#Coil Cutting Services

[tuskerchv]

Discover a wide range of high-quality steel products and services at Tusker CHV's Steel Service Center. Explore our inventory, including custom cutting and fabrication options, to meet all your project needs.

[alrama]

Industrial, Cleaning, Oil Field, Water treatment, Painting, Food, Mining, Construction, Power plant, Ceramic Chemicals Dubai, UAE | Coil cutting Service Dubai, UAE

The chemical industry in Dubai and the United Arab Emirates (UAE) is a vital component of the country's economy, as it is used in a wide range of industries such as construction, manufacturing, and oil and gas. The region is known for its high-quality chemicals, which are exported to various countries worldwide. However, with so many chemical suppliers in the market, it can be challenging to find the right one that meets your needs. This is why it is important to have a reliable and trustworthy chemical supplier that you can count on for all of your chemical needs.

In this blog post, we will discuss the role of chemical suppliers in Dubai and the UAE, the factors to consider when selecting a chemical supplier, and key players in the chemical supplier market. We'll also give tips on how to research and compare chemical suppliers in the region, so you can make an informed decision when choosing the right supplier for your business.

The role of chemical suppliers in Dubai and the UAE

The role of chemical suppliers in Dubai and the UAE is to provide a variety of chemical products to different industries in the region. These products include raw materials, industrial chemicals, and specialty chemicals that are used in a wide range of applications.

Construction industry is one of the major industries that rely on chemical suppliers in Dubai and the UAE. These chemicals are used in the production of construction materials such as cement, concrete, and asphalt. They are also used in the construction process, for example, as a waterproofing agent, fire-resistant coating, and for surface treatment.

Manufacturing industry is another sector that heavily depends on chemical suppliers. Chemicals are used in the production of various products such as plastics, textiles, and pharmaceuticals. These chemicals play a crucial role in the manufacturing process, as they are used as raw materials, catalysts, and intermediates.

Oil and gas industry is also a major user of chemicals. In the exploration, production, and refining process of oil and gas, various chemicals are used. These chemicals are used for drilling, production enhancement, and refining process.

Specialty chemicals are also an important part of the chemical industry in Dubai and the UAE. These chemicals have specific properties and are used for specific applications, such as in the food and beverage industry, personal care products, and agriculture.

In summary, chemical suppliers in Dubai and the UAE play a crucial role in supplying a wide range of chemicals to various industries, which in turn, enables the smooth functioning of these industries, and contributes to the overall economic growth of the region.

Choosing a chemical supplier in Dubai and the UAE

Choosing a chemical supplier in Dubai and the UAE can be a challenging task due to the large number of suppliers in the market. However, by considering the following factors, you can ensure that you select a supplier that meets your needs and provides you with high-quality chemicals at a reasonable price.

Quality: The quality of the chemicals supplied is of utmost importance. Make sure that the supplier has a good reputation in the market and that their chemicals meet the required industry standards.

Price: Compare the prices of different suppliers and choose one that offers competitive prices without compromising on quality.

Customer Service: A good supplier should provide excellent customer service, including timely delivery of products and prompt response to any queries or concerns you may have.

Certifications: Ensure that the supplier is certified by relevant authorities and that their chemicals have passed all necessary safety and quality tests.

Product Range: Check if the supplier has a wide range of products, so you can find all the chemicals you need from a single supplier, which can save you time and money.

Location: It is important to consider the location of the supplier, as this can affect delivery times and costs.

Environmental & Safety Consideration: Consider the supplier's environmental and safety policies, to ensure that the supplier is following the regulations and not impacting the environment negatively.

When researching potential suppliers, it is important to read reviews, check their websites, and ask for references from other businesses that have used their services. By thoroughly researching and comparing different chemical suppliers in Dubai and the UAE, you can make an informed decision and choose a supplier that meets your needs.

Key players in the chemical supplier market in Dubai and the UAE

Dubai and the UAE have a large number of chemical suppliers, but some stand out as key players in the market. Here are a few examples of major chemical suppliers in the region:

Al Rama International: Al Rama International Chemical Suppliers Company in Dubai, UAE. We are Specialized Chemicals Our Service Industrial Chemical, Cleaning Chemical, Oil field Chemical, Water treatment Chemical, Painting Chemical, Food Chemical, Mining Chemical, Construction Chemical, Power plant Chemical, Ceramic Chemical in Dubai, UAE. Al Rama has been a significant player in the G.C.C. & East African chemical trade, for over 20 years. We stock a wide variety of products ranging from food ingredients, oil exploration chemicals, sanitization chemicals, petroleum derivatives and industrial process raw materials. We possess extensive in-house expertise in blending and repacking of various products. Our facilities include open, closed ambient storage, as well as temperature-controlled storage. We operate our own fleet of road tankers, ISO tanks and pick-up trucks, to ensure full supply chain traceability.

Gulf Petrochem Group: Based in Dubai, Gulf Petrochem is a leading supplier of industrial and specialty chemicals in the region. They have a wide range of products, including petrochemicals, base oils, and lubricants. They also have a strong presence in the Africa, Asia, and Europe market.

National Chemical Corporation (NCC): NCC is a well-established chemical supplier based in Abu Dhabi. They have a wide range of products, including specialty chemicals, petrochemicals, and fertilizers. They also have a strong presence in the Africa, Asia, and Europe market.

Emirates National Chemical Industries (ENCI): ENCI is a leading chemical supplier based in Dubai. They have a wide range of products, including petrochemicals, specialty chemicals, and fertilizers. They also have a strong presence in the Africa, Asia, and Europe market.

These are just a few examples of major chemical suppliers in Dubai and the UAE. There are many other suppliers in the market, and it's important to research and compare different suppliers to find the one that best meets your needs.

Conclusion

In conclusion, chemical suppliers play a crucial role in the UAE and Dubai by supplying a wide range of chemicals to various industries. These industries include construction, manufacturing, oil and gas and specialty chemicals. When choosing a chemical supplier in Dubai, UAE, it is important to consider factors such as quality, price, customer service, certifications, product range, location and environmental & safety consideration. The key players in the chemical supplier market in Dubai and the UAE include Gulf Petrochem Group, National Chemical Corporation (NCC), Emirates National Chemical Industries (ENCI), and Al Rama International. By thoroughly researching and comparing different chemical suppliers in Dubai and the UAE, you can make an informed decision and choose a supplier that meets your needs and helps you to run your business efficiently.

[izvmimi]

cw: smut but softcore. hot spring. too much banter. reader is implied to have textured hair.

“Your hair’s grown long,” you murmur.

With the observation, your right hand wades gently in the steamy surface of the hot spring to rise to Tanjiro's damp cheek and pats it coquettishly before your fingers glide gently through the strands of his water-slicked burgundy locks. You’ve been submerged together, you to your collarbones and him just to the base of his pectoral muscles for the past thirty minutes, chatting idly with a short pause in conversation just moments before this to rest and relax, really letting the soothing waters seep into your skin. Traveling together has weighed heavy on you both and the few minutes to catch your breath have been welcome, but now that you're rejuvenated, you’re right back to teasing. 

“You think so?” he asks. He looks a bit surprised, his own rough fingers closing around a couple looser strands. The remainder stick close to his skin, framing his handsome face, his neck, and the slope of his broad shoulders, and you continue to run your hand through them at the forehead, gently scratching his scalp with your nails as you do so. 

“Yeah, not that I don’t like it,” you practically wink, and he smiles, pulling you into his arms so that you’re back pressed to chest again. You inhale softly and he sighs as if you were sharing one breath. 

“I must have not been paying attention,” he murmurs, kissing your ear. You laugh to yourself, a trickle of heat running down your spine with the nibble of his teeth..

“That’s why you have me,” you remind him, brightly. "To pay attention to you, that is." Your own hair is in a high bun, avoiding the water but reveling in the wafting steam to nurture your coils and he lets himself breathe deeply of the scent, then presses his lips to your neck. 

“Cut it for me?” he asks, tentatively. His hands wander again, gliding from your shoulders to your wrists, and the soft splash of the water parting accentuates the drop of your heart into your loins as he kisses the soft underside.

“I don’t know how to cut wavy hair,” you immediately answer, but he’s turning you to face him again in the water and his eyes look at you hungrily now, as if you’re having a conversation a lot more licentious than the simple act of snipping away with scissors.

“I don’t mind as long as you try your best.”

Tanjiro’s voice is coming out breathy and lower as he leans in, and he’s clearly asking for something more from you rather than this simple future act of service. Eyes darkening as you press your palm against his chest, right above the jagged scars, he asks if you think you’re up to it, and it’s clear he’s not talking about an impromptu haircut.

“And if I do a bad job?”

His hands are on your hips now, cupping the curve of your ass before they lift up, your legs reflexively finding their way in a hold around his waist. The warmth of the hard length pressed soft against your belly stands out so much more than anything in the world right now, enough to make your breath hold tightly in your throat.

“I won’t hold anything against you,” he teases.

You snort, but his bad joke has made him crack a smile. Pulling you with him through the water, he lets himself lean on the rocky wall as he supports you. 

“You’ll let me do whatever I want then?” you ask. He nods, biting his lower lip as you attempt to ease yourself around his cock. He’s good at flustering you, but easily forgets how quickly you can turn the tables on him, at a loss for words as you descend.

But then once you sink in, and take all of him inside, your arms reflexively wrapping around his neck, the temporary gain is lost as you adjust to his length, moaning as he stretches out your insides. Again. Just moments ago, you were like this, letting him slip in and out of you, fluid resistance meaning so little to him with every thrust.

“Of course,” he practically croons.

The push and pull between the two of you is always an endless wave of emotion, where even something as simple as telling your boyfriend he’s looking kind of shaggy ends up in being awash in emotion, but that’s the ebb and flow of your relationship and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[retroactivebakeries]

It is almost five centuries ago, and the girl who will one day be a swordswoman is lying in the red-tinged mud. She can't get up—broken bone? severed tendon? She can't tell. She's yet to cultivate her palate for pain. Her enemy towers over her, a cataphract mailed in screaming steel and poisoned light. His warhammer falls, and it is death, forever death, death unconquered and unconquerable.

"No," says a part of her. She is not even seventeen years old. Her body is mangled and broken, wound piled upon wound piled upon wound. A dull kitchen knife is her only weapon, though she lost that in the mud the second her grip faltered. Her enemy is no thing of this earth. And yet—

"No. It is not death, forever death, death unconquered and unconquerable. It is only a hammer, falling. It is only 'an attack.'"

And the girl understood.

~~~

It is the better part of three centuries ago, as best the swordswoman can reckon, and she is beset on all sides by foes. They are not monsters—just mountain bandits, or highland rebels, as one cares to see it. But they outnumber her by dozens, and even an exceptional swordswoman might struggle against but two opponents of lesser skill.

From in front of her, beside her, behind her they advance, striking from every angle with spears and blades and axes. Others fill the air with arrows, sling stones, firepots. It would be effortless, to parry any single blow. It would be impossible, physically impossible, to defend against them all.

"No," says a part of her.

"You are not outnumbered. You do not face 'multiple' foes. It would be impossible to defend against every attack — but there is no 'every' attack. Only one."

"Oh," the swordswoman said. And it was, in fact, effortless.

