, but it was still a major blow to his criminal dealings. But better than that, it made you feel good. Made you feel like you were making a difference, that Nightwing wasn’t wrong to train you. But that’s when you realise, Edward isn’t talking anymore. He’s just…smiling? Smiling at his computer screen. With grace you manage to get to the upper level of the warehouse, glancing at the other- wait, where did his goons go? You frantically try and look around the warehouse, keeping close to the ground but it’s no use. All you can do is curse yourself, there’s no way he’ll say anything useful about his plans now. However your thoughts come to an abrupt end when your earpiece comes back to life.

“Hey, are you still in there���something-“ A sharp static suddenly bursts through your ear, causing you to yelp softly in pain and pull the earpiece out. The noise continues until it cuts out, followed quickly by the lights. Shrouded in darkness, you slightly panic, standing to your full height and adjusting your suit sleeve, trying to turn on the built in flashlight.

“I can keep you alive, but prevent you from living, what am I?”

The lights kick back in, and your head turns to the side. The Riddler stands there, his self-satisfied smirk plastered on his face as he twirls his revolver in his hands. You stand there, frozen before you register he’s waiting for you to answer.

“Adrenaline?”

“Fear, but close enough. Did I scare you?”

He steps forward, but your limbs don’t seem to want to move. Towering over you, his eyes trace over your face in a curious way as all you can do is shake your head softly.

“Oh, I didn’t? Well isn’t that something…I’m sorry to have cut your boyfriend off there but, well, can’t have him ruining all my fun can I?”

Jab to the elbow crease, kick to the groin, down up round and a swift punch to the back, all ways you could easily take a guy like The Riddler down. But caught under his gaze, something seems to lock you in place as your breath comes a little heavier than before.

“Come now pretty girl, didn’t you like all my presents? I knew you’d be the one to be here…I planned this all for you.” He delights at your puzzled expression as you stare at him, bringing his revolver up to trace it over your jawline.

“I wanted the bat’s attention, hell I’d have even taken the limited mental capacities of the latest boy blunder he drags around with him. But then…all of a sudden there you were. Even now you’re curious, you aren’t even trying to defend yourself.”

You couldn’t stop the blush even if you tried, because you know he’s right. You know you’re holding back, but then again, you’ve been holding back this whole time because-

“You like it, don’t you? You like my attention.” He murmurs, before smirking. “Oh don’t look so embarrassed darling, you think I don’t like having yours? It’s certainly been thrilling…”

A buzz in his pocket interrupts him, causing him to curse under his breath.

“Well I’ll have to speed this up, come on.” He says quickly, grabbing your arm and putting the revolver against your lower back. “Don’t try and run, I’d hate to test if that suit of yours is bulletproof from this range.”

Pulling you to another part of the warehouse, you feel a sharp prick on your neck before you start to stagger, his breath hitting your ear and making you shiver.

“Sorry sweetheart.” Is the last thing you hear before blacking out, going limp in his arms.

Irritation, that emotion bubbles up in you again as you come to. You sit up on a sofa, your fingers feeling the puncture mark on your neck. You can’t believe you let The Riddler drug you, god you’re gonna hear hell from Nightwing when you get out of here. Glancing around, the apartment you’re in seems oddly cozy, fluorescent light beaming through the windows from a billboard outside. Art on the walls, hardwood flooring that looks polished and waxed…hell you even notice the blanket around your waist. It all looks so surreal, so normal.

“What were you expecting? Not this?”

You jump at the voice, glancing around at him. You stand up, before he sighs and shows the revolver in his hand, indicating for you to sit back down.

“Come now sweetheart, I was nice enough to not tie you up.”

“You kidnapped me.”

“…that’s a matter of perspective. Think of it as a sabbatical of sorts.”

Stalking over, he takes a seat on a chair facing you. The way he sits, so relaxed with his legs spread and that stupid smirk on his face forces you to glance away. Despite the effort it must have taken to transport you here, his suit remains remarkably clean. Less garish than what you’ve seen him wear previously, just a crisp emerald green with a purple tie. His gloved hand messes with his revolver, seemingly unbothered, but you know better. Everything is controlled with Edward; he won’t enter a scenario unless he’s completely sure what he’s getting himself into.

“Like my apartment?” he asks, “One of several of course.”

You try not to scoff at his barely concealed brag, looking at him.

“Is that supposed to impress me?” you bite back, causing him to bark out a laugh.

“Why? Is it working? Can’t imagine being a vigilante pays that well, does the pretty boy give you tips?” he smirks, taunting you about Nightwing. You scoff again, shaking your head.

“No? Shame, I bet you don’t even take a bit off the top of those dealers you take down. No, you’re too much of a good girl for that.”

God that stupid phrase really forces you to try and hide your blush, but Edward catches the slight change in your breathing.

“You know, conversation is much more stimulating when the other party actually responds.”

“Screw you.” You can’t help but say, causing his laugh to ring out again.

“Feisty thing aren’t you? After everything I’ve done to you, maybe all I want is a little chat. Perhaps even a little gratitude.”

With your pause he leans in a little, his eyes scanning over your face.

“You do know it was me…don’t you?” he states, before getting up and picking a newspaper off the nearby table, throwing it to you. Quickly grabbing it, you look at the headline ‘New female vigilante helps take down Black Mask.’

“Convenient wasn’t it? The first thug you interrogate is the one who manages to lead you right to the heart of the operation. The thug who just happens to be in the area you usually patrol on Tuesdays.”

You can’t help but stare at him, bewildered. He paid the thug…he knew you’d catch him dealing and try and interrogate him to reveal where him and the rest of Black Mask’s gang were operating from. “So you…why? Why would you help me?”

“Why do I do anything sweetheart?” he counters, sitting back down. “Sionis was irritating me, that I won’t deny. But being able to manipulate those rats, as well as the pretty girl who’s been solving my riddles? Christmas came early.”

His smug tone causes your breath to come deeper, regardless of his motives he’d…helped you. That realisation causes a swirl of emotions to bubble inside you, unsure which one you should be feeling.

“What? No thank you? I realise you did much of the heavy lifting but…well I did help, didn’t I?”

“You used me, that isn’t helping.”

“Used? No no sweetheart…helped. I think you should say thank you.”

His tone wasn’t demanding per say, but stern. A challenge visible in his eyes. You know you shouldn’t, putting on a dismissive face to hide the slight arousal running through you at his voice.

“Come on…I know you want to. Say thank you.” He says, his voice softer but no less decisive. His foot taps on the hardwood floor, the revolver makes a small noise when he spins it, his eyes bore into yours; it’s all too much. With a shaky breath, you say it.

“Thank you.”

The smile on his face is worth a thousand words. “You’re very welcome sweetheart.”

You blush, in spite of yourself. The praise of a murderer is not something you should be getting flustered over, but here you are. Picking awkwardly at your sleeve, you watch as he adjusts himself.

“You know…this cat and mouse game is fun, don’t get me wrong. But I’ll confess to getting antsy, and I think you feel the same. Don’t you?” he states, before placing the revolver on the floor and kicking it away. “There…no force. Why don’t you come over here?”

