#I can't go back I can't go back I can't go back I can't go back I can't go back I can't go back I can't go back

[krc-krc]

Divorce is the LEAST destructive way of parting ways if people don't work out, regardless of how they got together. I'd rather people divorce, than e.g. kill each other or themselves because they won't/can't

i love divorce i love when people realize that they aren't a good fit for each other and get divorced about it. more people should get divorced

[f1lovr]

SILLY SUPERSTITIONS | LN4

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

summary: the one where she doesn't believe in superstitions or otherwise known as he can't get into the car without his pre-race kiss

warnings: none!

Y/N didn't believe in superstitions, rather she thought they were stupid, lando on the other hand, he was a firm believer.

it had started as a joke between you both.

"kiss in exchange for a podium?" you had told him in a teasing manner, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before the race.

"guess we'll figure that out soon enough," he had said in response, a smirk dawning his face as you could feel the confidence coming from him.

he finished in second that race, he had insisted it was your kiss and from there he refused to get into the car until he got a kiss from you, saying he wouldn't do well or he couldn't drive without it, as if it would make him a better driver.

that led to here, minutes away from lando having to get into the car, you nowhere in sight.

the mechanics and engineers were rushing around him, last minute checks on the car, making sure everything was good before the race. the cheer of the fans from the stands as they wait for the impending race.

but lando couldn't focus, not on the race ahead of him, not even on the sounds around him, because you weren't there and he needed you to be because he hadn't gotten his kiss yet.

lando's leg was bouncing up and down nervously as his head scanned the surrounding area looking for any sign of you. his mind being consumed with thoughts about where you could be, about the fact that he might have to go into today's race without you, without his good luck kiss.

his mutters to himself broke his silence, "where is she?"

jon, his trainer, who was next to him turned and looked at him with furrowed brows as he heard the muttering coming from the driver, "who?"

lando's head turned to jon, a look being shot at his trainer as if his answer was obvious, "Y/N, i need her here but i don't know where she is."

jon smirked at lando's answer, "ah, so you mean you need your lucky charm?"

lando didn't deny jon's comment, his eyes only rolling in response, "she should be here by now, she's never this late," he mutters nervously.

jon's eyes fall to the watch at his wrist checking the time, "you've got three minutes mate."

he had three minutes. three minutes to somehow find you in the chaos that is the race or he'd have to go get in the car and race without the one thing that kept him from botching it turn one.

he was about to get up and leave when his ears perked up at a voice, not just a voice, but your voice.

"looking for me pretty boy?"

he could have gotten whiplash with how fast he had turned his head, watching as you walk up to, nothing but a casual nature in your step as if you didn't know the chaos you had caused with your absence.

"baby where the hell have you been?" he all but demanded.

"easy tiger, i got stuck, security guards and journalists kept harping on me. all of them acting like i was infiltrating the FIA instead of just trying to get to my boyfriend," you giggle with a grin, his reaction to your disappearance amusing.

lando didn't care, he could care less about why you weren't here actually, it was all just excuses to him. but you were here now and that was all that mattered to him as his hand grabbed your wrist pulling you close to him, the glances that were being thrown his way being ignored.

"i almost had to go into the race without you," he mutters, a tone so low that only you were able to pick it up.

"you wouldn't have let that happen," your hands coming to his shoulders as you smirk.

lando huffed as his lips twitched, the smile he was trying to hold back failing to stay hidden, "you have never been more right about something love."

next thing you know he was pulling you into a kiss, the kiss being soft and gentle but still firm. he didn't rush his kiss, taking the reassurance it provided as he let himself calm down from the storm of not having you.

he pulled away with a grin on his face, "now i won't crash turn one," he said with a chuckle.

your head shook as you laughed, "whatever makes you sleep at night pretty boy," you giggle out.

your moment was broken by the call of lando's engineer, letting lando know it was time to get in the car.

you watched as he let go of your hand with a sigh after giving it one last parting squeeze, reluctantly stepping back from you as he moved to climb into his car.

you were leaned against the garage watching as he settled. you could tell he was focused, he was ready, and you would never let him live it down if he got on the podium, reminding him over and over that it was your kiss that got him there.

did you actually believe that? no, definitely not, but if it meant more pre-race kisses and it helped him, then you'd remind him over and over.

[prokopetz]

"But doesn't having a notion of 'balanced' combat inherently imply that all combat encounters are expected to be fair and winnable" well, no – it implies only that the GM has the ability to know whether a given combat encounter is fair and winnable.

There's a story that's been going around for decades about a Dungeons & Dragons party who encountered a large room full of treasure while exploring a dungeon. Immediately suspicious, they asked their GM a series of detailed questions about the room, but no obvious dangers were identified. Satisfied, they moved into the room – and were immediately set upon and eaten by the dragon that had been sitting atop the pile of treasure the whole time, which the GM hadn't mentioned because the players never specifically asked about the presence of living creatures within the room.

While this is obviously an extreme and ridiculous case, it illustrates an important point: as GM, you're the group's eyes and ears. If you don't describe something, the player characters literally can't see it – that dragon was effectively invisible from their perspective. The trick is that active malice isn't the only way to invisible-dragon your players; a group can also find themselves invisible-dragoned because the GM simply failed to provide sufficient information for the risk in question to be identified. This can happen through neglect, but it can also happen because the GM themself was unaware that the risk was present.

Now, hold on, you might be saying: the GM "plays" the entire world. How is it possible for the GM not to know that a risk is present? Well, that brings us back around to the subject of combat balance.

A game in which "balanced" combat is a meaningful thing to discuss is typically going to be one in which both the players and the GM are actually making strategic, tactical, and/or logistical decisions, rather than merely producing a description of their characters making such decisions. Without a good handle on the interplay of these decisions, it's completely possible for the GM to be wrong about the level of risk the scenario they've constructed entails.