~~~

It is eighty years ago, or thereabouts. A coiling spire of stony flesh and verdigrised copper throbs like a tumor on the horizon, coaxed from the earth by spell and sacrifice. It is the tower of a sorcerer-prince, and a birthing place of abominations.

Seven locks of rune-etched metal are opened with her single key. Wretched shapeling beasts, grown by sorcery in vitreous nodules, flee wailing from her, absconding before she even draws her blade. Demons sworn to thousand-year pacts of service find the binding provisions of their agreements unexpectedly severed.

These things dissatisfy the sorcerer-prince. He waxes wroth. He makes signs of power and chants incantations. With a flask of godling's blood, he draws the binding sigil inscribed upon the moon's dark face. With cold fire burning in his eyes, he speaks the secret name of Death. It is a king among curses, all-corrupting, all-consuming, and it falls from his lips upon the swordswoman.

"No," she says, and she turns it aside with her blade.

The sorcerer-prince's brow furrows. How did she even do that?

"Parried it."

But—

"With my sword."

No—

"See, like this."

Stop—

"Well," the swordswoman finally says, "I figured that if I just...looked at it right, and thought about it, and construed your curse as a kind of attack...then I could block it."

That's not how it works at all!

"If you insist," says the swordswoman, shrugging, and decapitates him.

~~~

It is now. It is the end. Death couldn't take the swordswoman, not when she'd spent all her life cutting it up. At times, Death might sidle up to one of her friends, or peer down into a grandchild's crib, and she'd just give it a look. That's all it took, by then.

Heartache couldn't take her, either. Bad things happened to her, and they hurt, and she lived in that hurt, but if it was ever more than she could take...she'd just, move her sword in a way that's difficult to describe. And she'd keep going.

Kingdoms fell, and she kept going. Continents crumbled and sank into the sea. Her planet's star faded and froze. She started carrying a lantern. Universes were torn apart and scattered, until all that had been matter was redistributed in thermodynamic equilibrium. With one exception.

But now it is the end. There is no time left; time is already dead. The swordswoman has outlived reality, but there is simply no further she can go. This is not a thing that can be blocked. This is the absence of anything further to block.

"No," says the girl who will one day be a swordswoman. "This isn't the ending. And even if it was, it's not the ending that matters."

The swordswoman looks back at who she was, at the countless selves she's been between them. She looks forward, at the rapidly contracting point that remains of the future. She grasps the all of linear time in her mind, and sees that it is shaped like a spear.

[fanaticsnail]

Hair Pulling: Benn Beckman

Birthday Party Masterlist

Word Count: 2,600+

Themes: Benn Beckman x gn!reader, mdni, smut, 18+, NSFW, kink, hair pulling, insertion sex, oral sex, Sub!Beckman x Dom!reader. First-Mate x Barber.

Notes: It is @jintaka-hane's birthday! Happy birthday! I hope you enjoy your beautiful day, and may Beckman getting his hair pulled spark some joy and illuminate your celebration. So much love for you 🖤

Sitting at your workstation, you began rolling and folding the fresh batch of towels you purchased from the town the Red-Force was currently docked at. The fluffy material felt so foreign in your hands after using your well-worn and crusted cloths for your crew for so long. You couldn’t wait to spoil your crewmates with the new fabric, truly relishing in your job when you were not called to arms in defense of your captain, Shanks.

As the crew barber, it was your job to ensure your crewmates kept themselves as neat and tidy as they desired to be. Whether it was maintaining a goatee, some shadowing on their cheeks, a suave manicured lip and chin, or a rugged scruffiness suited to their liking: you were to keep them in perfect order. Haircuts and styling was also in your repertoire, and you wore that title well.

There was only one member of your crew that had yet to seek out your services for himself. Keeping in the quiet, shearing his own cheeks in the morning, neck and chin littered with small nicks and cuts at after a morning scrub in the bathroom, was the broody first mate.

Hunched over the itinerary captain Shanks had curated for their departure, he leaned his hips on the railing with a scowl on his lips.

Placing down the last folded towel, you withdrew your straight razor and leather hanging strop from your satchel. Checking over your blade for any notches or cracks in need of honing, you blow gently on the silver side of the knife. Holding your blade steady, you gently glide the silver along the stretch, conforming to its curvature along the surface with little resistance.

Benn Beckman was a friend to you, truly enjoying your company in the still of the night when the crew slumbered. As first mate, it was his duty to keep his captain and crew safe. He was both the first and last line of defense for the redhead, and often had little time to dilly dally with his crew. In that quiet, you would often recall small moments traveling together on the seas. Your soft laughter marrying his whispered chuckles was music to the crew, putting them at ease while they slumbered.

You would be lying to yourself if you said you were not attracted to him. Sure, your Captain and the Doctor had their charm, but Benn Beckman: first mate and dutiful death dealer was where your eyes found their perch.

Being simply friends, you assumed he would have approached you by now to do your job on his features. Just a quick tidy of his jawline, trimming his graying locks, giving him a treatment for the sea-sprayed ends - but he never did. Not once. Not a single time.

Narrowing your eyes at him and pursing your lips, you examined his recklessness littering his cheeks with drying blood and crusted sores. Almost scowling at it, you were yet to notice the approach of your crewmate taking a seat in your chair.

“Hey Barber, got a spot for me in your station?” Yasopp queries with a smile in every word, “Can I have a quick tidy up?”

“Course you can, Sharpshooter,” you laugh with him, gently brushing off your chair and reaching for one of the freshly rolled towels. “It's what I'm here for. Just a shave, or rerolling your coils?”

“Just a shave for now. The dreads can wait,” he nodded his head and eagerly plonked himself down at your station. “I've never had a shave as near as yours before. Even when it grows back, it's more manageable.”

“Thank you, Yassop. Now just shut your eyes, lay back, and let me do what I need to do on you.”

“Aye, Barber.”

Watching from his position reclining against the wooden panels, Benn Beckman’s lips drew slack. The filter end of his cigarette lay glued to his lips while they parted in awe. Each glide of the blade over Yasopp’s skin coincided with a gentle tug or maneuver of his scalp to guide him to an appropriate repositioning.

“You're doing it again, Becks.”

Shanks plopped himself alongside the railing beside the first mate, giving him a playful tap on the shoulder in the process. Beckman let's put a soft grunt and continues glaring at the scene unfolding in front of him. You were halfway through the shave now, gently holding idle chatter between yourself and Yasopp while you tidy him up.

“I'm not doin’ nothin’, Cap,” Beckman grumbles, taking a hefty drag of his cigarette. Shanks chuckles, following his eyeline and darting his gaze between Yasopp and you together.

“Why don't you just go up and take a seat,” Shanks suggested as if it was the easiest course of action to take for the big guy, “You really messed up your general scruff. Looks like you angered a pather. Go on. After Yasopp, it's your turn.”

Beckman snaps his gaze over towards Shanks at the thought, blaring into him with his darkened eyes filled with rage.

“You know damn well how I feel about my hair gettin’ touched.” Beckman warned him, his voice hardened with a mixture of warning and confession laden within, “I don't want our barber to do it for me, because I know it'll change the way they see me. Don't wanna do it to them.”

“Just focus on something else, Becks.” Shanks offered in a tone of jesting, index and middle fingers on his right hand walking up his forearm, “You know? Not like you haven't thought of ‘em tugging your hair when you're alone in your quarters.”

Beckman sends Shanks a glare that he has only ever seen a handful of times, who in turn raises his hands defensively. With a small chuckle, Shanks backs away from the broody first mate with a playful smirk.

The gray-haired first mate continues to watch you as you finish your work on Yasopp, wiping off the sharpshooter’s face with a towel. Giving him a playful trace of your fingers along his jawline, you send him from your chair and begin to sanitize it for the next use.

Looking over from your point above the deck of the red force, you could've sworn you caught the first mate’s eyes as he gazed over from his recline against the rail. His thumb met the filter end of his cigarette and pressed it in a sizzle within his iron ashtray.

“Beckman?” you gather your courage to call over to him, finally refusing to let this little dance go on any longer, “Come and see me tomorrow, you hear? Need to fix up your razor, and I've got a balm for you to use tonight.”

Benn Beckman freezes in place, a static-like shudder frizzing from the tips of his toes to the crown of his head. Without much force, he apprehensively sighs out a little, “Aye, that I will.”

Smiling to yourself, you prepare a cube of solid ointment in a tin for him, hoping the balm would aid in the healing for a closer shave, and to halt any scarring or pore blockages from occurring and getting itchy.

The following day, Benn Beckman found himself in your chair. A dark cape was casually draped around his neck, tucked in a towel and buttoned at his collar. The aroma of aftershaves and foaming cleansers lingered as you massaged his prickly scruff with your fingertips.

He could barely focus on your conversation. Whichever topic that graced past your lips was white noise to him. While he often found himself easily lost in conversation with you, he was now wholeheartedly focussed on one thing, and one thing only.

Trying not to cum.

Your hands so easily maneuver his head around, skilled fingers cleaning up his face and ridding him of his spindles protruding from his chin. In his head, it was an eternal argument as to whether he was to tell you how worked up he was, and how long he had been without coupling with a partner, or simply ignore how you made him feel while wholeheartedly enjoying the experience.

He had been to barbers before, and none of them made him feel this worked up over a simple pampering. Paired with the fact he adored you, and he was lost completely to the feeling of your fingers on his skin.

“You want a trim while I'm at it?” he hears you ask. He hadn't had the heart to decline, sparing both himself and you or his shameful joy at the touch. Instead, he closed his eyes and uttered a soft, “yes,” while his cock twitched against the crotch of his pants.

“You have such pretty hair, Becks,” you compliment him in earnest, reaching for the woven band holding his locks within, “If you don't mind me saying, of course.”

“N-Not at all,” he stuttered out, wincing as your hands dragged down the tight coil and freeing his strands from their confines. You take his small flinch as discomfort, but it could not be further from his experience.

Beckman was trying not to picture how you would look straddling his face, guiding him by those skilled hands. Tugging and pulling harshly to have him pinpoint your bliss, having him consume your ecstasy with his vigorous and unrelenting mouth while you held onto his hair.

Carding your fingers through his salted and peppery strands, you found yourself cooing at the way each fistful felt in your hands. He was so pliant, listening to your wordless directions as you angled him to find an appropriate position. Scissors handled carefully to chop at the damaged ends, you continued humming out your praise at the first mate.

His pulse quickened and breath hitched at the way your words and actions truly moved him.

Where your lips curved out: “Your hair is so volumous, I can't get over how you manage to trap it in that band,” Beckman heard, “Your hair feels perfect in my hands, let me trap you in my lap and fuck you.”

Spilling out gentle praise and manageable instructions: “Move to the side, good job. Just like that, Becks,” Beckman’s mind morphed it into, “Fuck, you’re doing such a good job for me. Keep going, good boy.”

Each roll of his neck guided by a tug to his scalp, his eyes rolled back beneath fluttering lashes. His cock continued to twitch and move against his seams at every motion, everything occuring below the belt against his will. He hated himself for reacting like this, for hearing your voice guide him and move against his skull so easily.

At one more sensual tug, his voice entangled in his jugular and caused him to shudder his jaw. You halted your actions immediately, truly believing you had caused him discomfort.