Your eyes dart to the gun, realising this is your chance. You can run, beat him to a pulp, leave him for the police to find, look through his apartment for evidence of whatever crime he’s planning next. And then your eyes trail back to him, the way his suit clings to him, the slight smirk playing on his lips.

“Why?” you ask, your voice softer than you meant it to be.

“Because I want to look at you…see you up close.” He replies, his voice matter of fact. So, against your better judgement, you stand and slowly walk towards him. He grins and gently traces your waist, feeling the ridges of your suit. “I’ve thought about this…tell me. Have you?”

You swallow, knowing you can’t lie to him. Your mask may cover the area around your eyes, but you know he can read your expression like a book regardless. “Yes…”

“Intellectual stimulation is often a powerful aphrodisiac, at least for the more intelligent of the species.” He murmurs, gently holding your hip and pulling you down, causing you to perch on his thigh. He never breaks eye contact as he speaks. “You know you can’t feel that…excitement, with anyone else. The thrill of being the only one to figure out my challenges, being the only one to come close to my brilliant mind. Apart from the bat but…well…I don’t think he’d be as eager to sit on my lap as you now, would he?”

You know your cheeks are on fire as you look down on him, your lips parted in a way that’s oh so tempting for Edward. His fingers trail to your back, with ease unclipping your utility belt and letting it fall to the floor. Not once does he look away from you, even when you do. He tuts, giving your thigh a squeeze.

“Eyes on me. I want you to see, to know who’s touching you.”

How could you forget? You almost feel sick as you just let The Riddler feel you up, his fingers running along your thigh, before running back towards your ass. Perhaps you could try and kid yourself, that he’s just coercing you or forcing you, but the thought of that lie makes you feel even sicker. Because the truth is, you don’t think you’ve ever been this wet in your life. And he’s barely gotten started.

Looking down at him, you watch as he brings his gloved hand to your mouth, his finger against your plush lips. His eyes were expectant as you gently tug the glove off with your teeth.

“I conduct better without.” He says, his voice a little lower than usual as he makes you repeat it with the other glove. He praises you in a sickly manner as he folds them and places them on the arm of the chair, and you’d laugh at his neatness if you weren’t trying to focus on not whimpering at any small touch he graces you with.

“A ruler’s unthinkable action, a condemned man’s last action, a religious man’s daily action. What am I, pretty girl?” he says into your ear, running his hand up to tug the hair tie out of your hair. Swallowing, you try and think as his fingers gently scratch at your scalp, before he sharply tugs.

“I expect an answer. Don’t tell me you’ve gone all shy, or should I give you a clue?” he teases darkly, giving another tug and causing a soft whimper to escape you. “It’s something I’m sure you’ve thought about.”

You blink softly, before stammering out. “Kneeling…”

“Correct.” He gives you a condescending pat on the cheek. “I knew you were a smart girl.”

You really need to leave now, really need to just take him down and find a way to contact Nightwing. But Grayson isn’t who you’re thinking about, isn’t whose hands are currently putting pressure on your shoulder, guiding you to the open space between his legs, who’s grasping at your jaw and tilting it upwards to look down at you.

“Oh sweetheart…do you know how much I’ve thought about this? If I were a lesser man, my thoughts of you might have forced me to just ask you out directly. But isn’t this better?” It’s unclear whether he’s complimenting you or himself…or maybe a warped version of both, but either way all you can do is look up at him, your thighs squeezing together. Tracing a path down to the top of your suit, he gives the small zip a soft tug before pulling away.

“Won’t you show me more? You can even keep that silly mask on if it makes you feel better.” He prompts, clearly staring at your body and making no attempt to hide it. “I’ll be inclined to reward you if you do.”

This is it. There’s no going back from this, and you both know it. Stripping for a criminal, it would ruin your credibility, your morals, everything. And he’s getting off on it.

“Come on pretty girl…it’s just me and you. How it should be, how it ought to be. Nobody can challenge you like I can.” He goads you, his fingers stroking your cheek. “When’s the last time a man has touched you hm? Or even a woman?”

You’re clearly embarrassed to admit the truth, that with your life suddenly shifting to being a crime fighter you haven’t exactly had time to go on dates, but you can see he wants to hear you. “It’s been a while…”

“Oh I can tell…such a shame.” He smirks, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “So beautiful, and so intelligent. You’re wasted on the fools of this city.”

You’re sure your breathing is audible now, your mind slightly hazy as you listen to his words. Just once…can’t hurt, can it? You can lie…tell Nightwing you were kidnapped but fought your way out. Nobody would know. Apart from him.

“But you won’t be wasted on me. I deserve you sweetheart. You know it.”

He deserves you. You’re beautiful and he deserves you. You start to unzip your suit, shrugging out of it before you can even comprehend what you’re doing. He deserves you.

“Good…good girl. That’s it.”

While great for stealth and combat, you curse yourself at the complexities of your suit as you strip in not the most elegant way. Although it doesn’t look like he minds, his eyes drinking in the feast that is your body. You end up stripping into your simple bra and underwear, to which he hums in satisfaction.

“Aren’t you a picture, I knew you would be.” He praises, although he doesn’t move from the chair. You blush as you can guess what he wants, eyeing the bulge straining against his suit trousers.

“Now I want you to touch yourself.”

The bluntness of his request was certainly not what you were expecting as your eyes snap up to meet his.

“What?”

“You heard me doll. I want you to touch yourself. The way you do at night, when it’s just you. Don’t be shy.”

“Easy for you to say...” you mumble quietly, causing him to smirk. Somehow the thought of giving him a blowjob was less embarrassing than pleasuring yourself between his legs.

“Alright you make a fair point. Here.” He starts to unbuckle his belt, gently placing it on top of his gloves before unbuttoning his trousers. “Start touching, and you’ll see more.”

You nod slowly, reaching down to your underwear and gently feeling how wet you are. His eyes narrow slightly as he watches, before looking at your face again.

“Tell me, have you thought about me? In general…when you weren’t solving my riddles?”

“Yes…” you breathe gently, before you can stop yourself.

“When did you start?”

“After you…started to address me in your puzzles.”

“Ah…” he laughs a little, deep and throaty. “Did you like the flowers darling? They were expensive.”

Your fingers rub circles over your clothed clit, nodding a little. “That night was when I first went home and researched you properly…”

It was true, Nightwing had given you intel on all the major players of the Gotham underworld when he first started training you. You were familiar with The Riddler, but that night was different. You could almost hear his voice when you read his riddles back, hear the taunts and the condescension.

“What did you find?” he murmurs, stroking your jaw.

“Watched a video…when you hacked GCN Central and broadcasted from their studio.”

Edward smirks, remembering the day well. “Oh? And did you like it? What I did? Did it excite you?”

You whimper in pleasure and embarrassment because he was right. You did. You can’t forget how your face felt like it was burning when he was mocking them, his voice cascading down your spine and causing your body to react.

“Yes…I liked it. I liked how in control you were.” The words spill out of your mouth before you can register what you’re admitting to, but Edward looks like he’s on cloud nine.

“Oh you filthy girl, did it make you wet? Seeing how scared they were? The people you fight every night to protect?” he taunts, but the slight breathlessness of his tone portrays just how much this is all affecting him too. You nod, ashamed and oh so aroused as your fingers dip inside your underwear, the throbbing of your clit nearly unbearable.