That's actually pretty critical, because even if you don't care about the game being fair and winnable (and that's a perfectly valid stance), your players are still depending on you to be their eyes and ears, and to give them enough information to make good decisions about whether the fight in front of them is one they can win. A game where not every fight is expected to be winnable needs to be a game where the players have the opportunity to walk away.

No matter how objective you try to be, your own sense of the answer to that question is inevitably going to colour how you communicate about it. You being wrong about the level of risk at hand inherently increases the chance that your players will make bad choices. The party eating a TPK because they made a stupid decision is one thing; the party eating a TPK because they made a decision that looked reasonable from their perspective based on your unwitting miscommunication of the level of risk involved is quite another!

Sure, once the dice hit the table I'm probably going to realise that I fucked up, and I can adjust things on the fly to bring the level of risk that's actually present in line with the level of risk I communicated – but that's extra work I don't need with everything else that's on my plate. And that's a best-case scenario; if I'm running the game for a hardcore let-the-dice-fall-where-they-may group (and such groups tend to have a pretty significant overlap with groups that are cool with not every fight being winnable), I may not be able to adjust the fight's parameters on the fly without violating the social contract of the table.

Basically, whenever I see an OSR game with tactically crunchy combat brag about how its author never even thinks about "balance", what that's telling me is that running this game is going to create a whole lot of extra work for me as a GM. This is not a selling point.

[sevenheaven7011]

Emmrich is an absolute baddie

Somehow people are confused that Emmrich was a popular LI option. Lemme break it down:

- Man is FIT. He isn’t Davrin-level muscle, but man had no problem rolling around, wielding powerful magic AND boomshakalaking Rook until they were too worn-out to wake up at least the same time as him?

- EVERY outfit is on point. It’s like every suit, shirt and pants he has have been altered for his figure, even if you set aside the likely pricey quality of the fabrics. Speaking of…

- Jewels. Gold. Everywhere on his person. It’s a miracle he hasn’t been robbed in broad daylight.

- Incredibly educated. He is a professor truly dedicated to teaching his best, shown by how he’s surprised he would be taking 10 students which is a small class size by most standards. He writes books. He has enough vocabulary to sweeten his flirting even more without seeming overly cheesy. He knows enough fancy art to recognise Viago’s collection by sight, and explain why Orlesian art loves gold.

- Unapologetically himself. It could be the ‘tism, but one of the most endearing aspects of Emmrich’s personality is how he would happily launch into a seminar-level explanation of his magic and necromancy. He doesn’t deny being a poor child and disliking stuffy nobles. He doesn’t think himself above Hezenkross when he deduced she failed in achieving complete lichdom.

His age is a turn-off for many, but it’s also why he is so charming, having had many opportunities to see through life and death, process many of his experiences, and still find beauty and hope.

[carnalcrows]

MILK YOU DRY - THANOS

pairing: thanos x top male reader

synopsis: This is why you never accept things from people you don't know.

content warnings: 18+, bottom thanos, drug usage, riding, cockwarming, semi-public sex

word count: 0.4k (this is short as fuck lolol)

It all started with one little pill.

"Come on, man. It'll take the edge off," Thanos had said, pressing the tiny thing into your palm with that signature smug smirk. "Consider it a gift. Or an investment."

You had hesitated for all of three seconds before shrugging and dry-swallowing it. Bad decision? Maybe. But you were already knee-deep in the nightmare that was the death game you were currently stuck participating in, so what was one more risk? Plus, Thanos had this way of talking that made everything sound like a good idea, even the objectively stupid ones.

Fast forward fifteen minutes later, and you were absolutely wrecked.

"You're so—you're so soft," you slurred, hands gripping Thanos' waist as he straddled your lap inside a bathroom stall, your cock happily burrowed in his ass. The world was spinning in a fun way, your limbs felt light, and Thanos smelled like cigarette smoke and…vanilla?

"You’re so gone," he snickered, arms slung around your shoulders, his fingers playing with the back of your hair. "Damn, you really can't handle your stuff."

"I can handle you just fine," you shot back, half-lidded eyes locking onto his. That seemed to be the magic phrase because Thanos grinned, leaned in, and kissed you, as he slowly bounced on your cock– the overstimulation and the effects of the pill making your brain go mushy.

It was messy. It was uncoordinated. It was hands roaming where they shouldn’t and teeth clashing because neither of you had enough patience to slow down. Thanos was warm in your lap, your cock in his tight ass grounding you just enough to keep your head from floating off entirely.

"You're kinda hot when you're like this," he murmured against your lips before biting down—hard enough to make you hiss.

"You're kinda a menace," you shot back, fingers digging into his hips, dragging him back onto your length.

The sound of the bathroom door creaking open barely registered at first. But then, a very familiar and exasperated voice filled the stall.

"You have got to be kidding me."

Both of you froze.

Slowly—very slowly—you turned your head. And there, standing in the doorway with an expression of pure disbelief, was Nam-gyu.

Thanos, the absolute menace that he was, didn't even look fazed. If anything, his grin widened as he leaned back, still comfortably perched on your lap. "Hey, Nam-gyu. We were just—"

"I can see what you were just." Nam-gyu pinched the bridge of his nose. "I leave you alone for twenty minutes, and this is what happens?"

You opened your mouth to come up with some kind of excuse, but all that came out was an unhelpful, "Uh."

Nam-gyu exhaled, shaking his head before stepping inside and shutting the stall door behind him. The last thing you saw before exhaustion came over you was the absolutely devilish smirk spreading across his face.

Well. This was gonna be interesting.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

[fandommothfreak]

I think Duke should be immortal in the "cannot die" sense and Jason should be immortal in the "cannot stay dead" sense and that they should keep this a secret from everyone including each other. And then they should both get caught in a situation that Absolutely Should Kill Them Instantly, miraculously not die, and then be like:

Like Jason shields Duke from some massive explosion or something, and Duke is horrified because he thinks Jason just pointlessly sacrificed himself for someone who would've been fine anyway - only for Jason to very casually come back from the dead, look at a completely unscathed Duke Thomas, and go, "Hey, what the fuck."