“I'm sorry. Did I hurt you, big guy?” Your concern was laden in your tone, only aiding in expanding his cock to a pulsating rod to pitch the tent in his pants.

“No, Darlin’, I'm alright,” he uttered with a breathy chuckle to follow, “Just not used to bein’ manhandled like this is all.”

“You're used to being in charge. I get it,” you chuckle down at him playfully, giving his hair a soft tug as you did with the others aboard your ship, “You're in my chair now, sweetheart. Gotta listen close to me, or I might accidentally pull on something I shouldn't.”

Both of you were surprised by the needy whine that fled from Beckman’s throat, your hands fleeing immediately from their grip on his hair and discarding your scissors in the tray beside you. You took a moment to steady yourself, your infatuation rising for him in your gut and swelling in need up to your throat. The way he moaned for you was pornographic, and your mind ran with that to a point where you personally had to halt your job to breathe through the feeling.

Beckman knows there's no disguising it now. He has a kink, and you had inadvertently made yourself subject to it by your actions. His mind was already attempting to accumulate an apology to you, thanking the stars that Shanks had conducted an away mission to enjoy a bar in town himself with the crew.

As you stepped towards him, he immediately drew his eyes to find your own. Expecting you to be peering into his soul, gaze filled with rage at the use of you pulling on his hair and fanning the flames of his lust, he saw your eyes immediately flung to his belt line.

Noticing your eyes draw down to his cock, shrouded by the dark covering laid on his lap, he was unsure as to where your mind found itself wandering.

“Benn Beckman,” you whispered softly, a softness rising in your tone. Reaching for the loose strand dangling over his eye, you tucked it behind your ear and purred at him, “You have a thing for hair-pulling, don't you?”

His apologies jumbled and merged into one large stuttery mess. His cheeks rose in hue and illuminance the longer he attempted to recover from your accusation. Each tumble and stutter he elected to present to you was met with a knowing and teasing look down your nose at him.

“Oh, Becks,” you cooed down at him, scrunching up your nose with a soft light in your eyes, “Is that why you haven't come to see me? Something as simple as a little tug on the ponytail gets you all hot and bothered?”

Beckman’s blush rose higher, his head practically seething with frustrated vapors. Just as he was about to open his mouth to growl at you for your comments, you hushed him with a few simple words.

“If you'd have told me about this earlier, we could've had some fun with it,” you shrugged, eyes immediately thereafter growing wide at your blazen disregard for indescression, “I-I mean, if you like me like that-... I mean… if you don't… I… I didn't-.”

“-Are you done with the cut?” Beckman immediately cut you off, his face no longer glaring with his uncertainty and fury.

“I… well, yes, sir,” you nodded, lips sucked into your mouth to stifle their quiver. Beckman reached up to the collar, tugging at the buttoned seam and releasing the cape from shrouding his broad body.

“Then what are we waiting for?”

Just as simply as that conversation began, you found yourself with the broody first mate tangled in his sheets and crying out beneath him. Your legs were over his hips, your entrance stretched and molding to his shape the longer he split you open with his thick shaft. Slow and sultry drags of his cock within your body propelled you to a higher plane of bliss. He huffed and panted in the crease where your shoulder met your neck, whining out as you tugged on his freshly trimmed and manicured ponytail.

His hips grew staggered in their languid thrusts, feeling his enevitable release finally stampeding towards the finish line. Your own need was pooling in the pit of your stomach, swelling up and beginning to bloom in your chest. Your breaths came out in heady pants, and you reigned him towards his unravelment by pulling hard on the back of his hair.

“Cum for me, big boy,” you whisper needily, Beckman’s resolve shattering as he unleashed his pearlescent ropes of thick cum deep within you. Calls of your name on his tongue spur you into your own ecstasy, riding through the coursing waves as he buried himself down to the hilt within you.

Both you and Beckman were once again thankful that Shanks and the remainder of the Red Force crew had left you both in isolation to enjoy exploring Beckman's preference for having his hair pulled.

From then on, he was adamant on having only you shave his cheeks and trim his hair to keep him pretty. Even better were the times you did it naked, his cock nestled deep within you and being told to keep still so you don't make a mess of his handsome features with a straight razor and your scissors.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory

🎶Happy birthday to me🎶.

If you would like to celebrate by indulging my caffeine and bubble tea addiction, my Kofi link is here.

[teastainedprose]

Hi !

Can you do a Homelander x F!Reader with a blackmail situation ?

For the context, someone's blackmailing Reader to leave Homelander and because of the stress she did it when he was patrolling. Of course, Homelander wouldn't accept it and try to find her but he can't. So a few days later Vought brought him a new "girlfriend" to heal the pain Reader "created" only for them to (by mistake) imply that they are responsible for the departure of Reader. After dealing with the situation at Vought, he went looking for her again, eventually finding her at her favorite spot, where she was trying to forget Homelander.

You can change some parts if you want 😁

Thanks you if you do it ♥️❤️

Listen, Anon. LISTEN! I am grabbing you by the shoulders, I am gently shaking you, I am lovingly cupping your cheek and whispering, "Write the fic." - because it's clear that you've got the plot and I bet you've been daydreaming up the story route and I need you to write it. Spit out some bullet points. Scribble out a few scenes out of order, but write it!!

As I read this ask while rolling out of bed half awake and ran off in a slightly different direction while I brainstormed in the shower and I know you've got an idea there so WRITE IT!! So I can read it

Now have something similar, but not quite what you outlined. This kinda evolved into a companion/epilogue?? piece to Play With Fire, as Vought would have plenty of reason to not want Homelander dating a canned employee, especially if she's a fat little thing. Bad for the brand and all.

+1.5k words | Warning for violence/gore, Homelander can have a little murder. As a treat. Plus-Sized female reader, established relationship, no proofreading as I was possessed

The moment his boots drop onto the balcony and Homelander strides into the penthouse, he knows something is wrong.

First, there is the absence of you. Not just the lack of your body settled on the couch waiting for him as you often are, but everything you touched. The laptop you diligently type away at while working is gone. The vibrant throw pillows you insisted on getting to make the imposing couch more inviting are missing. The plush blanket you always coiled yourself into wasn't haphazardly thrown over the back of the couch as it always is when not in service. The lack of these items now makes the couch look barren and cold. Now Homelander can see how uninviting the whole thing looks.

There are other pieces of you missing as well. The trinkets and baubles you'd purchased on a whim and set about the penthouse, coloring the space with pieces of you. The discarded books, many with notes and dog-eared pages weren't haphazardly stuffed in strange places. Homelander would check the bedroom, but he knows the closet now has an empty space where your clothing hung.

There's a buzz starting up in his brain, an insistent worry that's setting his teeth on edge as Homelander's mind races across every possible reason why you're gone. You left him. Someone kidnapped you. You finally got tired of him. Someone stole you away. You hate him. Someone is hurting you. The buzzing grows in volume as Homelander's lip twitches up, feet taking him to pace across the floor before a movement in the corner of his eye cuts straight through the noise.

The buzzing goes silent. The colors are correct. Relief rushes over Homelander as he turns to face the figure in full. You, there you are and- 

No. Homelander blinks, drawing back a step as he takes in the woman standing at the entrance of his penthouse. She has your hair color; the cut has been styled like yours, but the texture is off. She's got something close to your complexion, your eye color even, and she's wearing clothing in your usual manner of dress, but everything is wrong. For one, she's thinner. Homelander sneers.

The woman smiles, uncertain as her heart races like a rabbit against her ribs. "Hi." One word uttered and it's all wrong. That's not your voice. That's not your smile. There is no sunshine breaking across this woman's face as she looks at Homelander. Her expression is quiet and expectant, waiting. Anxious.

He inhales slowly, rolling his neck as Homelander clenches his fists at his side. The scent on the air is bitter. She's afraid. She should be.

"No, no, no. Who the fuck are you?" Homelander snaps out, across the room in two long strides and now she's gasping. Gasping because Homelander has his fingers about her throat, gloves creaking softly as his grip tightens and lifts her. "Who the fuck are you?" He repeats, barking the words out.

"I-I'm Vicky," She stammers out as Homelander eases up enough to let her breath and set her feet back on the floor. That rabbit heart is trying to burst free within the woman's chest now, beating all the louder. "Y-your er, new girlfriend...?" Her words end in a panicked squeak as the woman tries to shrink away. 

"New- "Homelander cuts off as he stares at her, head tilted to the side and lip twitching as he digests this bit of information. He swallows and takes in a breath, reeling in his rage as his mind whirls. Vought had decided to replace you. Plucked up some stupid woman who only shares a similar color palette with you, but she isn't you. This woman is nowhere close to the beautiful creature you are.

Vought didn't approve of your secret relationship. They'd deemed you unmarketable. Not the image they wanted to project for the brand. Then there was the hope that Homelander would grow bored of you. To wait out his hyper-fixation on you. The months had crawled by and still Homelander kept you close. You'd moved in, burrowed yourself right into his life as Homelander wanted. 

For some fucking stupid reason, Vought thought a replacement would distract him. As if he's a child, or a dumb dog they've swapped a toy out on. 

"Vicky," Homelander smiles and it's the smile of a shark. All teeth and dead eyes. "How lovely," A purr now as Homelander slides his hand down her neck and brushes his thumb over her collarbone. Her smile is uncertain, but it's still there as she relaxes. The rabbit in her chest calms down. He digs his thumb in as Homelander sucks on his teeth.

Fucking idiot.

There's no warning when Homelander's fist buries itself into the woman's abdomen, only a wheezing hiss as the air is forced out of her. A wet sound follows under all that crunching and grinding of bone as Homelander twists his fist and pulls it back. He clicks his tongue, releasing the woman's corpse to topple across the floor.

Homelander exhales, puffing out his cheeks while looking down at his fist in mild disgust. The red leather hides fresh blood well, but he knows it'll congeal into a darker mess soon enough. Leaning over, he absently wipes it off on the fabric of the woman's sunshine colored dress. The sunshine would look better on you while the smeared red looks better on Vicky as far as Homelander is concerned.

It doesn’t take him long to hunt Ashley down, storming into her office with eyes flashing red. The only reason Homelander doesn’t fucking laser her in two is because she’s crying. Ashley is crying and blowing her nose into a tissue as she looks at Homelander, eyes filled with regret and tears. She’s grown fond of you, Homelander realizes and that’s reason enough not to cave her skull in. Homelander knows you like her well enough, too. Ashley blubbers the story out. They’d wanted you gone. Out of the picture and out of his life. You were an uncontrollable variable that refused to play ball and Edgar wasn’t one for loose strings. A replacement had already been found and was on her way earlier this morning. While Homelander was out on a mission, disposing of you had been easy enough. It only took thirty minutes to pack all of your things, revoke your access to the building and effectively lock you out. Ashley had managed a helping hand in the form of a plane ticket wherever you wished, knowing you no longer rented your own apartment after moving in with Homelander.

It had been a plot against you, he knows this now but why had you gone so willingly? Why weren’t you screaming outside of Vought Tower for him? Why did you take that plane ticket? Something rotten wriggles within Homelander’s heart. He knows he’s not an easy creature to live with and has worn your patience thin some days. The start of your relationship would have been considered rocky at best and there’s all that stalking he did that you still don’t know about. They gave you an out and you took it.