“That night I thought about you too.” He states, his eyes drawn to your pleasure. “Thought about what it might look like to have you all to myself. Thought about tying you up, seeing how much pleasure you could take before you cracked. Seeing how many of my riddles your mind could take before you begged for me.”

His words only further fuel the fire of your desperation, your fingers speeding up. Small moans escape your lips, your mind foggy as the only light that cuts through is him, his voice, his small touches. In response he lets out a quiet groan, his hand tugging at your hair again.

“You’ve been on my mind for so long, so much of my mental energy has been wasted on these fantasies with you. You’ve nearly ruined me.” He snarls, like it’s your fault. But it only makes you whine louder, your fingers bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

His eyes are like a hawk, not missing the way you’re trembling, the way your breath is coming out sharper, so he suddenly speaks. “Stop. Don’t you dare cum yet.”

The pitiful sound that escapes your mouth sounds foreign to your own ears, as he pulls at your arm to ensure you can’t pleasure yourself anymore. “It was a cute show doll, but when you cum you’ll be damn sure I’m the one doing it to you.”

You nod, as he finally frees himself from his trousers to relieve the pressure as you gaze down at him. Slightly above average, but it could have been three inches smaller for all you care, the need for him overwhelming. He smirks down at you, pumping himself a few times as you watch.

“On the sofa.” He demands, and you’re quick to comply. Not that he really lets you, as he manhandles you quickly so you’re bent over for him, pulling your underwear down sharply. “God you’re drenched. Who knew Gotham’s newest vigilante sweetheart was such a slut for criminals.”

“Just you…” you say without thinking, which causes the groan that escapes him to sound almost like a whine.

“Just me doll, that’s right. Nobody else can get you like this…nobody.”

He can’t resist plunging his fingers inside you, feeling your warmth around his digits as he moves them deliberately. Pushing your head against the cushions, you moan to muffle the sound before he pulls your head back by your hair yet again.

“Oh no no no… I didn’t go through all the trouble of helping you, of showing off all my goddamn brilliance for you, just so you could hide your pretty noises from me.”

His tone leaves little room for argument as you shiver and moan for him. Eventually it’s clear he just can’t take it anymore, pulling his fingers out and starting to position himself at your entrance. He taps at it, catching your clit deliberately.

“Ask me nicely…tell me I’m what you want.” He demands, but it almost sounds like a plea. Either way you’re helpless against him.

“Please…I need you. I want you; I only want you.” You beg, and finally he does what he’s been wanting, what you’ve been wanting for months. He pushes into you, savouring every second as he takes you for himself. You both moan, his hands gripping at your hips, your waist, your ass, almost like he’s overwhelmed with having you. He doesn’t waste anytime once he’s sure you’re adjusted, pulling back and snapping his hips forward.

“God look at you…moaning like this for a criminal. You like it? Like The Riddler fucking you sweetheart?” he taunts, his mouth seemingly not being able to stop running even as he fucks his desperation into you. Still, you nod and breathlessly tell him what he wants to hear, causing his grip on your hips to tighten.

“That’s right, of course you do. It’s a privilege to have me fuck you, have me be interested in you. I could have just taken you out.” He threatens, but it’s hard for him to sound as dangerous as you know deep down he is when the breath is being punched out of him with every thrust. “But who else can I…fuck…can I mentally challenge, and then fuck them like my own goddamn pet?”

You swear your eyes almost cross as he rails you. It’s everything you need from him; sharp, desperate and unbelievably pleasurable. He unhooks your bra, placing it by your side as he grabs at your tits; the action eliciting a sharp gasp from you. His thumbs circle your nipples, slightly clumsily from the pace he’s maintaining with his hips. Clawing at the sofa, you grip on to anything to keep you stable. Any doubts or second thoughts in your mind are being fucked away with every punishing thrust inside you.

“So pretty…thought a girl who looks like you would have nothing going on upstairs. Although I suppose right now you don’t.” he laughs before groaning as you tighten around him. He grabs your throat and pulls you so your back arches and he can look down at your face. “Bet I’m fucking you dumb, aren’t I doll?”

You make a noise that almost sounds like a yes, but Edward wasn’t looking for a straight answer anyway. He knows he is, can see the vacant and dazed look in your eyes as he continues to ravage you with everything he has. Eventually he growls and pulls out.

“Turn over sweetheart, need to see you.” He says, and who are you to deny him. Once you’re on your back he pushes in again roughly, placing a pillow underneath your hips. He starts thrusting at the same pace as before, placing your legs on his shoulders as he tests your flexibility.

“That’s it, taking me so well. Knew you would, knew you wouldn’t disappoint me.” He states, his hands groping at your chest again before one comes up to grasp your neck. He doesn’t apply pressure, just keeps you looking at him. “Such a sight, you’re a vision like this.”

You whimper and look at his lips, and luckily, he gets the hint. Lips collide frantically, his tongue completely dominating your mouth in a messy kiss. Saliva connects both of you as he pulls away, but neither of you seem to care, going in for seconds. You bite at his bottom lip softly, causing him to groan and snap his hips harder against you, your cry satisfying him as he pulls back to look at you.

Your fingers grip tight onto his shoulder, before frantically pulling at his tie. Luckily he gets the hint, pulling at the fabric and shrugging off his jacket. Despite his pace he still manages to somewhat neatly place them on the floor, before you hastily unbutton his shirt. Dragging your nails down his exposed chest causes his body to shiver, a soft noise escaping his throat as he grabs your wrists and pins them down.

His hand leaves them to trail up to your cheek, his finger brushing against your mask. Every rational thought still left in your head is screaming at you not to do it, but you’re already in this deep. So with a moan, you reach up and unclip your mask, letting it fall to the side. It’s not like you’re anyone famous, just a waitress trying to do some good in the world. At least that’s what you were doing, before you let a supervillain rearrange your insides.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes looking at your face in its full glory as his pace slows. Finally, he utters one simple word.

“Beautiful.”

Those three syllables make you feel more pleasure than all of your exes combined, the tone of his voice causing your pussy to throb as your hips twitch. He grits his teeth as he feels you, fucking you harder again as his fingers quickly rub at your clit.

“Need you to cum around me…think you can give me that? Give me your gratitude for helping you?” he murmurs, smirking as you nod eagerly. You know it won’t be long, his pace even and punishing inside you. “Yeah I know you can doll, I know you can cum for me. Do it.”

After a minute longer, you scratch at his shoulders as you feel yourself let go, finishing the hardest you have in your entire life. Your orgasm almost knocks you out, eyes squeezed closed as the noises stream from your throat like running water. The tightening and pain from your nails cause havoc for Edward’s self-control, a few moments later pulling out and pumping himself before spilling over your stomach. You both catch your breath, the intensity of your encounter something neither one of you expected to be quite so strong. After a few moments, he gently strokes your cheek.

“So lovely, all for me.”

You can’t even deny that the possessiveness of his tone doesn’t make your chest feel fuzzy, gazing up at him. For a moment you don’t see The Riddler, the man who terrorises Gotham, you just see Edward. Although that thought flies away when his fingers dip down between your thighs, feeling your juices and playing with you. You whimper, slightly overstimulated as he smirks.