And Duke should look at a freshly revived Jason Todd and be like, "Me what the fuck? No you what the fuck."

And they end up both agreeing to not say a word about this to the rest of the Bats. Which poses issues. Because here you have a pair of unhinged vigilante siblings that do not fear death, that additionally now know they don't have to fear each other's deaths either, both unwilling to give anything less than everything they have to do what they think is right (and/or what they really, really want to).

So. Some things that happen in consequence:

Duke throws Jason off a fifty-story building in pursuit of some shoplifting rich asshole that was caught on camera insulting Duke's favorite metal band and being a classist fuck about it. This does, incidentally, re-traumatize Nightwing, who was ten feet away and not prepared to see his little brother yeeted off the side of a building, no grapple in sight - but it also traumatizes the shoplifter when Jason lands right in front of him, grotesquely knits himself back together, and rises from the ground in a distinctly horrifying fashion just to beat the shit out of him. So Duke takes the win.

Jason shoots Duke in the head to get him to stop shining light in his eyes in the middle of a gunfight. He does stop, but only because Batman shows up out of nowhere, and now Duke gets to pretend to be grievously injured while Batman yells at Jason about "self-control" and "maturity" and "putting teammates at risk." Meanwhile Duke is playing up this horrible concussion that he doesn't even have. Jason is seething. (Duke gets checked out at Leslie's. They convince her to lie for them by appealing to her inner petty bitch.)

Jason gets his payback a few months later by poisoning himself at an undercover op and subsequently forcing Duke to drag his dead body around a mob-owned nightclub for like half an hour trying to convince seasoned criminals that this brick shithouse of a man sprawled awkwardly across his back is just... really wasted. Totally not a corpse.

Both Jason and Duke get caught in many, many, many explosions after that initial reveal, and it's always terrifying for the rest of the Bats. It gets to a point where Batman refuses to partner Duke and Jason together for literally anything, because they always act fucking insane. Big metal vehicle moving hundreds of miles an hour towards an unsuspecting civilian? That's okay! Jason will just throw Duke in front if it. Unknown, volatile substance potentially being used by a notorious serial killer to murder his victims? No lab testing required! Duke will just pour a whole pint of the stuff on Jason's bare arm to see how it reacts. Bomb that can't be disarmed? Why wait for backup when these two psychopaths can just grab the thing and jump into the harbor? Like, genuinely. The stress. Bruce is one particularly traumatic incident away from actually considering therapy.

[cream1111]

🍎 phone call. . .ᐟᅟ

⠀⎯⎯⠀⠀caleb/mc!reader, 1.6k, incest, somno, dubcon, mutual masturbation, phone sex, pillow humping. @rukii-afterdark , order up! ! part 1

ring ring . . .

you jolt up, eyes popping open before they settle onto your phone, with a groan you pull it closer. squinting  your  sleepy  eyes  at  the  bright  screen, you see the caller's name. caleb. you sigh, it's  1am,  much  later  than  he  usually  calls. you answer and let the phone fall next to your head.

“gege,  why  are  you  calling  so  late?”  you  whine, fighting back a yawn.

“aw,  did  i  wake  you? you sound like you're half asleep”  caleb  sounds teasing but sympathetic, and  slightly  out  of  breath...  maybe  he's  settling  into  bed  himself.

“yeah  a  bit,"  you groan a bit, your annoyed tone remaining playful "but  it's  ok…  what's  up?”  you  ask,  closing  your  eyes,  and  snuggling  back  into  your  bed.  letting  your  phone  rest  on  the  pillow  next  to  your head. 

“it's nothing serious,  i just missed  you,  l⎯”  his  breath  hitches. you  peek  your  eyes  open and  glance  at  your  phone, wondering if the call dropped. you don't have the volume very high, so you're not sure. you  pull  it  closer,  it looks like the call is still going. you press it against your ear.  it's not entirely silent, there's  a  shuffling  sound,  but it's  faint.

“are  you  ok?”  you  murmur,  confused. the shuffling seems to stop, but it's hard to tell under the barely audible droning static his mic is picking up. you let your eyes drift shut again.

“sorry,  yeah,  just,  long  day.”  he  replies  quickly,  his  voice  sounding  more  strained.  “what  about  you?  miss  me?” 

“of  course,  everyday,  you  know  that.” you'd roll your eyes if they weren't already closed. as much as you love talking to caleb, you really are tired. "listen, it's late⎯"

"i know, pipsqueak. i'm sorry for waking you. i just wanted to hear your voice." there's a tinge of urgency to his voice. you would've hurried to hang up if you didn't notice it. it makes you feel a bit guilty. he pauses, you wait to see if he'll say more. "how about this, how about you just go back to sleep but keep me on call. hearing your sleepy breathing always puts me at ease"

is that all?

"you're so cheesy," you tease. then you hum, pretending to think about it. but you're just as bad as he is, you can't ever say no to him. "yeah, fine, but i'm really going to bed, you better not keep talking to me. i won't even answer, i'll just snore"

he let's out a soft chuckle. "that's fine, snore all you like" he replies. "sleep well" he whispers, honey sweet. he's always been so sweet with you.

"goodnight" you mumble, already feeling the drowsiness washing over you. you try to quell the small excitement that caleb even wants to do something so lovey dovey with you. it warms your heart a bit, not that you'd admit it out loud. even though it's not that much of a leap, you've fallen asleep together so many times, something about it feels a little more intimate. that he misses you enough to try and pretend you're both sharing a bed. it makes it easier to pretend he is here, he's home and he's with you, keeping you warm.

your breathing evens out, you almost forget you're on the phone.