His trip to the airport is swift and no one would dare try to stop the Homelander as he seeks you out at your intended gate. Except you’re not there. You’ve not even checked in yet. He goes to your old apartment next, eyes scanning the building for your form. Your favorite restaurant is next. Then the place that makes your favorite tea. After that he’s hovering above the bookstore you’ve dragged him to. None of them contain you. Homelander is lost for a moment, mind frantic with worry now at where you could be. Then he remembers one of your favorite spots. A park close to where your old apartment is and it’s another place Homelander has been dragged to by you. This is a spot he enjoyed. It was quiet, even in such a bustling city. He always pretended it was a forest clearing you two were enjoying the peace of.

You’re there. Of course you are. You’re settled on a bench, head turned towards the trees as Homelander descends. “Sweetheart,” He growls. It comes out harsher than Homelander wants, but he’s on edge. Why did you leave him? 

You jump, head snapping round and he can see you’ve been crying. Your eyes are puffy, face pinched in pain as Homelander’s heart seizes at the sight. 

“What!?” You stare a beat, before anger rises. You’ve always been his little spitfire. “You had me cast out! They packed me up and kicked me out on your orders! You- You abandoned me…!” The fire smolders and dies as tears leak down your face.

"No, no, no. Not you, never you!" In an instant, all of Homelander's rage vanishes in the face of your sorrow. How could you ever want to leave his side? Foolish of him to even think it. Why would you ever want to leave? He’s beside you, he’s gathering you up in his arms, he’s crushing you gently in his hold. Your sobs are wet, loud, and there’s snot on his suit. Homelander doesn’t care. He shushes you, fingers combing through your hair as the arm about your middle squeezes just a bit tighter. The weight of you sinking against him and into him is a comfort, your flesh yielding under his grip on you.

“I came home and you were gone,” Homelander whispers against your ear as he nuzzles his nose into your hair. He inhales deeply, all of the tension leaving his body as he takes in your scent. “But I’m here now. It’s okay, I’ve got you,” He exhales, pulling back enough to look down at you. Homelander smiles. You’re here, you’re safe, he will never ever let you out of his sight again.

[muzzledhoundsheart]

On my knees, at your service

🕊️Benjicot „Davos“ Blackwood x Reader🕊️

His hands left searing prints on your skin. Every hair standing on edge and the small trickles of sweat were ever present in your mind. He was ungainly and breathless, muttering to himself in between desperate whimpers „just….i can’t….come on“. He was simply too clumsy, too inexperienced and, as always, just a tinge too timid. You wouldn’t expect it from someone so ferocious and bloodthirsty on the battling ground but for you, he would always falter. 

„Ben…let- here let me hel-“ you pant out trying to aid his hands, showing him which strings to unfasten first. But he cuts you off with another desperate kiss. You feel like your lungs would burst at any moment, it was all too much yet still not enough to satiate this searing desire. The kiss was, in all of its force, still so soft and loving. His right hand coming up from his unfruitful attempt at unlacing your bodice, to gently cradle your jaw while his tongue swept over yours, mingling your saliva together. He came up for air briefly, the aforementioned saliva now hanging in glistening strings connecting your lips still. Benji was torn between dipping down again and entwining your lips once more and telling you that this light be a bad idea. He thought that, maybe, him not being able to unlace you was a sign from the gods. Heed and refrain from going any further lest you will regret it. All these doubts were overwhelmed by sight of you though. So flushed and panting you looked like you would pass out at any moment. Your hair disheveled, curls and waves having left your braid and now sticking wetly to your blushed skin. Your eyes glossed over and your lips so deliciously swollen and plump.

He often wondered how they would feel all over his body but those were the thoughts he wouldn’t dare speak aloud to you. Benji would never want to treat you like his brothers treated the ladies of the night they frequented, he’s heard all the stories. No. You were a goddess divine and he was your ever loving devotee. This gave him an idea though. „I need… I want..“ he sputtered out helplessly. Your brows furrowed but before words could leave your mouth he sank to his knees and gently ran his hands up your shins. „Ben.. what?“ „hold this.“ he instructed having bunched up your skirts. You did as you were told, an amused grin spreading across your lips. „And what is your plan now, huh?“ you couldn’t help but tease him, it kept him humble. Ben’s eyes were almost black and so glossed over, it looked like stars were swimming in them. „I plan on devouring you whole my Lady.“ The air you sucked in to laugh at him was repurposed for a moan. Ben kept at your slit, parting it with his tongue over your silken slip. One of your hands let go of your skirts, hesitating to find solace in Benji’s hair.

Benji was occupied with sliding your undergoes down your legs, just enough so that they pool around your ankles themselves. He gently lifted one of your heels, completely slipping out of them now and sat it atop his shoulder. Satisfied with your position he dove in. His tongue licked in long strokes between your slit, gathering as much of your wetness as he could. Ever the impatient man he was though, his tongue soon grew restless. He licked and sucked making obscene wet noises, grunts and whimpers leaving him like he’s been starved for too long finally getting to feast once more. You were in shambles.

Your timid hand did find its way to his hair, pulling the root trying to find some sort of stability. Your legs soon began shaking and in vain attempts of staying quiet, you gulped down the thick air panting in staccato. The pleasure brought tears to your eyes, a feeling you’ve never experienced before coiled in your innards. And your head fell with a thud against the wooden wall behind you.

Between your legs Benji’s hands itched to to slip inside of you, feel the velvet slick wetness and be as close to you as was possible. He stuck to just using his mouth for now though suckling on your clit and sending shivers up your spine, not wanting to defile you more than he was now. He told himself that this was fine, you were allowed pleasure and he technically wasn’t taking your maiden hood in the traditional sense. His cock was pulsating painfully in his breeches now, weeping of its woes and aching to be sheathed inside of you.

But on his knees in front of you is where he belonged and he would feel all but blissful to be able to die between them like this. He needed not to die on the battlefield, he would drag himself back home to you and lap at your cunt until his last breath. He didn’t know if it were these thoughts or his aching cock that made him paw at your hips whispering pleas into your cunt, or the moans that slipped out through your desperate attempts at keeping quite.

He grew restless and soon you were sure that this was your end. He’s eaten you whole that much was sure. The coil in your innards thoughts until the tears streamed like glistening pearls down your face. „Benji please please please.“ his nose brushed over your clit once more and that was it. You were shaking and clenching around nothing, wishing his cock was sheathed deep within your weeping cunt. Benji just keep drinking up all the nectar dripping out of you.

When he came up again, his whole face glistened with your fluids. Even his thick lashes were coated and the realization made you even more bashful. His hands wrapped around you waits tightly, pulling you in flush against his hard body. „You look like you’re about to faint“ he chuckled. „I have faith that you will catch me then.“ you both grinned at eachother like mad men, your eyes filled with longing and adoration for eachother. „Maybe then you’d have all the time in the world to unlace me.“ „These things are worse than a bear trap dove. I might lose a finger next time.“ he feigned worry, muttering with his nose against your cheekbone. „What a shame that would be, I have hoped you could put them to good use next time.“ „Next time.“ he promised.

[rottenpumpkin13]

shinra attempts to replace reeve causing everything to go to shit how do the directors react

No one truly realized how much Reeve held HQ together until his replacement decided to cancel his under-the-table deal with Lazard regarding SOLDIER's "stress-relief expenditures" (read: overpriced snacks, dubious luxury items, and niche services that kept people from spontaneously combusting). Within a week, the board started questioning why the program needed a soundproof "screaming" chamber labeled 'For Sephiroth Only.'

*Zack bursts into the room holding Cait Sith*

Zack: Guys, this cat can solve all our problems!

Angeal: A toy cat. While we're dealing with budget cuts that are threatening the entire program.

Genesis: They've already stripped us of our imported coffee. Now we're supposed to believe a stuffed... whatever this is... will restore our dignity?

Zack: No, listen! It's like Reeve's spirit animal or something! It knows things!

Angeal: Zack, they cut our training simulator funding by 60%. We need to talk to Lazard NOW. Put the toy down and let's go.

Zack: Fine... :(

*Everyone storms out, leaving Sephiroth alone with Cait Sith*

Sephiroth: ...

Cait Sith: Some folk deserve tae shuffle off this mortal coil wi' a swift kick, and Hojo's top o' the list! If yer feelin' generous, ye could send the professor tae the great beyond!

Sephiroth: What the fuck

Cait Sith: No one will ever believe ye, laddie.

[two-bit-too-high]

Lost boys with a mate/pack member that has a rbf (resting bitch face) and is touch starved but love touch and when they cuddle in the nest she falls asleep with a smile and- OAMXOAMAOMWJ ITS SO FLUFFF IM SORRYYY LMAO

A/N I did a another one! Yipeee! Please enjoy! As always please send in any more ideas.

The Lost boys x Reader with resting bitch face

☁️ pure fluff

⚠️ Warnings: none except my possibly god awful spelling and grammar.

Enjoy

It's cold in the cave, cold enough that if you weren't a vampire you would probably fall into a coma.you were sitting on one of the large lounge chairs that the boys had found a few weeks ago warped in a big quilted blanket reading with a mason jar of blood on the nightstand next to you a vampic hot chocolate if you will .When a certain blonde pops up in front of you.

“Oh hello Marko” you say not looking up from your book “hello my bleeding rose” Marko says in a quiet voice he himself was warped in a blanket to keep out some of the cold “is everything ok” you ask is due to the face he as his puppy eyes on he only uses those when he is in Trouble or if he wanted something. “Are you mad at me?” he asked, “Mad at you?” you replied “no I ain't mad at you all” you add “oh well you just looked really upset and I was...I was worried I had done something to make you mad” he says still with his puppy eyes on full display “no not at all Marko your fine” you says while unwrapping the blanket from around yourself to invite him into the warm this is one invitation he expects immediately jumping up into the big lounge with you cuddling under the covers and up to you. As you sat there in silence your Mind started to wonder why on earth did he think you were mad at him.

Later In the night you were in the small kitchen that was just off the main cave area where Marko was sleeping in the big chair still warped in the blankets.when You ran into David who was making yet again another Blood and whisky in the glass that only he is allowed to use. You were Minding your own when David spoke up “what's got you in a twist darling” “huh” you replied “you look mad or something is Paul getting on your nerves again” he continues “no I'm fine” you say you stop washing your cup and look up at him “I ain't mad or upset” you add “okay then” he said as he disappeared back into the cave whisky glass in hand leaving you in the kitchen to once again wonder what on earth is going on.

An hour went by and you ended sitting in the rafters watching Paul play his guitar. You had found another blanket and was now just staring into space thinking. “Woah babe you look pissed” says as he looks up from his guitar “I do?” you replied “yeah like someone cut all ya guitar strings or stolen your feed” he says as he keeps plucking at his guitar “I ain't upset” you say you had started to play around with a loose coil of guitar string. Paul hums “well you certainly look it” he adds before going back to his music leaving you in the mental dust.