“No no, don’t run away from me.” He says lowly, gripping your hip with his other hand to keep you still and stop you squirming. “I know you can give me another one doll.”

Your cunt makes embarrassingly wet sounds as he plays with you, stroking your clit before pushing his fingers inside you again. You gasp and grasp at his arms, causing him to pull out for a moment to manoeuvre you. Laying with your back against his chest, he plays your body like an instrument, groping at your chest before going back between your thighs. One hand digs his nails into the meat of your thigh as the other sinks two fingers deep inside and curls them.              

“There we go, good girl. Just moan for me, let me turn off that brain of yours completely. I’ll do the thinking for us both.”

His breath tickles your ear as you writhe against him, whimpering as you feel not just his fingers inside of you but his cum drying on your stomach. You can feel his grin as he collects his cum on his fingers, before tapping your bottom lip. Obediently you part your lips, letting him press his digits on your tongue, tasting him.

“You’re so good, better than all my fantasies combined.” He whispers, his fingers speeding up inside you, your thighs shaking. Moving his one hand to your tits, he gently pinches just to watch you squirm more. You can’t control the sounds pouring out of your mouth, your hips chasing the pleasure he’s giving you. After everything, it isn’t long before you feel another orgasm creeping up on you, your walls tightening.

“That’s right, cum again for me. Let a criminal make a mess of you.” He taunts before gently sucking on a spot below your ear. It only takes a few moments more before you’re cumming again, crying out his name as your back arches. He doesn’t stop until you’re twitching, pulling his fingers out slowly before licking them clean himself. You feel boneless, sinking back against him as the tension leaves every fibre of your body.

“Aren’t you something. If I wasn’t so spent from before I might have felt inclined to take you again.” He says, his hands stroking up and down your arms. “Did you enjoy yourself sweetheart?”

The way he speaks, his soft tone makes you forget about the circumstances behind what you two had just done. All you can do is nod softly, basking in the afterglow of the two best orgasms of your life. You’re not sure how long you lie against him, but your eyes start to flutter closed. He laughs softly and strokes your cheek.

“When’s the last time you actually slept through the night?” he asks, to which he laughs again at your dissatisfied noise. “Just sleep sweetheart.”

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” Nightwing says, holding your arm as he looks at you. “Couldn’t connect to your earpiece, when I found it on the floor I assumed the bastard got you.”

You quickly shake your head, trying to reassure him. “It’s nothing, don’t worry. He got the drop on me, but I managed to get away.” Technically not a lie, although you had to wait until nightfall after you woke up lest someone see Gotham’s newest vigilante leaving an apartment fully suited up in the middle of the day.

“Good.” He murmurs angrily, “I don’t want you doing anything like that again without backup. Don’t argue.”

You sigh as he interrupts before you could protest, before his stupid smile comes back on his face. “He flirt with you again?”

Your expression falters, which causes a cheeky laugh to escape him. “As if he even has a chance.”

“You have no idea.” You reply with a small laugh.

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Hope you enjoyed it x

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

you think kankri and cronus

like all the dancestors, kankri and cronus mirror their counterparts (and as we all know, karkat and eridan are soul mates), but the brief interaction we do see of them makes them seem pretty toxic for each other. i think it's funny for that reason though!

Karkat and Kankri both love going on long, endless rants and walls of text, but where Karkat fills his spiels with self-loathing, Kankri fills his with incredible smugness and self-satisfaction (often calling his spiels "sermons" or "lectures" before catching himself and correcting them to "discussions" or "conversations," which have a less one-sided "i'm right and you're wrong" connotation). Moreover, where Karkat loves all his friends, and masks that under disdainful insults and screaming obscenities, Kankri tends to hold his friends in contempt, masking that under kind language and politeness.

KANKRI: And really, it's every9ne's 6usiness t9 examine their privilege, even 6urgundies, wh9 may 6e su6ject t9 the pitfall 9f 6elieving inc9rrectly there are n9ne 9n the scale 6eneath them wh9m they enj9y certain privileges 9ver, which 9ff-spectrum tr9lls will never kn9w, such as th9se identifying as 9ther6l99ds 9r caste-multiples, "p9ly6l99ded", any wh9 hem9gl96ically ID as having a caste which manifests n9where (as yet kn9wn) in any9ne physically, 9r f9r that matter 9ffspecs wh9 physically d9 p9ssess such a 6l99d type, 9r "mutants" (VERY pr96lematic term, highly triggering t9 s9me, 6e warned), such as y9u and I, Karkat.

Translation: lowbloods think they have it SO HARD, try being a mutant 🙄

KANKRI: I just think there is inherent danger in muddying the waters 9f disc9urse 6y intr9ducing s9cial issues which are suspect at 6est, thus c9nsuming crucial res9urces fr9m the limited cache 9f rhet9ric which pr9pels these narratives. And furtherm9re, 9ne c9uld argue it's m9re than a little pr96lematic, 9ffensive even, f9r y9u t9 6e appr9priating the lexic9n 9f sensitivity used t9 advance awareness 9f maj9r issues, thus reducing it t9 the level 6uzzspeak and pseud9science. It makes it m9re difficult f9r th9se 9f us wh9 are genuinely f9cused 9n p9sitive change t9 6e taken seri9usly, that's all. PORRIM: Appro+priating?? #That's no+t #what that even #means? PORRIM: PSEUDOSCIENCE??? #Yo+u did no+t just… KANKRI: I'm s9rry, I just d9n't think there's much there. We aren't like humans, wh9se species 6izarrely en9ugh includes highly specialized r9les f9r 69th sexes in the pr9cess 9f repr9ducti9n, and s9 this naturally had s9cial ramificati9ns f9r the way their civilizati9n ev9lved. 6ut that's n9t h9w it w9rks f9r us, s9 I fail t9 see h9w gender fact9rs int9 the discussi9n in a way that can 6e effectively and rati9nally pr96lematized. Where is the r99m f9r unexamined privilege in the dich9t9my? I d9n't see it. And appr9priating the talking p9ints and awareness-raising tactics f9r du6i9us issues like this is, frankly, fr9wned up9n, t9 put it p9litely. Such appr9priative gestures 9nly serve t9 marginalize and invalidate th9se su6ject t9 seri9us, real life struggles and 9ppressi9n, and I guess I'm a little disapp9inted t9 see y9u 6eing s9 6lithely and inappr9priately appr9priat9ry. #Fr9wned up9n #Fr9wns all ar9und #Welc9me t9 fr9wn t9wn PORRIM: Kanny, I'm starting to+ feel just a little bit triggered by all this "appro+priatio+n" bullshit. #Trigger warning: #Abo+ut to+ kick yo+ur tall pantsed ass KANKRI: 9h! My sincere ap9l9gies. I sh9uld have d9ne a 6etter j96 tagging my statements, 6ut f9r future reference, it's helpful t9 alert y9ur c9nversati9nal partners t9 y9ur triggers well in advance. Sh9uld I g9 fetch y9ur m9irail t9 help settle y9u d9wn? And if s9, wh9 exactly w9uld 6e filling that quadrant t9day? #It's the may9r, right? #G9tta 6e the may9r

Translation: Stop trying to steal my spotlight by bringing up your own social justice pursuits. Shut the fuck up. Oh, are you offended? Maybe you should go cry to your moirail. Slut. God I hate women.