. . .

through your sleep you hear something, softly, distant. you focus, waking just a bit. you're alone. but you remember you fell asleep on the phone with caleb. is he talking? something woke you, you're pretty sure. you rouse yourself, focusing, listening.

nothing. it might've been in your dream. though you figure you'll scold him anyways, tell him to keep quiet or you'll mute him. but then you hear it again, clearer now.

"h-hah..."

no way. there's no way, is he⎯

"ah⎯ fuck"

you freeze. a blush heating up your face. you shift closer, turning up the volume as quietly as you can. just to be sure. you hear the sound of something moving, fast, wet. he's...

he's jacking off. it sounds so obvious now. the soft panting, the rhythmic sound of his hand on his well lubricated cock. a heat surrounds you, you feel like you're suffocating at the implication. there's also a gnawing unease, that you're misinterpreting this and there's some reasonable explanation that you are blind to. maybe you're just hearing what you want to hear.

you've always wanted him, more than a sister should. you rationalize it sometimes, you're not siblings, not really. it's not hard to want him, it seems just about every girl at his school would agree with you. but the shame helps you weigh those thoughts down, tuck them away in a deep corner of your mind. your relationship is unconventional, but you're just close, you just love each other, would do anything for each other, there's nothing wrong with it. you've held onto this justification for a long time.

but maybe it's a lot simpler than that.

you're not entirely sure about what's happening, if he's doing what you think he's doing. but… it couldn't hurt to pretend.

your rationalizations fade, you push the shame to the side, and you dip your fingers, along your chest, slowly, savoring the feeling. focusing on the panting, the faint sound of his hand.

your fingers dance along your skin, you're teasing yourself, until you slip them past your pajamas, over your panties. you palm yourself, rubbing, imagining the sweet friction was against him, anywhere — his hand, his thigh, his face. you realize, rather quickly, a wet spot has already formed, and you flush, feeling embarrassed with yourself.

did just the thought of him, the sound of him, do this to you?

when did you become so dirty.

you can't help the soft noise that leaves your lips at your discovery, and you realize suddenly that caleb quiets on the other the line.

you pause as well. holding your breath. for a second you can't hear anything. does he think you're awake? does he think you're doing the same thing? does he want to end the call?

"f-fuck..." he moans out, the sounds from before continue, faster, more enthusiastic. you're not sure what he thinks, but whatever it is, he's keeping it to himself.

the idea of him getting more excited, it lights a fire in you. you rub yourself faster. you try to be quiet, you really do, but you can't help the huffs and sighs that leave your lips. it's not that obvious, you think. but caleb seems to get more eager with every tiny sound you make. it's good incentive.

you can't help but think about the situation, both of you touching yourselves while on the phone, not acknowledging it, leaving room for plausible deniability. the idea that you're reading this wrong sends a shiver down your spine.

“ngh.. please” he whispers, barely there. and you don’t know what he’s begging for but you want to give it to him. you rub harder, then sigh in frustration. it's not enough. you flip, shifting onto your stomach, trying your hardest to stay quiet. you place a pillow between your legs, and waste no time before grinding against it.

you huff, loving the feeling. even if you're misunderstanding this, you like pretending. that it was his warm body heating you up, making you feel good. with your phone placed next to your ear, you imagine he was there, groaning behind you, just out of sight, touching himself for you.

you let out a whimper at the thought, a little louder. his response is immediate, a low groan. to your surprise, he speaks.

"you⎯ mm... you must be having a nice dream, pipsqueak."

you bite your lip and keep still at his words. does he want you to respond? does he really think you're still sleeping? you don't want to acknowledge it. you continue, quieter, a little shy. you don't want the illusion shattered. grinding your hips into the mattress, desperate.

you imagine his body, and it's not hard. you've memorized the feeling of his frame against yours. he's pressing into you, in time with his groans, you move at the same pace, whimpering when you buck back against the empty air. but you pull yourself back into your fantasy, he's there, his soft sounds are for you, only you.

"fuck," he hisses out, seeming to bite back the sound.

it's becoming too much, your mind is getting so cloudy, reason and shame seem like distant concepts. in this moment, it’s just the pleasure between you two, his touch, his kiss, his body, him.

"i'm— i'm gonna-" his whispers spur you over the edge.

you can barely hear his grunts as he releases with you. your mind goes blank. you don't bother with being quiet, couldn't if you wanted to. you rut helplessly, greedily, panting and whimpering all the while. as satisfaction washing over you. he hums, before letting out a satisfied sigh himself, and you smile sleepily into your pillow.

but as your heartbeat slows into a regular rhythm, and your face cools down, you're left with a pit in your stomach. the room feels colder, the call is quiet, the guilt comes rushing back all at once with nothing to keep it at bay. did you two really just do that? were you really that reckless?

what are you going to do in the morning?

"shit, i made a mess." he mumbles, but he doesn't sound too upset about it. in fact he sounds a little smug. you don't reply, but it calms you a bit, brings you comfort. a vague acknowledgement at this new game you two are playing. with all it's plausible deniability. you decide you'll follow his lead.

so when he yawns, you let the sound soothe you, you let sleep surround you. you leave your shame to him. he's always been the source, he can shoulder it for you.

it's only fair anyways, you were just sleeping, and he's the one who called you.

he made the mess, he can decide if he wants to clean it up.

[bi-writes]

ok wait pause i have a question. first date, but like, real, you are my girlfriend date ? or like how'd they define their relationship (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

he's...fun.

it's just sex. mind-blowing, back-numbing, pussy-destroying sex. this man is pushing 40, and you swear you've never felt so out of breath. you convince yourself it's the military thing--he's used to pushing himself, exerting energy, testing the limits of his stamina. but holy shit, you'd think after round four, this man would take a quick nap or something, but no.

he's still balls-deep, hitting it from the back since you can't even keep yourself upright any longer. your skirt lays haphazardly thrown onto the floor, and oh--there's your panties, too, ripped to lacy shreds.

holy shit, this man is more than ten years older than you, and you've never been so out of your fucking mind--

"tha' the spot, love?" his voice is so condescending. he knows he's got you brainless. there's drool staining your lips, and you paw at the sheets for a better grip, but it's useless.