“Alright everyone, time to pack it in for the night” yelled out David at about 5:30am and like clockwork everyone started to file into the nesting room. Like always you in the middle and David and Dwyane to your right and then Marko and Paul to your left. “Did you have a bad night honey” asked Dwyane as he cuddled up to your side “no!” You say loudly “oh my god why does everyone keep saying that!” You add “because you look like it,love” says Dwyane “what do you mean!” You add “seems you have a case of resting bitch face babe” says Paul “oh that's just great” you said as you nuzzle into Dwyane’s chest. “Well a public service announcement if I look pissed off I'm probably not so stop worrying about it” you say.”noted” they all say in unison.

One by one you all fell asleep under several different blankets and as you did you had a smile on your face thankful that you had finally figured out why on earth you kept getting all those questions.

Hope y'all enjoyed it :)

[andbreakmynose]

sweat marks all on my clothes

tennis player! alex x tennis player! reader

heavily challengers inspired because i kept rewatching it while writing this lol

also fetus al

WARNINGS: SMUT, oral (m + f receiving), sweat, light body worship, semi public sex

WORD COUNT: 4.5k

Alex stood at the baseline; his feet were shoulder-width apart, and he could feel the texture of the court on his feet. His right hand gripped the handle of the racquet with confident familiarity, the leather-wrapped grip slightly worn from countless matches, molding perfectly to his sweaty palm.

The weight of the racquet felt like home—a precise extension of his arm. He bounced the tennis ball a few times with his left hand, the sound echoing in the quiet of the court—or maybe it was just in your ears. In your ears this sounded like the loudest anticipation you’ve heard. You needed him to win this for you.

Alex shifted his stance, leaning slightly forward, eyes narrowing as he focused on the service box across the net. His already sore muscles tensed subtly, a coil of energy ready to be unleashed. The air was static, thick with the lingering heat of the day, and he could feel a bead of sweat trickling down the back of his neck, slowly tracing the line of his spine that was still covered in your marks from the night before. Before he sent the ball in the air he made a millisecond of a glance at you, acknowledging the stakes here.

With a smooth, practiced motion, he tossed the ball high into the air, his eyes following its arc against the sky. His body moved in perfect synchronization—knees bending, torso rotating, and then, with a snap of his wrist, he brought the racquet forward.

The ball shot across the net, a blur of yellow as it cut through the air, skimming just above the tape. It hit the service box with a sharp, echoing thud, kicking up a tiny puff of dust as it struck the court and veered sharply to the left, barely skimming the sideline.

Alex straightened, eyes fixed on the ball’s trajectory, every sense heightened, already preparing for the next move, his body alive with the electric anticipation of the game before him. You tried to watch him, tried to keep your eyes on every move that boy made, but there was that damn camera shoved in your face, some reporter trying to get every angle of Alex Turner’s equally talented girlfriend.

You gave the camera a smile and a wave before turning your attention back on Alex, not wanting to miss a second of the action. He was playing against some guy named Tucker, you had done your research. Tucker was from Manchester and was born into a wealthy family. He had a similar track record to Alex but he lacked something your boy had; drive. You could tell he didn’t really care if he won or lost, that it was just a game to him. For Alex it was bigger, for Alex he had to win for you.

You met Alex when you were young, he was playing at the park by himself and you offered to help him out. Since then you were an unstoppable duo, he’d go to your games and cheer you on, you’d go to his games and cheer him on. You were both good, really good, especially for two people who only got formal training from the cheapest coaches in the city. Both of you started playing competitively at the age of 14 and became level one juniors at 16. Now you were both 18, in your last year of playing with the juniors until it was time for the big leagues. You really had to make your mark now and make it big.

That’s where the relationship stuff started; a mutual friend of you and Alex jokingly suggested that you two should pretend to date and become some sort of spectacle. That if the number one male junior player and female junior player were dating than you’d be worth more than your already impressive skills.

You laughed at first but eventually you and Alex decided it was a good idea, that if the attention was already going to be on you then there was no harm in manipulating it a bit. And it helped that there was years of mutual attraction behind the two of you already, it was almost a perfect plan.

So you and Alex started dating, kissing each other before and after games, going to events together, and mentioning each other in every interview. It seemed to work well, all the tennis publications were about the two of you. You two got dubbed the “Most Promising Couple in Tennis”, people started to talk about you.

You struck “the deal” when you first noticed Alex’s focus decrease. He had lost a few games here and there and sometimes it seemed like he wanted to party instead of practice. You couldn’t deal with that; he was supposed to go pro with you like he said he would when you were 12.

It was a simple deal but it worked:

If he won a game you’d suck his dick

If you won a game he’d eat you out

If you both won you’d fuck

Alex’s skills improved almost immediately, he was lovesick and would do anything for the opportunity to touch you (even if you were planning on giving it to him win or lose). He started winning all his games again, he made you proud.

And that led you back to where you were now, watching him against this Tucker guy. When you left his bed this morning you promised him the best blowjob ever if he won this for you, and it seemed like that put a fire in Alex’s step.

He was drenched in sweat by the end of the first set, pouring water down his throat to prepare for the next. He had won but not by a lot, he needed to be at his best to win the second and not have to go to a third set. Your eyes never left him, staring at him like a hawk.

He winked at you before the second set started, a cocky promise that he’d win and you’d be on your knees for him an hour later. That made the stakes higher, you hadn’t sucked him off in over two weeks and the idea of having him in your mouth was really appealing. You gave him a nod back and ushered for him to get back out there.

By the last half of set two you were tired of tennis ball green. You were tired of following it back and forth with your eyes. And you were really damn tired of Tucker. Somehow he had gotten better in the second set and was proving more of a competition to your poor Alex. You decided that even if he didn’t win you’d still suck his dick because he was putting up a really good fight.

You felt your heart sink when Tucker matched him at 5-5, you couldn’t let Alex lose to some posh boy with an ugly name. As if Alex could sense your nerves he turned around and gave you a thumbs up, letting you know that he had a plan. God you hoped he had a plan

In anxiety you began to down your water bottle, trying to distract yourself from the racing thoughts and the dull throb in your panties that always seemed to appear when he played. You were so distracted by the water that you almost missed the announcer making it known that the winner was Alex Turner, your Alex Turner.

‘Thank fuck’ was the thought in both you and Alex’s mind. You put your bottle down and ran to him, him pulling you into a tight kiss and covering your hair with kisses. He smelled like sweat and body spray, but he had still won. Proud was an understatement. You were always proud of him and you had been watching him win games for 8 years at this point.

He cradled you softly for a while, just savoring the moment. You could hear Tucker give a post match interview in the background but you couldn’t pick up on the words, he was probably complaining that he had lost.

“You gonna talk to these suckers?” You asked him, gesturing at the reporters behind you with raised eyebrows. You would’ve understood if he did, but also you kinda wanted to get to the blowjob part of the agreement. Alex looked at the swarm of them, most that he had already talked to. He considered it but ended up shaking his head, giving you a sly smirk.

“Nah, you’re the only sucker I want.” He teased, hand lingering around your ass. You laughed at his crude suggestions, but you also couldn’t complain. He took your hand and led you off the court, past all the other players lounging around, and into the locker room.

“Here?” You asked, a bit worried about a list of things. There were probably other boys in there first of all, and it probably smelled. You liked a lot about Alex but the smell of athletic teenage boy was not one of them. Alex peeked his head into the locker room to check and shook his head.

“No one else is here, won’t be for a while. Trust me girlie.” And then before you could speak he dragged you into a shower stall, pressing you against the wall and digging his hands into you ass.

“I won.” He whispered against your neck, his hands starting to trail up your body until they reached the hem of your shirt.

“You did win.” You responded, moving your own hands to help him pull your shirt off. You couldn’t tell if he was beaming in pride at his accomplishment or just really happy to see your boobs. You decided on the latter when he pushed your sports bra off too.

“Fuck, so glad I won so you could do this. Love your mouth, love you.” He groaned out, helping you shift onto your knees. The floor was hard, slimy, and uncomfortable on your knees. But that didn’t matter when his bulge was right in front of your face. You slid his shorts and boxers down to his ankles in one quick move, needing to see his cock free.

“I’ll tell you a secret…” you started, wrapping a hand around his base and causing him to groan, “I would’ve done this even if you had lost. You put up a very good fight.” As silly as your words sounded, you made sure to say them with the most seductive tone you knew how to do, looking up at him through your lashes before you darted your tongue out to kitten lick at him.

He leaned against the shower wall instantly, lacing his hand in your hair as he exhaled. He loved your tongue, he loved the little routine you always had when sucking him off. You gave him a few pumps, placing kisses and small licks around the head until you knew he was too worked up. He seemed to be needier today than he usually was, just a few licks and he was already starting to buck his hips.

You took that as your sign to wrap your lips around him and start to push him down your throat, his eyes rolling back shut at the feeling of your warm throat. You were his first blowjob and he was certain you’d be his last blowjob, he was utterly addicted to the feeling of your throat. You think you were addicted to the feeling of his cock down your throat too. He was such a responsive boy and you loved the way you could almost feel him twitch in your mouth.

You set a purposely teasing rhythm; you’d move forward when he breathed in and move backwards when he breathed out. It took him a second to realize why he was holding his breath, shaking his head at you.

“Please just-,” he groaned as he grabbed onto your hair, starting to move you himself. You didn’t mind the display of dominance, it was hot that he needed you that bad. And plus, the focus was usually on your place. He deserved to be the one seeing stars for once. He set the pace he wanted, somewhere in between fast and slow. Your mouth felt so full with him, he was making sure he took up all your senses. If anyone would’ve walked in they certainly would’ve heard the two of you; his loud groans and the sounds of choking coming from your throat. Neither of you knew anymore if you were alone, too involved in the actions.

When the twitching in his dick started to speed up he pulled you off, staring at you with lust-blown eyes.

“Where should I cum?” He asked, voice husky and breath still needing to be catched. Your brain was a bit fuzzy so you had to think for a second, you’d usually say your tits because you know he likes to see you covered in him but you still had to walk back to the hotel.

“Mouth.” You decided on, giving him big eyes and a big nod. He gave another groan at just how erotic the words sounded coming from your mouth and then pushed you back on his cock, picking up the pace.

To give him that extra, final edge you reached out to gently kneed his balls between your fingers, it was clear he liked this the way he thrusted at you. Thank god for your lack of gag reflex from the sheer amount of times you’ve sucked him off, you were used to deepthroating him at this point. He started to thrust with his hips and move you with his hand, movements becoming quick and fast.

His loud moan was the only warning you got before he spilled in your throat, his cum coating every wall of your mouth. He pulled out and grabbed onto a bar in the shower, trying to keep his legs from giving out. His eyes never left yours, he was waiting to see if you’d swallow. You didn’t really have a chance though, it was so deep enough in your mouth that spitting would be a hassle. Plus you liked the taste, it was a bit salty but it tasted like him. It was complete and utter Alex in your mouth. You swallowed with no complaint.