KANKRI: 9n the 9ther hand, if I'm 6eing h9nest, I've f9und Mituna's entire existence t9 6e a pretty pr96lematic impediment t9 the advancement and 9verall awareness 9f a6leism and its painful manif9ld c9nsequences f9r una6ilitied pers9ns. The speech impediment, frankly, I c9uld d9 with9ut, and I'm 6y n9 means ecstatic 9ver his t9rrential 6ig9try and h9stility. 9n the 9ne hand, I want t9 6e sensitive t9 him as a pers9n and as a friend, 6ut 9n the 9ther, what kind 9f message d9es his 6ehavi9r send? And frankly, I'm n9t crazy a69ut the helmet, either. MITUNA: W4LT5 WR00NG W17H MY H4ML37 8( KANKRI: N9thing, friend, it's a really c99l helmet and it's a g99d l99k f9r y9u. 6ut are we n9w t9 assume that all th9se wh9 are stricken with y9ur particular disadvantage9n will 6e similarly pr9ne t9 require such headgear, due t9 falling d9wn and hitting their heads frequently? MITUNA: 8U7H 1 D0 F4LL D0WN 4ND H157 MY H34D FR3QUN3UN74NY KANKRI: 9h, I kn9w y9u d9, and I think y9u sh9uld c9ntinue wearing it f9r y9ur safety, particularly if y9u c9ntinue t9 insist 9n fl9undering a69ut 9n y9ur danger9us t9y. It's m9re a69ut the unf9rtunate message y9u are sending 9verall, with certain aspects 9f y9ur pers9nality and existence, that's all. MITUNA: 1M 50RRY KANKRI: As a friend, I w9uldn't want t9 change anything a69ut y9u, well, n9t m9st things. I just think y9u may n9t 6e d9ing y9urself 9r th9se wh9 are similarly disadvantaged any fav9rs with, what I'm h9ping, is a perfectly inn9cent array 9f traits and mannerisms. 8ut again, I say this with all due sensitivity. MEENAH: vantas youre being a shit dont talk about him like that

Translation: Mituna, you're such a goddamn embarrassment, I wish everything about you was completely different.

The big difference between Beforus and Alternia is also the definition of "culling," which on one meant killing and the other meant coddling. Naturally, this is its own form of oppression, as the longer-lived highbloods still hold great power over the lives and fates of those deemed cull-worthy, which includes a lot of lowbloods, and definitely mutants like Kankri who didn't have a lusus. However, it creates a different kind of mindset from that of more standard abuse, like what Karkat suffered for his off-spectrum nature - where Karkat spent every day fearing for his life and cursing himself:

Your name is KARKAT VANTAS. As was previously mentioned, it is your WRIGGLING DAY, which is barely even worth mentioning. It is an anniversary, if anything, to lament the faults of your existence, of which there are assuredly plenty.

Kankri was experiencing the opposite: being told that his mutation made him exceptional, made him special, made him MORE worthy of attention and praise than other people. At the same time, his agency was taken away from him, but the thing is, being 13 when he started the game, I don't necessarily think he'd have missed that - around the age of 13 is when kids START to crave agency, and he got it by playing the game. Kankri's dialogue suggests to me that he genuinely believes in his superiority to the people around him, more in line with being spoilt.

This is why, although he talks a big game about how bad casteism is, and how you shouldn't say slurs because they're offensive, he still unironically uses the term "Royal-V" to refer to violet bloods and chastises Mituna for calling Meenah a wader, which is an anti-seadweller (and anti-seadweller apologist) insult. Sure, he acknowledges within that chastisement that because Meenah and Royal-V's DO have privilege, the weight of the insult is not exactly the same, but then he follows up by saying that he wishes everything about Mituna was different, to the point MEENAH feels the need to defend him.

This is because Kankri is a fucking wader.

If you'll notice, he's actually quite agreeable and sympathetic to Meenah (despite Meenah being a confirmed bully, especially to the team rustblood):

KANKRI: Wh9a, Meenah. I didn't see y9u c9me in. Y9u sh9uld have c9me say hell9. ... KANKRI: I've als9 heard y9u're recruiting mem6ers f9r a militia? An9ther 69ld endeav9r. N9t surprising, th9ugh. 6ef9re y9u em6ark, I d9 h9pe y9u'll set aside at least several sweeps t9 listen t9 s9me 9f my…

KANKRI: And Meenah, while I can understand y9ur frustrati9n 9ver 6eing ver6ally assaulted under any circumstance, it is incum6ent 9n me t9 remind y9u that Mituna requires a certain am9unt 9f special c9nsiderati9n and m9re than a little patience. Please try t9 resist taking his 6ait, which I'm guessing is m9stly well intended(?), 6ef9re its c9ntenti9us undert9w pulls y9u further int9 an exchange laden with deeply pr96lematic expressi9ns 9f a6leism, a6leist slurs, and 9ther such manifestati9ns 9f unc9nsci9na6ly unchecked a6ility privilege.  #a6leism #a6ility privilege #6ait #undert9w #are the aquatic terms helping?

... And he's nice to Cronus. I just don't think it's a coincidence that Kankri is super mean and shitty to land dwellers, while being super kind to the two sea dwellers on the team, the caste he was presumably culled (raised) by - to the point of emulating their aquatic terms to try and ingratiate himself to them (something Karkat thinks is stupid and cringe.).

KARKAT: (not really.) #SHELLF IMPORTANT ABALONEY? #GODDAMN SEADWELLERS

And that brings us to Cronus. Now, I've written extensively about how Eridan is not actually casteist, but the TL;DR is that Eridan genuinely doesn't treat people differently based on their caste, but it's societally expected of him and he has an overwhelming amount of anxiety about living up to those expectations, so he will say a lot of slurs. He and Feferi are actually the only two highbloods that never say anything disparaging about Karkat's blood color.

In contrast, Cronus is a casteist; where Eridan tries to play up how casteist he is while secretly not being so, Cronus does the opposite and tries to play down how casteist he is while secretly being so.

CRONUS: nowv, please don't tell anyone i said so, but you and i both knowv pretty much all these people should feel honored to go out vwith a guy like me. CRONUS: vwhat being royalty and all, and not evwen slightly put off by dating dowvn on the spectrum. i mean, really, howv much more evwident can i make it to evweryone that im really a cool, progressivwe, easy going dude, vwho doesnt take the social order seriously or buy into any of the stereotypes? first of all, as if the hemospectrum scene isnt 8EYOND played out. #you should be sticking your fork in THAT CRONUS: i barely EVWER evwen bring up my high social status. it couldnt be LESS of a big deal to me, but i think people maybe are still intimidated by it? theyre probably putting me on a pedestal, in spite of all my easy going assurances that my royal lineage is something i nevwer evwen think about. like, no friend, i am just like you. vwe laugh at the same jokes, listen to, vwell, to some extent, the same music… #i at least USED to listen to music you like #does that count? CRONUS: all these cats and kittens, im telling you. theyre alvways drawvn to the freaks and rejects. you havwe to be 8ROKEN in some vway to get a little concupiscent attention. #cats #kittens #freaks #rejects #broken

You got a whole bunch of SEA DWELLER BLING! It's pretty obvious this all belongs to Cronus over there. He's just not wearing it right now so he can convince everyone he doesn't feel like his royalty status is a big deal, even though he does.