"y-yes, captain."

the low groan that leaves him makes you smile. he might have the upper hand, but if you really wanted to, you could make him come right now, too fast, too much.

you're in bliss. everything is bliss. you're still recovering from what must be the fifth or sixth orgasm--not as good as the second or third one, but still enough to make you cry fat, pleasured tears. you're shaking, in a good way, sinking to your stomach on the bed and pressing your face into his pillow.

"hmm..." your voice is soft and gooey, and when you take a deep breath, you get a long whiff of him. he smells good. clean. earthy. you tasted cigar smoke in his mouth earlier, and you can smell it here, too. just as you relax, you feel the weight of him on your back, and then his lips. he's kissing along your shoulder to your neck and then up your jaw. you tilt your head to give him room, your eyes shutting as his beard scruffs against your skin and his mouth laps at your chin. "i gotta go, john."

you giggle when he lays his entire body on top of yours, trapping you there. you reach up and grip the back of his neck, whining as he flattens his tongue against your jaw and swirls it there.

"john...i gotta go."

"why?"

"mmm..." you thumb at the hair along his scalp, shaking your head. "don't do this, john."

"not doing anythin'."

"we don't sleep over, john."

"what, is tha' some kind of rule? sounds mad."

you turn over a little, looking up at him. you cup his beard in both hands, giving him a chaste kiss.

"don't ruin it, john," you say softly. "this is supposed to be fun."

he tilts his head to the side. he looks so funny without a hat. you've seen him in a beanie, a boonie hat, a cap, you love them all on him. he looks nice like this, too, though--ass naked with his dog tags dangling against his sweaty pecs.

john's eyes twitch a little at your indifference. he settles on his side, leaning over you, and just as you move to get up, he reaches and grips at your face with a big paw of a hand. you clutch at his forearm, big and solid, and your lips pucker as he pulls you closer to him.

"y'r a bad liar, love," he mutters, shaking his head. "fear doesn't suit you."

"i'm not fucking scared."

"who was it?"

you glare up at him, struggling a bit under him. it's a stupid thing to think that you could get away from him. john is not moveable. he's a big fucking tree trunk of a man, with roots that burrow, and you are truly naïve if you think he'll let you up without an answer.

"shut the fuck up, john," you spit at him, but all he does is raise a brow. he's immune to your bite. he's not phased by your sour attempt at insulting him. in fact, it's what drew him to your bed in the first place--certified brat-tamer, captain john price. "you think you're so fucking smart. think you know everything, just because you've got a few years on me, well let me tell you, john--not everything is a fucking lesson learned. you're a military muppet with a decent cock, and that's all you'll ever be to me."

"tha' right?"

"you'll never put me first. you've got one woman, and that's the job, and that's fucking fine, john, but don't make this something it's not. you're lonely, and old, and your failed relationships don't make you wiser, they make you delusional for thinking that doing this again could ever--"

your breath falters when he kisses you. he squeezes your jaw a little harder, forcing your mouth to open, and you moan, squeezing your thighs together when he licks into your mouth and holds you there for him to play with.

"i do have other obligations. my men, the job..." he brushes the hair out of your eyes, and he presses his forehead to yours when he sees the tremble of your bottom lip and the wet look in your eyes. "but i don't do casual, sweetheart. it's all or nothing f'me."

your hand grips his wrist, squeezing tight, and you blink up at him. he's so close. he's right here. blue eyes, greying beard, a sad expression. he's not afraid of dying alone, but he is afraid of wasting time.

"please don't do this to me, john." your voice cracks, and he shrugs. he's sorry, but he's not sorry enough. not enough to let you go--and you're not strong enough to tell him no. it has to be him, but it won't be.

"it's alright," john whispers, but he knows it won't be. he's known you not but a few weeks, but he's made up his mind. he doesn't understand casual. even from the moment he saw you in that bar, it wasn't fleeting, it was definitive. it would be his. you would be his.

even if you were actually someone else's. even if you were bound to someone else. even if you weren't alone, it was already decided.

john's teeth are stuck here, right here, in the hollow of your throat. his fingers are twisted between the chords of your heart and in the spaces between your ribs. if he lets go, he'll break you apart.

so he's never going to let go.

[jobean12-blog]

Don't Be a Tease

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: You and Bucky are texting back and forth while he's on a mission and you decide to tease him a little...

Author's Note: The new Thunderbolts trailer has me so excited to see Bucky! I can't wait! And this idea is nothing new but I love getting him riled up! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ��️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! PS Italics are text messages :)

Warnings: fun flirty tension and mostly smut, fingering, oral (f rec), edging, orgasm denial, choking, p in v (wrap it up kids), Bucky is soft in between it all

‘It’s really unfair that you’re walking around like that and I’m not with you…how many women have approached you so far?’

You stare at your phone screen, watching the three dots until his text pops up.

‘The only woman paying any attention to me right now is Yelena and it’s only because she has to. Ha.’

‘Nice try. You look hot. I want to come to the party…’

‘Don’t you dare leave the apartment doll face. You know it’s not safe and besides, I can’t concentrate with you around…you’re very distracting.’

‘HEY!’

'❤️😘I love you.'

‘Love you too. Be careful and come home soon.’

‘Always doll. I can’t wait. Miss you.’

‘Miss you more.’

~picture~

Bucky stares at his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen as the muscles in his jaw tighten and shift. He let’s out a low growl, startling an older woman that happens to be walking by.

His hand grips the phone tighter and he licks his lips with a strained exhale.

“Barnes. We must go. It’s time,” Yelena says, surprising him.