“You can’t do that you damn minx!” He giggled, still trying to catch his breath. You giggled back and he offered a hand to help you up, you were sure you could see the imprints of the tile on your knees.

“Well, maybe you should stop being so talented and winning all your games.” You bent down to grab your top and sports bra, they were slightly damp from the shower floor but you’d live. It was only 10 minutes to the hotel.

When you both had finished getting your bearings back he grabbed your hand, rushing you out of the shower to act like nothing happened. No one would ever know you were in there. He grabbed your hand and started walking you out.

“I need a nap.” He admitted, looking at you with a soft smile. He didn’t even have to ask anymore if you were going to nap with him. Of course you were.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You chuckled and gave his hand a quick squeeze, your eyes drifting to the court you’d be playing in the next morning.

“You know… win that for me and I’ll return the favor. And then we’ve both won so I’ll get to fuck you senseless.” He said bluntly, causing you to both blush and give a small laugh.

“I know. I’m anticipating it.” You winked at him, squeezing his hand again. You weren’t particularly worried about your opponent tomorrow, she wasn’t that great. Right now you were worried about cuddling up with him in bed, right now you were happy to be with him even if there was probably a camera following you.

Well, maybe you should’ve been more worried about your opponent. It turns out Vanessa Forester from Wales had been practicing her ass off. You were able to hold her off for the first set, but in the most embarrassing turn of events possible your knees were starting to kill you and you lost the second. God damn Alex.

When you were given the chance for a break before the third you quite literally poured your water bottle down your throat. The sweat had started to run into uncomfortable places and you were sure you looked like you had fallen into the river. You looked up at Alex, who you’re sure had already noticed you were lacking, who was snickering at your current state. Little bitch. You rolled your eyes at him, pointed down at your kneecaps, and flipped him off. That seemed to put him in his place as he suddenly looked a lot smaller in his seat.

You took a second to stretch and got back in your place, it was Vanessa’s serve. Your breath was trying to steady itself and you were trying to keep focused, all you could hope is that the adrenaline stopped the dull ache in your legs.

Thankfully it did, once you saw how determined Vanessa was the idea of winning crowded the rest of your thoughts. The back and forth became tantalizing, your eyes focused on nothing but that blur of neon flying between both sides of the court. The game was getting closer and closer and you were starting to grunt everytime you hit the ball. If it wasn’t for the game itself you probably would’ve passed out.

There was a quiet reminder of the score in the back of your head but you tuned that out to focus on the game, you had always told yourself that if you were too focused on the score then you wouldn’t remember your skills.

That worked, you guessed, because eventually a whistle was blown and you were crowned the winner. The adrenaline was still clogging your ears and your vision was still blurry so you didn’t even notice Alex coming down the stands to hug you. His arms enveloped you, your own arms wrapping around him to support your failing legs. He pushed your head up and wiped some of the sweat off your brows.

“Jesus… that was hell…” your voice came out breathy and tired. Alex could sense you didn’t want to talk to reporters either so he started to lead you back to the hotel.

“Yeah, hard game I could tell,” he starts, placing a few small kisses on your moist forehead, “but you still kicked its ass. You won.” His words brought a gentle reassurance into your head, you had won and you didn’t have another game to play. You would just be able to go back to the hotel and crash. You hummed against Alex’s shoulder and he continued to drag you to the hotel.

It was a nice hotel you had been given to stay in, there was a heated pool and a spa you had been meaning to check out. The room was spacious and the bed (you and Alex had fought for one bed instead of two) was comfortable. You couldn’t wait to shower and then crash out.

He got you inside and you smiled at him, starting to walk towards the shower.

“Wait-” he called out, making you turn around to raise an eyebrow at him, “I thought we were going to-” he didn’t finish his sentence. He got shy and started to rub the back of his head.

Oh right, the “reward.” You had won and that meant he got to eat you out and then you got to fuck. The idea sounded nice, but... after your shower. You loved him, and he had seen you in every capacity, but you still weren’t sure about him actually tasting your sweat.

“After my shower, I’m so fucking sweaty.” You admitted to him, wiping your hand through your eyebrows to really show him. Alex just kind of nodded and smiled at you, letting you do what you needed to.

The shower was nice; you didn’t feel slimy anymore, and some of the aches in your muscles were gone. You pulled a towel around your body and walked back into the bedroom. Alex was already perched on the bed, a shy smile and blush appearing on his face when you walked in. It was funny to see him this way when just last afternoon he was fucking your face in a shower stall. You sat down next to him, and he shifted closer to you.

“Are you sore?” You nodded; you were still a little sore, and you wanted him to go gentle. Sometimes you could get rough, but after a game you just wanted to lay down and have him take you.

He looked like he was about to say something else when you pulled him in for the kiss, attaching your lips against his. He was such a good kisser, always confident and sensitive in the way his lips mashed against yours. His tongue gently traced across your bottom lip, asking you for permission to take this a step further. You granted what he wanted, and you both parted your lips to deepen the kiss.

He brought his hand up to tangle into your hair, pulling you closer. He wanted you to feel safe and warm in his presence; he wanted to make you feel like the winner you were, just the way you did for him yesterday. In a single motion, you removed the towel from your body. That made this all easier—no messy clothes to take off.

He pushed you back on the bed so your head was against the pillow and started to trail his lips across your body, kissing every part of you that was sore from the day. A heat swirled in your lower stomach, and you let out a few brief moans at the feeling of his lips. He situated himself so he had easy access to your core. He wasn’t going to touch you yet but wanted an idea of the proper position to be in.

His lips continued to trail down your body; he grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on every single one of your fingers.

“You won with this hand. This is a winner's hand,” he mused, like just your arm was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He worked his way back up to your collarbone, sucking a small mark into the flesh there. “This damn body, you couldn’t have won without it.” His words would be cheesy if they weren’t turning you on so badly; it felt nice to be appreciated so intimately.

Without speaking, he wrapped his lips around your puffy nipple, making you wiggle and moan against him. He lapped around your breasts, breath heavy like he was the one getting pleasure from this. Every so often he’d suck into them, leaving small pink marks that were just for him to see.

“They’re your trophies,” he remarked with a small grin, pulling back to admire his work. You giggled at this, and he acted like it wasn’t the stupidest thing to say. It was, but it was also cute. He was always like this, your boy. He looked at them for a second longer and then down at your pooling heat, a smirk appearing on his face.

“I’m going to eat you out now,” he declared. And then he did it; he buried his face right into your cunt. The second he made contact, you let out a high-pitched whine, arching your back right into his face. He kissed and licked at your folds, taking you in like you were his favorite glass of wine. You brought your hand down to tangle into his hair, pulling him closer.

“Fuck! Alex! You’re so good!” You cried out, making him smirk against your cunt. He moved up just slightly to place a few kisses along your clit, the sensation causing goosebumps to trickle down your spine. All he wanted to do was make you feel good, and it was obvious he was doing that right now, so he kept at it. He created a pattern where he’d go between licking into your hole, slurping the skin of your folds, and sucking at your clitoral. It was absolutely obscene, but maybe the best thing you had ever felt. Your mind was already a bit hazy from the day, and he was just intensifying it. You’re sure that words you weren’t even aware of were tumbling from your lips.

He fucked you with his tongue like it was his dick; after all the time you had spent together, he knew every little move to make you come apart on his mouth. You kept your hand in his hair, making him stay as close to you as possible. He wasn’t allowed to pull away, not when he felt this good. He just pushed and pushed at all your senses until you were satisfied.

It seemed that the stress of the day had really made you wound up because you were already close. Alex must’ve noticed that because he started to budge his nose against your swollen clit as his tongue swirled around your hole. The added simulation drove you insane, with high-pitched noises coming out of your mouth while you shook around him.

It took only a second before it all became too much, and you came all over him, waves of pleasure taking over your whole body. Your back arched and fell back down just as fast, all of the stress of the day releasing directly from your body. Alex’s face must’ve been covered in your juices, but he loved that. He loved the amount of pleasure he had just brought you. You were still shaking a bit, but he brought his face up to kiss you on the lips; you could almost taste yourself against him.

“That good?” He asked gently, running a comforting hand down your stomach to soothe your hyperactive muscles. You nodded a few times, reaching over to grab the bottle of water from earlier this morning.

“That was good, goddamn. I don’t think my knees hurt anymore.” You both chuckled at this, your breath finally returning to normal. You shut your eyes, the tiredness from the day returning. Alex laid down next to you and ran a hand through your hair, making you smile at him.

“Do you want to go to sleep?” He asked gently, pulling you a little closer and pressing a kiss against your temple.

You weren’t going to respond, but you felt his hardness pressing against your back a bit, a reminder of the second half of your deal.

“But don’t you need to?” he cut you off, shaking his head.

“No, it’ll go down. You won, and now you deserve to sleep. We’ll fuck later when you’re less tired; it’ll be better anyway." He reassured you, placing another kiss against your head. You could’ve protested, but he seemed serious, and sleep was already starting to come. You nodded and curled up against him.

“Love you, Alex.”

“Love you too, winner.” You chuckled at this, turning around to look at him.

“You’re a winner too, remember?”

"Oh, I remember, that’s why I get to fuck you later!” He teased, bringing your lips against his for a quick kiss before you shut your eyes again.

A/N: this is shit! i had the first half done and then my power went out and i had to rush the second half in the middle of a library with an old man breathing down my neck!! i tried to write more smut but i got really paranoid with everyone around me in public lmaoo but i wanted to get this out

[agentrouka-blog]

It seems like Dany in book is still having hard time believing that her father was a Mad King who was hated in Westros. When Selmy tried to mention it she stopped him because she didn't like where it was going despite she asked him about it.

That entire scene is so...

(Cut for long quote)

Dany is reading a book of fairytales that she acknowledges are not proper history. (Symbolismmmmm.) But she keeps getting distracted by doubts about herself.