Moreover, we get a direct parallel to Eridan's final conversation between him, Feferi, and Sollux, with the interaction Cronus has with Meenah and Mituna - in both cases, the violet-blood has a crush on their fuchsia, while probably having some sort of blackrom thing with the mustard (ashen for Eridan, pitch for Cronus). The differences really highlight how different the two are.

First, Eridan doesn't actually mean all the casteist things he says to Sollux - we know this because he's actually mentioned Sollux twice before, and both times, felt no need to comment on Sollux's lowblood status at all. Eridan is so transparently full of shit that even his own teammates don't think he's actually being casteist, and instead take it as ashenflirting:

ERIDAN: hey finless this doesnt concern those wwith mustard sludge slippin through their vveins ERIDAN: its a matter for royalty only ERIDAN: so keep your mouth closed or ill slit you open ovver my next meal SOLLUX: w/e bro, not iintere2ted. FEFERI: -Eridan, please! I don't want to see any more dueling. FEFERI: Don't try to provoke )(im. It's not like I don't know w)( you're doing! You keep trying to spark a rivalry wit)( )(im to get me to auspiticize between you two, and pull us out of your quadrant! FEFERI: It is t)(e oldest and lamest trick in t)(e book. It didn't work t)(en and it won't work now!

But while Eridan leads with casteism he doesn't mean, after being rejected by his fuchsia blood, Cronus rounds on Mituna to vent his frustration, revealing HIS real feelings:

CRONUS: i said shut up. do you havwe any idea vwhat a man of my class vwould do if a mustard blood like you spoke to me this vway on alternia? honestly, sometimes i think i vwas hatched in the vwrong univwerse, let ALONE the vwrong body. CRONUS: i am so sick of havwing to pretend to treat you vwith the dignity you vwouldnt deservwe evwen if you COULD count the scars on my forehead. you couldnt tell me the ansvwer if i asked vwhat your favworite number vwas. ... CRONUS: you are a brain damaged reject on a team full of rejects. a rejects reject. i vwould havwe culled you myself if that vword meant vwhat it should havwe on our planet.

Moreover, Eridan is genuinely wracked with emotional anguish basically 24/7, but he refuses to allow anyone else to provide him with emotional support, lashing out at Feferi when she insinuates that she's been taking care of him up to that point.

CC: I can’t look after you anymore. CA: I DIDNT EVER NEED ANYONE TO LOOK AFTER ME CA: i was totally fuckin fine my ambitions were noble

On the other hand, Cronus outright admits that his constant talk of being a "sensitivwe soul" is bullshit he uses to attract the ladies:

MITUNA: 1M 50RRY CRONUS: no youre not. youre lying. CRONUS: your vwhole bifurcated demeanor is such an act. half the time you are noxious and incomprehensible, and the other half you are mild and contrite? sure, "PAL." CRONUS: as if im not SO on to you. you only pretend to say youre sorry to get girls to like you more. sure seems like pyropes a sucker for the ruse. like im not familiar vwith THOSE tactics. vwho do you think vwrote the book on that??

CRONUS: guess ill attempt ghost suicide YET AGAIN. CRONUS: of course by vwhich i mean, tell people i did, to vwin sympathy points. MITUNA: D0357H H47 W0RK CRONUS: not really.

This isn't to say that Cronus doesn't have legitimate emotional issues - just that they aren't the ones he says that they are. When Aranea is expositing on Cronus to Meenah, she winds up explaining that Cronus used to believe in a prophecy where he was Harry Potter and LE was Voldemort, and that it was his destiny to destroy this evil wizard, but that his team basically bullied that belief out of him:

ARANEA: The 8ard of Hope may seem a little jaded these days, 8ut he once had a deeply a8iding faith in magic, and dedicated himself to 8ecoming a great wizard. He 8ecame convinced he was hatched to defeat an extraordinarily evil magician, one he swore the angels foretold of. [...] I'm unsure why he suffered this crisis of faith, aside from the o8vious reasons having to do with an overall lack of character, or any other redeeming qualities. Perhaps someone talked him out of his 8eliefs. May8e a friend close to him. Or, if one is to 8elieve his fantasy held any water, perhaps someone who was in league with the evil magician. Whatever the case, it was pro8a8ly for the 8est, since pretty much everyone who had half a think pan thought it was all a 8unch of ridiculous nonsense.

Which, you know, given that he was their HOPE player, was probably a not-good thing that they did. Put a pin in this conversation, we'll return to it in a bit.

His humankin stuff is mostly treated as a joke, but it's also a symptom of this - we know that it's actually a portal to something Cronus genuinely feels bad about, because despite complaining about how you need to have something wrong with you to get concupiscent action, he's uncomfortable bringing it up to Meenah.

MEENAH: i heard a rumor you think youre a human now MEENAH: that true CRONUS: its a privwate matter. i dont see vwhy i should havwe to talk about it vwith you, and open myself up to more of your judgmental scorn.

He's a Hope player who lost what he believes in - so his actual emotional problems stem from directionlessness, exacerbated by the fact that he's generally untalented, feels entitled due to his high caste and resentful that it's not being respected, and doesn't seem to have any real goals aside from sleeping with other people (and now he's dead). As a result, he's clung onto this idea that maybe the reason he feels so empty inside is because he's not actually a troll - not wanting to be himself, he tries to be something else.

So let's go back to the pin we put into Aranea talking about how he was talked out of his beliefs. Cronus very nearly reaches self-awareness about how being humankin is just a cover for his actual emotional problems... and then "a friend close to him" - maybe the only friend close to him that he has - talked him out of that epiphany.

KANKRI: Listen, I was d9ing y9u a fav9r. Y9u d9n't need t9 6e dating any9ne wh9 can't appreciate y9u f9r wh9 y9u really are, 9r m9re imp9rtantly, which fantasy versi9n 9f y9urself y9u m9st str9ngly identify with. CRONUS: yeah, youre probably right. she doesnt appreciate me. so fevw of you cats do, really. #evwen the ones vwho literally identify as cats CRONUS: to be honest, she might be right. sometimes i think i might only be saying im a human to get attention. maybe i should givwe it up. KANKRI: I'd 6e extremely disapp9inted t9 hear that, if it were true. That w9uld 6e such a slap in the face t9 all th9se wh9 kn9w themselves t9 6e an alien while trapped in the pedestrian 69dy 9f their 9wn race. It w9uld 6e unspeaka6ly invalidating 9f their struggles and massively triggering t9 their em9ti9ns. #TW #invalidated struggles #triggered em9ti9ns KANKRI: 6ut f9rtunately, I kn9w y9u w9uld never st99p as l9w as that. Y9u understanda6ly have d9u6ts a69ut y9ur feelings and pr96a6ly d9wnplay them as a defense mechanism, since s9 few are prepared t9 rec9gnize the legitimacy 9f y9ur plight. 6ut I am, and I just wanted y9u t9 kn9w that I'm here f9r y9u, and am prepared t9 lecture t9 y9u extensively, I mean, listen t9 y9u extensively, a69ut y9ur ultra-imp9rtant pr96lem. CRONUS: vwowv. thanks, pal. CRONUS: youre right. my feelings really are real. not fake, like the huge disappointing fraud that magic turned out to be. CRONUS: i guess the truth is, deep dowvn i alvways knewv i vwas a 1950s-style human greaser. CRONUS: i just needed to finally be introduced to human culture to make sense of those feelings. KANKRI: W9nderful. I'm s9 happy y9u have f9und the light 9f truth within y9urself. N9w j9in me in tagging 9ur discussi9n with righte9us warnings, as we c9nsecrate y9ur disadvantage in the h9ly annals 9f Pr96lematics.