He makes a slight jump and her lips curve into a knowing smirk.

“What?” he grunts.

“Nothing,” she responds her smile widening. “Let us get this over with so you can get home to your girl. Da?”

He nods and glances at his phone one more time before he slips it into his pocket.

You don’t bother waiting for an answer after sending the picture and place your phone down on the bed to reach for your book. It’s hard to concentrate when all you can think about is him, but you do your best, letting the words on the page whisk you away for now.

By the time Bucky arrives back home you’re half asleep, your eyes heavy and the words on the page blurring together.

He barely makes any sound as he unlocks the door, his footsteps the only indication he’s headed toward the bedroom.

The light from the hallway filters into the room but his broad frame blocks most of it, hiding him in shadow.

“Bucky,” you whisper and sit up, now fully awake.

He moves toward you with purposeful steps and stands at the edge of the bed, his eyes raking over every inch of you.

“Doll,” he murmurs, remaining motionless, taking in every hint of lace, every tiny bow, and every curve of your body.

You sit up and kneel on the bed in front of him, sliding your hands up and down his chest. His fingers twitch at his sides and you lean closer, brushing the hair from his face.

He grabs your hips and drags you into him, the hardness in his pants digging into your stomach. You let out a surprised gasp that turns into a moan he swallows with his kiss.

When he breaks away from your lips, it’s only so he can whisper in your ear. “Do you like teasing me doll?”

You nod with a shiver, clutching onto his shoulders.

“I..” You struggle to get the words out as his lips trail down your neck.

His long finger hooks under the strap of your lingerie and he traces the calloused pad along the curve of your shoulder.

“Mm,” he hums, sliding his hand down your stomach and between your thighs, pressing the thin fabric of your panties against your wetness. “So wet for me and I’ve barely touched you.”

Your hips jerk into his hand and he circles your clit with a featherlight touch.

“I’m gonna return the favor doll.”

“Bucky,” you whine, barely registering his threat.

His mouth curves up as his gaze darkens, satisfaction mingling with the heat of desire. You tug futilely on his bow tie, desperate for more of his skin but he stops you with a firm hand to your wrist.

“Keep your hands to yourself for now.”

Your mouth falls open with a defiant protest, but he interrupts you. “Or I’ll bind you and stuff my cock in your mouth to keep you quiet.”

A small gasp is all that escapes your parted lips before he covers them with his, carefully and deliberately unhooking your bra and pulling it off your body. Your stiff nipples brush against the soft material of his tux, building the tension about to snap in your body.

His finger continues to tease between your legs before he drags your panties down to your knees. They stop there, the bed preventing him from pulling them off any more so instead he gives them a sharp tug and rips the fabric from your legs.

“You could have just…”

His kiss silences you again and he bites your lower lip, tugging it between his teeth before soothing it with his tongue.

At the same time, his finger slides inside you, slowly pumping in and out before he adds another. You wrap your arms around his neck, clinging to him as he pushes you down onto the bed and settles between your legs.

Like a man starved, his tongue moves against you, his fingers still buried deep, and a cry of his name tears from your throat.

Your legs try to close reflexively, but his grip keeps them wide open. He isn’t slow and easy and when you look down at him, still fully dressed, head buried between your thighs, you feel your release build.

His tongue finds your clit and you urge him on with a gasped, “more.”

“Who said you could make any demands doll face?” he murmurs into your skin.

“But…”

He dips his head again and you lose all train of thought, legs shaking, pressure building. You rock your hips toward his face and feel his smile. You’re so close, your stomach clenching and he pulls away.

“No! Bucky please! Let me come!”

“Doll,” he warns. “You’ll come when I tell you to.”

He slides up your body, his lips and chin wet with your arousal, brushing them across your mouth and letting you taste yourself. You kiss him back, raking your fingers through his hair and then down his back.

His fingers are back between your legs, two sliding inside you as he swallows your moans with this mouth. You buck into his hand and when he presses his thumb against your clit you pull away from his lips and arch your back.

“Bucky!” you cry out.

He pushes a third finger inside you and your legs tremble at the pleasure and sensation of being stretched. You can’t catch your breath, his thumb still working over your clit as his fingers fuck you.

Your body locks up and you clutch at anything you can, his back, the sheets, his ass and then his fingers are gone.

“No,” you beg with a whimper.

“I told you…I’m going to tease you back.”

“This isn’t teasing…it’s torture!”

His touch is gentle as he traces the line of your jaw, passing his fingertips over your swollen lips before kissing them.

“Should I stop then? I can go get changed and we can go to bed if you like.”

“Bucky…” you groan with impatience.

“That’s what I thought doll face.”

Your breath comes out unevenly as you watch him sit up, take off his jacket, and undo his pants. His cock springs free against his abs and he wraps his fist around it, pumping slowly as he lowers himself over you.

He teases your entrance, sliding himself through your wetness and bumping your clit with every roll of his hips. You squirm beneath him, trying to line yourself up so he can get inside you.

“So needy,” he whispers into your neck.

With an incoherent whine you wrap your legs around him, and he finally starts to push inside you. You struggle to breathe through the stretch but he pushes in more, making you take him deeper, and your eyes flutter closed.

“Open your eyes. Look at me doll.”

You obey and snap them open, his hips thrusting to bury the last of him deep inside you.

“You feel incredible. I can’t get enough,” he murmurs.

He keeps his pace steady, each languid movement setting your nerves ablaze with an unhurried and unrelenting build up.

His eyes focus on your face, and he smooths his metal hand up to your throat, circling it with little pressure. You clench around him with anticipation, and he groans, his grip tightening.

Everything fades around you as he squeezes harder, restricting your air flow. All your other senses dull, leaving you with just the heady sensation of his hand around your throat and the rapture of him driving into you.