She played at being a queen, yet sometimes she still felt like a scared little girl. Viserys always said what a dolt I was. Was he truly mad? She closed the book. She could still recall Ser Jorah, if she wished. Or send Daario to kill him. Dany fled from the choice, out onto the terrace. She found Rhaegal asleep beside the pool, a green and bronze coil basking in the sun. Drogon was perched up atop the pyramid, in the place where the huge bronze harpy had stood before she had commanded it to be pulled down. He spread his wings and roared when he spied her. There was no sign of Viserion, but when she went to the parapet and scanned the horizon she saw pale wings in the far distance, sweeping above the river. He is hunting. They grow bolder every day. Yet it still made her anxious when they flew too far away. One day one of them may not return, she thought. “Your Grace?” She turned to find Ser Barristan behind her. “What more would you have of me, ser? I spared you, I took you into my service, now give me some peace.” “Forgive me, Your Grace. It was only … now that you know who I am …” The old man hesitated. “A knight of the Kingsguard is in the king’s presence day and night. For that reason, our vows require us to protect his secrets as we would his life. But your father’s secrets by rights belong to you now, along with his throne, and … I thought perhaps you might have questions for me.” Questions? She had a hundred questions, a thousand, ten thousand. Why couldn’t she think of one? “Was my father truly mad?” she blurted out. Why do I ask that? “Viserys said this talk of madness was a ploy of the Usurper’s …” “Viserys was a child, and the queen sheltered him as much as she could. Your father always had a little madness in him, I now believe. Yet he was charming and generous as well, so his lapses were forgiven. His reign began with such promise … but as the years passed, the lapses grew more frequent, until …” Dany stopped him. “Do I want to hear this now?” Ser Barristan considered a moment. “Perhaps not. Not now.” “Not now,” she agreed. “One day. One day you must tell me all. The good and the bad. There is some good to be said of my father, surely?” “There is, Your Grace. Of him, and those who came before him. Your grandfather Jaehaerys and his brother, their father Aegon, your mother … and Rhaegar. Him most of all.” “I wish I could have known him.” Her voice was wistful. “I wish he could have known you,” the old knight said. “When you are ready, I will tell you all.” Dany kissed him on the cheek and sent him on his way. That night her handmaids brought her lamb, with a salad of raisins and carrots soaked in wine, and a hot flaky bread dripping with honey. She could eat none of it. Did Rhaegar ever grow so weary? she wondered. Did Aegon, after his conquest? Later, when the time came for sleep, Dany took Irri into bed with her, for the first time since the ship. But even as she shuddered in release and wound her fingers through her handmaid’s thick black hair, she pretended it was Drogo holding her … only somehow his face kept turning into Daario’s. If I want Daario I need only say so. She lay with Irri’s legs entangled in her own. His eyes looked almost purple today … (ASOS, Daenerys VI)

The whole scene is so utterly rife with Red Flags.

Dany has just commited a(nother) massacre, made herself Supreme Leader Until I Move On and banished Jorah for his past spying. She (correctly) surmises that she is overwhelmed and questions her suitability for the job of ruling. She questions her family's sanity.

She wants to avoid what those questions imply. Out on the terrace, she sees Drogon doing his best Replacement Harpy impression (symbolismmmmm) while another one is off hunting boldly (surely nothing bad can come of that behavior in the near future...) and...

A glimpse of hope! A dude with unique personal information about her family appears and offers to share it! Perhaps that uncomfortable feeling can return into focus and be addressed?

Nah.

AND THEN the guy goes "You know what? You're totally right. This isn't really relevant or urgent. Nothing about your family history is alarming enough to question your path in general. Your brother was AWESOME btw."

Barristan, even if he had told her things, would never have helped her come to uncomfortable conclusions because he is the worst kind of hypocritical sycophant for a) any monarch he happens to be serving at the time, and b) House Targaryen in particular. The conversation they are putting off... would not have been useful anyway.

So a placated Dany returns the focus on herself and her feelings, but validated, and her next move is to turn the "this must never happen again" incident with her "not a sex slave" Irri into "actually, time to honorable serve your khaleesi like a sex toy while she fantasizes about other people". People who remind her of her family and their Valyrian looks.

She is burrowing into her Targaryen identity in ways she hadn't even done before, taking liberties with her power that she had shied away from before. Her yelp review will be underwhelming. "Her kisses tasted of duty". Because that's what it was. Dany doesn't care.

She ends up making a choice the next morning.

“My city,” said Dany. “I was looking for a house with a red door, but by night all the doors are black.”

And it is a reasonable choice on the surface, that finally has her standing fast to accept a sense of responsibility for the outcomes of her actions here.

But already we see how the missing context of Westerosi history is distorting her understanding, and Barristan bolstered this. Because she creates a difference where there isn't one.

“Aegon the Conqueror brought fire and blood to Westeros, but afterward he gave them peace, prosperity, and justice. But all I have brought to Slaver’s Bay is death and ruin. I have been more khal than queen, smashing and plundering, then moving on.” “There is nothing to stay for,” said Brown Ben Plumm. “Your Grace, the slavers brought their doom on themselves,” said Daario Naharis. “You have brought freedom as well,” Missandei pointed out. “Freedom to starve?” asked Dany sharply. “Freedom to die? Am I a dragon, or a harpy?” Am I mad? Do I have the taint? “A dragon,” Ser Barristan said with certainty. “Meereen is not Westeros, Your Grace.” “But how can I rule seven kingdoms if I cannot rule a single city?” He had no answer to that. Dany turned away from them, to gaze out over the city once again. “My children need time to heal and learn. My dragons need time to grow and test their wings. And I need the same. I will not let this city go the way of Astapor. I will not let the harpy of Yunkai chain up those I’ve freed all over again.” She turned back to look at their faces. “I will not march.” “What will you do then, Khaleesi?” asked Rakharo. “Stay,” she said. “Rule. And be a queen.”

Dany sees a difference between dragon and harpy that the earlier image of Drogon in the harpy's place already shows us is a false dichotomy. She imagines prosperity and peace in the aftermath of Aegon's invasion where he created no such thing. She is concerned with her sanity and suitability to rule, so she will stay temporarily to test herself on this city of human beings.

The human children must heal and learn. Her dragons need to grow and fly.

Dany needs the same, she says. The same as her dragons, not the same as her children. There will be little healing and learning. But we will see her fly off on Drogon, ecstatic, while the people of her city burn below.

It was never going to end any other way, because "if I look back I am lost" is her curse. She is not interested in the facts, because they hinder her fantasy of the red door. But she will also never get facts because there is no one who would give them to her.

She prefers a book of fairytales over a proper history and she will begin to forget there's a difference.

[daisyofwaterdeep]

Can you please write more soft cock zevlor? 👉👈 maybe with a male reader?? If thas not much to ask..... (Also thanks for ypur service to the society)

IT WOULD BE MY ABSOLUTE PLEASURE

Zevlor/cismasc!Reader

!NSFW!

-When you have sparring sessions with Zevlor, you always feel a spark between the two of you. Intense, lingering eye contact. Playful smiles. And when it's done, the hand on your back congratulating you for a job well done tends to linger far too long.

-But this session is different. It's more visceral, more teasing. Every word that Zevlor says spikes your adrenaline and coils heat in your stomach.

-"Come on, harder!" as you swing at him, "I can take it, so give it to me." Your cock is getting stiff as you continue swinging, the both of you starting to pant with strain, "Harder, that's it--harder, just like that!"

-Perhaps a bit too roughly, you knock the sword from his hand and are immediately on him. The flirting has finally reached it's boiling point, and you can't hold back and play naive any more.

-You grind your throbbing cock against his groin, the both of you breathing hard into each other's mouths.

-"Is this hard enough for you?" You ask, dropping your own sword to grab Zevlor's hips and pull him tightly against you, making sure he feels just how much he's worked you up.

-Zevlor seems like he's been expecting this all along, kissing you rough. It's hurried and desperate, like Zevlor's been holding back just as much as you have.

-You can feel that Zevlor isn't hard yet and try to rut into him to get him there, but instead, he steps back from you. You think he's about to cut this all off and say that it's a mistake, but instead he turns and places his hands on a tree, his tail thwipping against the ground excitedly

-If that doesn't make the invitation clear enough, Zevlor unfastening his pants and shucking them down is about as clear as things could get. You're behind him in an instant, grabbing handfuls of his taut ass and kissing the side of his neck

-But when you reach around to stroke his cock, a calloused but gentle hand grabs your wrist. "Don't worry about that," Zevlor breathes, "Just take me."

-It's clear that he's uncomfortable about his dick for some reason, so you don't push it. Instead, you kiss his neck again, letting your hands slip under his shirt to caress at the hard ridges of his ribs

-"Lube?" You ask, grinding your clothed cock against his ass

-"I've, ahh--" Zevlor arches his back as you nip at his neck, "I've already taken care of it," His tail wraps around your waist, pulling you closer, "So fuck me already."

-Your mind reels as you fumble your pants open. What does he mean that he took care of it?

-You only have to wonder for a moment, because as soon as you slide your cock between his ass cheeks you feel that his hole is already soft and slick with lubricant. You groan into his ear and ask him if he fingered himself before this

-"A good soldier is always prepared." You can't see his face, but you can hear the smile in his voice

-Knowing that he was expecting to be fucked by you is driving you wild. You pant out apologies as you inch into the impossible heat of him, your muscles twitching with the need to slam in but resisting as best as you can

-"I can take it," Zevlor groans, reaching a hand behind him to grab your hip, "So give it to me."

-Hearing him parrot back the words from your sparring earlier makes you laugh, and then buck your hips. "Like this?" Your cock pries him open, making both of you moan and pant

"J...just like that-" You can see the muscles of Zevlor's back flex as you begin pumping into him, "Fuck, just like that..."

-It's amazing. Zevlor's hole is impossibly hot and tight around you, and the sounds he grunts out with each thrust makes your head swim. There's no way you're gonna last long like this

-You know that you're going to cum in the next few pumps--the heat in your core is building to a manic degree, and your thrusts are getting faster and sloppier

-Instinctively, you reach around Zevlor and grab his cock to stroke him, hoping to bring him to completion too

-"N- wait, ahh--" Zevlor's body tightens and his hands grab yours, but they don't pull you away.

-His cock is still soft. You slow your hips before stopping altogether, feeling like a monster for being so greedy and inconsiderate

-"Don't..." Zevlor moves back against you, slowly fucking himself on your cock, "Don't stop...feels good, promise..."

-You wouldn't believe him if it weren't for the sheer amount of precum oozing from his tip. The sticky-slick fluid steadily leaks into your hand as Zevlor finds a quicker pace and arches his back, groaning and shivering as he finds his prostate with the head of your cock

-Understanding dawns on you. It explains why he didn't want you to touch him earlier. But with that realization comes a fierce adoration. To you, signs of age aren't anything to be ashamed of. It's something worthy of admiration--a testament to all you've been through. You've always loved the signs of Zevlor's age-- the thickness of his horns, the creases around his eyes, the faded scars along his chest. This is certainly no exception.

-You pull Zevlor tight to your chest, grinding into his prostate as quick and hard as you can, peering over his shoulder to hungrily watch his soft cock swing with your thrusts. Thick strands of precum dangle and fall messily from him, all the while Zevlor's moans grow higher and tighter-- he's getting close

-Your muscles burn as you fuck him with everything you have, your eyes fighting to not roll closed as you threaten to fall into your orgasm

-And then you see it-- The clear slickness of Zevlor's precum turns white and it drools thickly from his tip as he whines deep and gravelly in his throat. The sight and sound alone would've been enough to push you over the edge, if you weren't already there

-You ride out your orgasm, burying yourself deep in Zevlor's ass as you fill him with hot pumps of your cum. You could have stayed there behind him for an eternity, just relishing in the feeling of his strong back and tight ass, but kissing him is far more important in that moment

-You turn him around and lock him into a kiss, grinding your cocks together-- yours twitching and slowly softening, and his still steadily leaking