She also mentions it might have been someone "in league with the evil wizard," which would indicate Damara or Kurloz, but he never mentions Damara even once, and he actually seems to be on neutral terms with Kurloz:

and i vwouldnt dare to intrude on your longstanding moirallegiance vwith kurloz, and not because he scares the shit out of me either. that just really seems to vwork, you and him, doesnt it? i dont get a peep out of him of course, not evwen if im super nice and compliment his hideous hair[.]

So since we literally see Kankri exacerbating Cronus's problem by not only insisting that he not introspect, but expresses that he would be extremely disappointed in Cronus if Cronus did, I'm inclined to believe that the one who talked the Hope player into giving up his Hope beliefs was Kankri.

So what I'm saying is, if Karkat and Eridan are beautiful soul mates who make each other better in basically every way, Kankri and Cronus are incredibly toxic for each other and are in desperate need of a fucking auspice. Somebody please middle leaf these two, they cannot be left alone. Kankri's wader tendencies validate Cronus's entitlement and stagnation, and Kankri loves manipulating Cronus into believing whatever BS Kankri is espousing, because that's how Kankri gets his validation.

Kankri and Cronus means love loses.

Thank you for reading.

[gomjabbar]

mattel seeing barbie's success and going all-in on a "cinematic universe" is such a comical morbius-level misunderstanding of why that movie did well. barbie has a long & contentious place in our culture where it's oscillated back and forth, from the "ideal" american woman, to a vapid & toxic female beauty standard, back to something newer generations have an ironic reverence for. love or hate it, you have entire swathes of women who embrace the whole "bimbo barbie" aesthetic and view it through the lens of "women can do both" empowerment. the barbie movie was simply made by a competent director who understood the cultural cache and capitalized on it. that's why it's doing well. none of this shit fucking exists for hot wheels or polly pockets. hot wheels has never been part of a conversation around beauty standards & female empowerment. you don't see male sex workers posting "hot wheels-themed" photoshoots on their onlyfans. there is no greater cultural discussion to be had around any of these movies. mattel's rival hasbro has made bank on the transformers movies and they're still in financial dire straits now because all their other non-tformers movie ventures bombed. your hot wheels movie is going to crash like a toy car skipping off its orange track and hitting your friend in the dick. go die in hell.

[dez78]

A night of passion

-----------------------------------------

As requested by @ghoulspirits

Hope I captured the moment! Enjoy!

-------------------------------------

Fandom: Fallout 4

Pairings: Hancock x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+)

Additional Tags: Smut with plot, romantic Hancock, Public sex, massage leads to sexy time.

Summary: You and Hancock finally find time to have a break and things get heated quick.

-------------------------------------------

(Not my Gif)

You and Hancock headed into the Third Rail. The last few days have been hell, you have been retrieving caches and dead drops for the Railroad. You needed a break from the constant fighting, you yearned to just sit and have a beer.

"Hey Chuck, two beers." Hancock said as he leaned on the bar,

"Coming right up, mayor!" Charlie replied as he went over to the old, rusted out fridge.

You went to sit on the stool, but Hancock caught your wrist. You looked up at him with a perplexed expression on your weathered features.

"No, no, sweetheart. You and me got a reserved section in the VIP." Hancock said to you in a sensual tone. You quirked your eyebrow and smirked at him.

"Is that so?" You asked with a snarky tone and a mischievous glint in your eye.

"Hm mhm." Hancock hummed in response, he grabbed the two beers and whisked you away to the shadows of the VIP lounge, tucked away from the prying eyes.

-------------------------------------------------

Upon entering, Hancock handed you one of the beers. You took it and popped it open with your pipboy. You plopped down on the old, worn couch. The springs protested under yours and Hancock's weight.

The ghoul flipped his feet up, resting them on the ottoman, taking a swig of his beer. You sipped your own, relaxing finally. Your muscles were tense.

You felt all the pressure in your joints as you rolled your shoulders with a low groan and a furrowed brow.

"You alright, sweetheart?" Hancock questioned, looking over at you.

"Just sore from all that damn fighting and walking." You whined, rolling your neck.

"Well, I ain't no expert, but I can try to help." Hancock offered, you didn't respond verbally, only nodding your head.

Hancock sat up, he put his beer on the floor. You unzipped your vault suit, revealing your skin to your partner. Hancock bit back the moan as he saw your skin for the thousandth time. It didn't matter how many times he saw you; you still stole his breath.

His rough hand trailed down your smooth back, unclasping your bra with only two fingers. You sighed a long breath as you felt the freedom. Hancock watched his fingers mapping your skin and the details of it.

Then he gripped your shoulders, you groaned low, throwing your head back.

His palms and thumbs massaged in the right places. You felt the popping of your joints and the release of your muscle tensity. You were lost in the sensation that Hancock's voice sounded yards away.

When you came to, Hancock was laughing.

"Now come on, sunshine. You keep making those noises, I'll have to cut this short." He said as he growled low, his breath on your neck. You bit your lip; your cheeks were flushed a bright pink.

"Would that be such a horrible thing?" You questioned innocently.

"I would certainly take you up on that offer." Hancock replied, still massaging your neck and shoulders. You turned then, catching Hancock's breath. He bit his lip as his coal eyes were fixed on yours.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous." He said stunned, admiring every detail of your face in the dim light. You were surprised, the first thing he didn't look at were your breasts, instead he fawned over your face, your eyes, your lips.

You smiled to yourself; he had his charm, but sometimes he was about more than sex. Only for you. You weren't an object or a one-night stand that meant nothing. You were his equal, his partner, you were his and he was yours.

Hancock cupped your jaw, you leaned into his touch, kissing his palm. He hummed with contentment. He pulled you in and captured your lips in a tender kiss. He ran his other hand up your body, feeling every inch of your stomach before finally cupping one of your breasts in his large hand.

He gave you a gentle squeeze, you moaned into his mouth and that was his invitation. He dipped his tongue into your mouth. You let him in with no hesitation, your lips danced with each other in a smooth rhythm.

------------------------------------------

It wasn't long before things got hot and heavy, Hancock had torn off your vault suit and his own clothes. He held you up by your waist as he laid on top of you, leaving a trail of love bites across your neck and breasts. His fingers were graceful as he smoothed up your back.