Your mouth opens to get air, only letting the barest amounts in as your heart hammers against your chest. His blue eyes are fixed on yours, entranced with your every reaction. His thumb caresses your neck, the gesture so tender it makes your whole-body shiver.

He releases you just as his warm breath fans your skin and he shifts to kiss the spots on your neck where his fingers left a light print. You suck in a large gasp of air, your back arching.

He swears, his hips now snapping forward in rough, uncontrolled thrusts. His metal hand moves between your legs, working over the spot you need him most.

“Come for me doll.”

 That’s all it takes for you to let go, spiraling into bliss, your entire body shaking beneath him with the force of your orgasm.

He doesn’t stop driving into you, his lips parted with his heavy breathing and needy moans rumbling out.

“Fuck doll,” he grunts, and you feel him pulse and spill inside you.

He drops forward, his hands on either side of your head as he kisses you softly.

“Should I make you come again?” he breathes, hips still rocking slowly.

You sigh out his name, wrapping your arms around his neck and sinking into the mattress. After a moment, he shifts his weight, pulling out of you to lie down and curl you into his chest. Your head falls to the crook of his neck and silence settles as he skates his fingertips along the curve of your spine.

“Are you okay?” he asks, softly pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Mm hm,” you mumble out and nuzzle closer.

“Maybe you’ll think twice about teasing me when I’m on a mission.”

Your lips meet his neck. “I can’t wait to do it again.”

[cherrygirlfriend]

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ morning wood

pairing: rafe x bsf!reader synopsis: rafe wakes up with morning wood next to his best friend . warnings/tags: smut, somnophilia?, piv a/n; i think this was my most popular fic in my old blog and it was also amongst one of the first smut fics i wrote so this brings me back! new fic coming friday btw!! originally posted 08/01/2024

rafe masterlist ♡

wherever rafe went, you followed; and even though it annoyed some of his friends, they didn't dare to say anything about it to rafe, because the one time they did, he got so angry they thought they were getting their asses kicked.

everywhere, also happened to include his bed. it had started after you had accidentally passed out on his bed from how much you drank, and he didn't care if you were there or not, he was sleeping in his own bed. now, it had gotten to the point where you couldn't sleep without him, and vice versa.

but you weren't a couple, of course not. rafe wasn't one for relationships, and you were just his friend since childhood, and even if he fucked you into the mattress a couple of times per week, or the fact that he never allowed any other girl to be in his bed, or that he thought of you whenever he hooked up with someone, it was just friendship.

"come on, wake up pretty girl..." he mumbled into your shoulder as you started stirring awake, rafe holding up one of your thighs up slightly as his hand rubbed his hard cock against your panty-clad pussy.

"come on, rafe..." you mumbled sleepily, and the blonde pressed a small, warm kiss on your shoulder over the fabric of his t-shirt. "why'd you wake me up? can't you see that 'm tired..."

"princess.. i need you..."

"rafe, we already went three rounds yesterday..."

"please, baby..." rafe mumbled, pressing soft kisses to your neck, the action causing shivers to go down your spine, and you could feel your panties starting to get wet, sticking to your puffy folds. "i'll do anything... just need you so much right now..."

you looked at him with half-lidded eyes as he pressed lazy kisses on your neck, "anything?"

"anything for you, princess. including murder."

"will you buy me those vivienne westwood earrings i want?"

"hell, i'll get a matching necklace."

and that's how you ended up with your best friend on top of you, pounding into your already sore pussy from the night before, your face pressed against the sheet as you let out moans that got muffled by the pillow, a handful of your hair around his fist as you closed your eyes in pleasure, your fists gripping the sheets to try and anchor yourself as he spoke in a low tone with every thrust "such a good girl for me... you're mine... this pussy's all mine... no one's gonna fuck this pretty girl like i do..."

yeah. just friendship.

[harrysfolklore]

hi! i have a little bitch blurb request - piastri sis is on painkillers after a minor surgery or after being at the dentist and while carlos is taking care of her she says things she never would’ve DARED to say out loud - even about the fact she’s been infatuated with him longer than she’ll ever admit 😋

this was so fun write 😭😭 i love my little bitches so much

"Carloooooos," you slur through a mouth full of gauze, reaching blindly for him as the nurse wheels you out. "I missed you. Did you miss me? I was asleep but I missed you."

"Yes, mi amor," he tries not to laugh as he helps you into the car. "I missed you too."

"Your face is so nice," you pat his cheek clumsily. "Like... so symmetrical. Are you real? Maybe I'm dreaming."

He buckles you in carefully. "I'm real."

"Prove it," you demand, then immediately start giggling. "My mouth feels like clouds. Do clouds feel things, Carlos? Are clouds sad?"

"I don't think so-"

"We should ask Lando," you say seriously. "He knows about clouds. He's British. It rains there."

Carlos bites his lip to keep from laughing as he starts driving. You're staring at him with wide, unfocused eyes.

"Your hair is so fluffy," you reach for him, missing completely. "Like a lion. My lion. Did you know lions mate for life? Are we lions, Carlos?"

"Eyes on the road, eyes on the road," he mutters to himself in Spanish, fighting a smile.

"Oh! Spanish!" you perk up. "I know Spanish! Te... te something. What's the word? The love word?"

"Te amo?"

"YES!" you try to clap but miss your hands together. "Te amo! I love you SO much. Like... like more than pizza. And I really love pizza. I think I love you since the first time I called you a stupid little bitch."

"I'm honored-"

"But shhhh," you stage whisper. "Don't tell Carlos. He'll get a big head. His head's already perfect though. How is it so perfect?"

"Mi amor, I am Carlos."

You gasp dramatically. "No way! Since when?"

"Since birth, I think."

"Birth!" you suddenly look devastated. "I wasn't there for your birth! I missed baby Carlos! He was probably so cute. With tiny baby abs."

He can't hold back his laugh this time. "I don't think I had abs as a baby."