-"Fuck," You breathe into his mouth between a kiss, "I love you..."

-You feel Zevlor's muscles tighten at that, but after a moment he melts into your arms, a happy hum rumbling in his chest

[lacetop]

you shudder through the last shocks of your orgasm, stetching luxuriously into the cushions propping you up and groaning in satisfaction. the long twining tongues stroking you press firm and steady as the pulses fade, just how you like it. the tips are flicking at where you're most sensitive, an eager offer to its master of more. 

you could have another, you think, propping yourself up to look down your body at the creature obediently lapping at you. 

its dark eyes are unfocused and rolling, lost in the ecstasy of service. the expression on its pale face is completely open, completely unconscious to anything at all except the will and the pleasure of its master on its tongues. yes, you could have another several like that. 

it whines, beseeching. the sound is like buckling metal. you reach down into its hair and twist, and it shows you the whites of its eyes with a blissful creak.

it's holding itself perfectly, obediently still. with its maw held wide open, the creature's tangle of curving, jutting fangs frame your flesh swollen red and throbbing. the tips of eager points just barely divot into your skin, as close as it can obediently be and reaching its tongues out for your use, drunk on your warmth.

"good pet," you tell it, and it shamelessly humps the pillow you placed under its hips. "good little leech. you want some, huh?"

its wide eyes snap into focus, searching your face with a wild, wordless desperation. you tilt your hip, pressing your thigh closer into to a snarl of teeth.

"beg."

it bats its long, dark lashes and shivers and lets out a piteous wail, grinding low tones scraping against a whistling shriek. the pathetic display, with eyes rolling and hips juttering, makes you throb, and you indulgently stroke at yourself into its open jaws.

"horrid creature. you're lucky i'm here to take care of you. keep you safe and feed you--"

it whines and flicks its tongues at where its pointed teeth divot into your skin. 

"there, there. i've got you."

with a shift of your hip the curved edge of a cruel fang finally slices past your skin. bright red wells up from the shallow cut and the creature lets out a gutteral exclamation of need and relief. it grips tight to the pillow it's rutting into, and its tongues do their best to burrow into your opened flesh.

"still," you warn it sternly, your breath coming in harsh pants. 

you smear your spilt blood over your stiff cock, and it tracks the movement of your hand with rapt attention, still as a statue. 

"good."

sighing through the pain, you lean into its open maw again, slightly deepening the cut. red runs down its fang, flowing freely into its obedient mouth, and its eyes go vacant with unbearable rapture. you can see its throat working as it swallows, and the pink flush slowly rising on its cheeks. 

"god, you look fucking pathetic. choke on it, you fucking tick."

it flushes deeper and shudders. your blood pools thickly in the back of its throat and it gurgles, tongues soaked and dripping with it. 

"hold." your cock pulses in your fist, that tightening coil building as your strokes become more frantic. "be good, hold for master--"

it gags on your lifeblood with a look of rapturous adoration in its wide eyes, and with a harsh "fuck," you streak its face and teeth and tongues with cum. as you wring the last pulses that drip over your fist, it licks your fingers clean and whines a wet croak.

"alright, alright," you tell it, suffuse with fondness for the hideous thing. "you can swallow."

its eyes roll as its throat works and it suddenly goes lock still save for the minute pumping of its hips into its pillow.

"ohh, was that good, pet? did that make you come?"

its eyes shift shyly away from your face even as it keeps its maw obediently still. you reach over into the nightstand drawer for a wad of gauze.

"that's alright, dear. i know you can't help it."

its long, bony hands press the gauze to the cut on your thigh and it nuzzles its forehead against your skin, one tongue apologetically tracing the skin of your thigh and the other wiping streaks of red from its face. 

"you took it very well," you tell it, petting a hand through its hair, and it purrs a rusty creak into your skin. 

[sombrashe]

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆kinktober 2024⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

𓉸ྀི i love a man in uniform

𓉸ྀི Valeria Garza

𓉸ྀི content afab!reader, chubby!reader, christianity, church sex, readers religion is unspecified, uniform sex, yuri, bathroom sex, fingering, reader is called a slut

Leaning over you pluck at a button. The person it belonged to tries hard to ignore you. You were sitting in church in the furthest pew. It was a late Monday night so you could count the amount of people attending on one hand. Your hand had been patiently waiting on her thigh for over an hour now. Boredom has taken over you soon after the offerings were collected. It has only gotten worse especially with Valeria sitting there straight and tall clad in her uniform. Lifting your chin your lips barely scrape against her ear.

“Valeria, I’m bored.”

She scowls and squeezes your knee in an attempt to get you to act right. You don’t let up, though, and take a second to lick the shell of her ear.

“I need youuu~”

“We are in The House of God, knock it off.”

“Then take me out back where God isn't watching.”

Slightly turning her head to the side she quietly rasps at you to go take care of yourself. Huffing you shove past her and leave the middle of the sermon. Pushing open the door you enter the broken down bathroom. Disgust floods your features as you stand painfully still in the middle. The door is cracked and you fear touching the handle. Staying a few minutes you contemplate how you would annoy Valeria on your way back to your shared home. A few more minutes and you’ve formulated a plan. Not even a full five minutes later and you're ready to join the service again. Looking back as the door creaks open you're surprised to find her standing there anger brewing in her eyes. Quickly stepping her way into the bathroom she closes the door with a loud click. Another click and you're locked in with the pissed-off woman. Giving her a nervous smile you try to smooth things over. He immediately cuts you off and raises her hand trying to find the words.

“Valeria, this bathroom is disgusting. Let’s just go back.”

“Then you shouldn't have been such a slut.”

She’s found it. With a grunt, you cross your arms in defiance. Closing the already suffocating space in the room she pushes herself against you. She gives you no time to protest or even take in what's going on before her hand is shoved down your jeans. Buttons pop open to allow her more access. Huffing your head bounces off the peeling wall. Letting it rest against the yellow she takes this opportunity to chew at your neck. Two fingers slip their way under your waistband and find a home against your clit. Groaning, you attempt to keep quiet. As much as you want to be obnoxiously loud you know better. You want to cum like this. Those fingers leave their home and slip lower and into your soft core. Humming she sinks her teeth into your collarbone and you yelp in surprise at the intense burning that spreads through your chest. She hushes you as her fingers pick up pace. Clamping your lips closed your eyes water at the lack of pain relief. Pleasure mixed with the pain and you have to squeeze your eyes closed to remain in the moment. Letting her have full control you can only weakly hump against her palm hoping for more friction. She angles her hand so her fingers can still pump deep in you while her thumb presses against your clit, rubbing harshly. Whining softly she works you over for the rest of the sermon. You can feel the coil in your abdomen slowly start breaking as music floods the hallways. A signal that church was nearly over. Huffing the coil finally crashes as a bang is heard outside the small bathroom. The large doors have been opened and you can overhear muffled speaking as your orgasm crashes over you and you're soaking through your underwear. Peeling herself away from you she takes a few moments to wash her hands allowing you the chance to find your composure. A few paper towels in the trash later and she's gently buttoning your jeans and fixing your top enough to look presentable to the pastor. Helping you out of the bathroom she takes a moment to shake the pastor's hand and comment on the lovely ceremony.

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist | Valeria Masterlist

[winterrrnight]

hi! i was wondering if you could write relationship headcanons about zach maclaren from the other zoey? 🫶😊

I just have so many zach thoughts all the time because he's literally my dream boyfriend. thank you for this request anon!! I hope you love reading this <3

dating zach maclaren

— zach maclaren hearcanons

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warning: mention of accidently cutting while cooking

Zach is just about the most perfect boyfriend you could ever have.

His love language is quality time. No matter what, he will always find time in his schedule to spend with you.

He comes over to your place often, mostly surprising you because you weren't expecting him, but slowly over the course of time you get used to his random pop ins.

He loves to sit down with you and just, talk. About anything. He will listen to your rants, about what you ate today, a shitty day at your university, basically anything.

And he'll be listening very carefully, not missing any detail, and if you're ranting about something which is troubling you, he'll try to help you and almost 9 out of 10 times his advice is the best one you can get.

He'll take you to dates often, and he's definitely the kind of person who'll just take you on a long drive so you both can just listen and sing to your favorite album together.

Without a thought, I believe he has a second love language too, and that is acts of service.

You're hungry? He'll whip the best meal for you in under 15 minutes.

Your car has a flat tire? He'll fix that for you right up.

You accidentally cut yourself while making some food? He'll bandage you just the next second.

His family adores you, so you are often invited at family dinners at their place, and you always love to go.

Avery, his little sister, gets attached to you quickly and looks at you like her best friend.

You and Zach are the best team basically, anywhere.

If it's family game night at his place, you know you both will win.

If it's a game night with your friends, you both are going to win, it's decided.

I've said this before, and I'll say it again, Zach loves to kiss your hands; your palms, your knuckles, the back of your hand, he'll press kisses to your skin often.

He's also the most amazing book boyfriend ever. His gifts to you are mostly books, and they are definitely the books from your 'to be read'.

Since he's a part of his university soccer team, you absolutely love to go to his matches.

He will be pretty anxious before them, but a quick pep talk from you will cheer him right up, and he'll play with all his might.

You are always wearing a jersey with his name and number on it, he gives one to you each time his team wins a match (you have so many now it's hard to keep count).

Just as his team wins a match, you cheer out so loud for him, and he's quick to run up to you and hug you so tightly.

"I'm so proud of you," you will whisper to him, and he'll just melt on the spot.

You both don't argue very often, usually settling to talk out the misunderstanding and find a solution that suits you both.

But if the quarrel doesn't seem to find it's end and just goes on, Zach knows he hates being in this position, especially when it leads to him having to sleep in a different room than yours.

But your sheets are cold and empty, and you know you need him.

You would make your way to the room he's in, and he's lying in the bed, all coiled up because he also finds your absence to be cold.

You will snuggle in next to him and press a kiss on his arm, mumbling a 'sorry' as you realise how ridiculous your argument was.

His response would be to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you in impossibly closer.

But there's one thing he can't help you with, and that is studying.

He is the worst study buddy to have. He can't sit silently, he can't focus on his work for more than 15 minutes, so what is the next obvious thing to do?

Annoy you, of course.

He's tapping your arm to tell you the worst dad jokes ever, or to just distract you.

"But, I love you so much baby!"

"Shut up Zach."

You always accompany his family to their yearly winter ski trip. You learnt how to ski with them and now you're a pro.

You always have huge snowball fights with Zach, which always end in him picking you up and dropping you both on the ground as you try to stop laughing.

You would also make a huge snowman with him, and naming him 'Burt' because he said so and you can't convince him.

To sum it up, I think of Zach Maclaren as Phil Dunphy.

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