He drove powerful thrusts into you, you were glistening with beads of sweat and were a mess of sound. It was music to Hancock's ears.

"That's right, baby girl. Let them know who you belong to." He rasped through thrusts. You cried out, arching your back. Hancock kept you steadied as your body convulsed for the fourth time that night.

Hancock leaned down, kissing your jawline as he slowed to an even pace. Giving you time to recover. He kissed your neck tenderly as he pushed into you slowly.

"You like that, sweetheart?" Hancock purred into your ear; you nodded slowly enjoying the feeling of him filling you up with his immensity.

"You're such a good girl for taking it all." Hancock praised you, you shuddered with delight as his voice rumbled against your sensitive skin. He kissed your lips with a tenderness he only had for you.

You usually liked it the way he gave it, but sometimes you wanted slow, and he provided and proved to be an excellent lover in both times. It all depended on you. He respected your feelings. He never did anything you were against. He always made sure you were okay and if you liked what he was doing. If not, then he'd stop.

He was never rough unless you wanted it. You loved that about him, he gave you options and freedom with your love life.

"You ready, love? Or do you want this some more?" Hancock asked you, kissing your neck gently.

"I want it rough." You growled, Hancock got that mischievous glint in his eye and gave you a devilish grin.

He sat up.

"Spread your legs for me, baby." He commanded, you opened your legs for him, and he devoured you. You threw your head back, screaming in bliss. Your thighs quivered. He was hitting your sweet spot. Your hair was falling over your face, wet from sweat.

Beads trickled down the curve of your breast, your lips were swollen, your body glistened, and your eyes sparkled. You were beautiful. It sent Hancock over the edge. You arched your back, contracting around your lover. Your whole body shook.

"Fuck." Hancock breathed with a hoarse laugh. You laid there for a moment, catching your breath. Hancock smiled, drawing circles on your stomach.

"Enjoy, sweetheart?" He smirked; your eyes were half lidded as you looked at him.

"What do you think?" You quipped with a tired smile. Hancock didn't say anything, just gave you his own genuine smile. You loved how he wore it. It suited him. You were the only one to ever see his true smile. He faked it for others, but he put all his trust in you.

You felt lucky to know him, the true him. Not the show ghoul that he put on for everyone else. The facade. You grabbed his face and pulled him on top of you. He rolled his tongue at you,

"Round two already?" He teased; you shook your head.

"No, just kiss me." You told him, he looked a bit surprised, but didn't protest to the request. He leaned down. He wrapped his arms around your waist, his lips against yours.

The kiss was sweet, not heavy and hot like it was moments ago. This one was tender, gentle, and full of love. Hancock poured his all his feelings into his kisses. This time was no different.

The two of you pulled away for only, but a moment. In that time, your eyes met. You saw the sincerity in Hancock's expression.

"I love you, sunshine." He said, brushing strands of hair from your sticky forehead, you smiled up at him.

"I love you too, John." You replied lovingly. Hancock's smile was bright, he loved his name on your lips, it was a beautiful sound, even more beautiful than your moans, he admitted.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours again, savoring the kiss. Savoring the moment. It was perfect, you were perfect.

[bunnyreaper]

guy fawkes/bonfire night with the 141

(mild nsfw/18+, mostly fluffy though)

as the resident demolitions expert, you best believe johnny has that shit on lock. he refuses to go to an organised display because he just knows he can do way better. his job gives him the expertise and access to anything he might need (and ghost secretly helps him assemble anything else if they need to skirt the law just a lil)

he ends up with a massive cache of intricately rigged up fireworks all perfectly timed--johnny had been planning it on and off for half the year, working on preparing for all of october and pulling late nights leading up to november 5th.

he bonds/flirts with you by begging you to help him a little with the set up. of course you don't really know enough to help, but you hold things for him, give him encouragement and listen to his excited rambles after you make sure to ask questions to get him going.

when the big night finally comes, he's setting off remote detonators with glee, pulling you into his body as the two of you watch the display. you get lost watching the sparkle in his eyes--both his passion and the flurry of sparkling explosions.

the sex that night is even more frantic than usual, johnny filled with excitable energy after watching all the blasts.

simon is in charge of the bonfire and is very territorial about it. starts collecting huge amounts of wood early on and setting it all up in the field behind the barracks. the whole thing is stacked PERFECTLY, structurally sound as fuck and to go up in a barrage of flames.

he'd love to make "guys" to set up on the bonfire, leaning into his goofy side. some of them have masks just like him, some of them have printed out faces as your enemies, one of them has hastily sewn in features that look a LOT like soap... but simon swears it's just coincidence when the scot loses his mind looking at it.

he's happy you have to quietly tag along as he sets up, and occasionally indulges you in chat as the two of you carry piles of wood back and forth. of course he keeps jokes for the occasion in his back pocket.

on the night he lights the fire, steps back and admires his work as he hugs you from behind, cradling you as he rests his head on the top of yours and the two of you listen to the crackle of flames as they lick up the sides of the structure. as the night goes on, his hands start to wander over your body and his lips find their way to your neck, making you burn hotter than the fire did.

john is on general dad duty ensuring safety, but more importantly he's pn hot chocolate duty. his recipe is a special one (and yes there's a bit of whiskey in there of course) passed on from his mother and his grandmother.

he's insistent on everyone having a thermos filled with it, to keep you warm and to enjoy the start of winter properly. of course while handing out the flasks he tells stories of bonfires he saw as a kid.

he invited you along with him while he worked in the kitchen, allowing you to be the only one to know about his secret addition to the drink (you'd giggled and encouraged him to add more, as well as making him do a shot as he prepared the other drinks).

the two of you had a blast shoving the whipped cream can into the thermos to fill it up with the topping--and price had definitely squirted some on your face.

he also put you in one if his oversized jackets, wrapped a scarf around you and made sure you were covered in layers of clothes and hats and gloves. he didnt want you getting cold even for a split second. the coat smells just like him as he leads you out into the field hand in hand, his other holding a bag with your hot chocolate filled thermos' in.

when you make it back to your room after all the festivities, he makes sure to warm you up properly, pinning you to the bed making you feel drunker than the whiskey-filled beverage did.

kyle takes point on setting up a cozy space for you all, but especially for you. he knows exactly what he has in mind to make the night just perfect for you. he sets up a little lean-to or two, lays down a picnic spread and fills it with all the warmest and comfiest blankets and cushions for you to lounge on. he strings dimmed fairy lights across the top, lays some lanterns around the outside and creates the most enchanting little set up imaginable.

he does it all because he knows it'll make your night, your month, your year. yes the guys will be there two but this is all for you, because he knows something so pretty and aesthetic and cozy will make your heart so happy.

he makes sure to help you snap photos of the comfy space, making sure the memory is never forgotten, but mentions that he has one final thing before you all get comfortable and wrapped up in the blankets.

he has a stack of sparklers waiting for you, as he knows they're one of your favourite parts of the occasion. two two of you take cute photos with the sparklers, with kyle showing you how to make the trail show up by giving the shot a long exposure time, of course the two of you draw hearts together.

later on when you're cuddled up, maybe his hand sneaks under the blanket and finds your clit, making sure you really see sparks.