"Lies," you poke his arm, missing twice. "You came out of the womb with a six-pack. And perfect hair. And that smile that makes me want to take off my-"

"Okay!" he interrupts quickly. "How about some water?"

"Water is boring," you pout. "You're not boring though. You're exciting. Like racing. Vroom vroom."

He hands you a water bottle anyway, helping you drink without choking.

"My hero," you sigh dreamily. "Saving me from death by water. We should get married."

He nearly swerves. "What?"

"Yeah! Right now! Call Lando, he can be the flower girl. Oscar can be the ring bear."

"Ring bearer?"

"No, ring BEAR. He has to dress as a bear. It's traditional."

"Since when?"

"Since right now. I just decided. I'm very smart, Carlos. The doctor said so."

"Did he?"

"Mhmm. He said..." you scrunch your face in concentration. "Actually I don't remember. But I'm sure he did. Because I am smart. Smart enough to date you. HA! Take that, Instagram models!"

"What Instagram models?"

"The ones that slide into your DMs," you try to look stern but your numb face isn't cooperating. "I see them. With their perfect teeth. Well guess what? I have no teeth now! I win!"

"You still have teeth, mi amor. Just minus the wisdom ones."

"Wisdom..." you gasp. "Carlos! Am I going to be stupid now?"

"No-"

"Quick! Ask me something smart!"

"Like what?"

"Like... what's your favorite color?"

"That's not really a test of wisdom-"

"BLUE!" you shout triumphantly. "See? Still smart! And your butt looks really good in blue. Like REALLY good. Science fact. I used to stare at your butt when I pretended to hate you."

Finally, you reach home. Carlos helps you out of the car as you ramble about his "science butt" and whether lions know about race cars.

"Time for rest," he says, laying you on the bed.

"No," you grab his shirt. "Stay. Protect me from the tooth fairy. She's a thief, Carlos. A professional thief."

"I'll protect you," he promises, sliding in beside you.

"My hero," you mumble, already drifting off. "Hey Carlos?"

"Yes?"

"If we have babies, will they have wisdom teeth? Or will they be born wise? Like little wise lions...Or wise little little bitches."

You fall asleep before he can answer, drooling slightly through the gauze.

And Carlos can only smile.

[manicmanuscription]

Selfishly Late

This is the the second part to unapologetically selfish!!

I have literally rewrote this piece like five fucking times no joke. It's still not perfect in my eyes and there's definitely going to be a part three but I needed to post this before I went insane.

Thank you all for your patience and support I love you <3

Word Count: 1554

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, suggestive, possessive Azriel.

Summary: Azriel has you running a little late to your introduction with his family. But he just can't seem to keep his hands off you.

divider by @strangergraphics-archive

You took one last look in the mirror before scoffing. 

Azriel had absolutely covered you in hickies. On any inch of skin he could reach, paying extra attention to your throat and collarbones. You gave him a pointed glare as he finished dressing behind you in the mirror but he was too busy fixing the cuff of his sleeves to notice. With a roll of your eyes you reached down for the scarf, draping it over your neck and brushing your hair back from underneath. 

“What do you think you’re doing?”  Azriel asked, slightly appalled as you adjusted your scarf and hair to cover some of the more egregious bruises.

He crossed the room in a few strides before standing directly behind you as you sat at your vanity. You didn’t even have a chance to respond before he pulled the scarf away from your neck gently and pinned your hair up with the jeweled metal hairpin he had gotten you last year as a birthday present, perfectly showing off the hickies.

“Azriel!” You exclaimed, turning in your seat to face him and his eyes gleamed at the yellowing dots decorating your bare skin. “I can not show up to your family’s house like this!” 

His brows furrowed slightly, the only sign of confusion you’d read off the usually stoic male. “But you look so pretty like this my love.” He murmured, reaching down and brushed his fingertips against the tender skin, his breath tickling your ear as he pressed another biting kiss to the juncture of your throat. 

Everyone told you once a mating bond snapped the males got unusually possessive, of course you believed them but Azriel was something on a whole different level. When you first met him he explained Illyrians were more territorial, all the instincts heightened. You couldn’t remember the exact sciences on it why but it made you feel so safe, loved and incredibly turned on. 

You gave him an exasperated look through the mirror, one he promptly ignored. His hands curling tighter around your shoulders. This had been going on for years. Every attempt at an introduction was thwarted by Azriel’s skilled persuasive abilities and intoxicating touch.

You did your best to stay strong this time, trying to ignore the way your entire being electrified at his close proximity, sparks running along every expanse of skin he touched. Your toes curled and you let out a soft breathy moan. One that Azriel had still heard and a victorious smile graced his lips. He hid his face in your neck so you didn’t see it. 

But you still did and it was enough to -barely- break you out of his spell. You stood up out of your chair and he rose to full height with you, towering over you slightly. “Azriel!” You reprimanded. “We are going to be late.”  

“We’re already late, what’s an extra five minutes?” He smirked, his shadows swirling around his shoulders as if in agreement. You scoffed, letting out a few curses under your breath. He had been pulling this all morning. 

You didn’t have to be a Spymaster to know Azriel was dragging his feet, first holding you tighter in bed so he could keep using your stomach as a pillow, spilling coffee on the outfit you’d picked out so you’d have to spend another 15 minutes trying to create a new one and now this hickey situation.  

You knew the High Lord or Lady was yelling at him too if any of the occasional winces and rubbing his temples were anything to go by. 

“I’m going to be making such a bad impression already!” You protested, holding your palm out for your clothing back. “Now give me my scarf so we can go please.” 

Azriel just looked at the light brown fabric still wrapped in his hands as if it committed a grievous act against him. “You’re so obsessed with this scarf.” 

You groaned, this time you were the one soothing your head with your fingertips. You knew he struggled when you were gone for long periods of time, both of your work schedules making it endlessly hard to actually have time to be husband and wife, mates, and life partners it drove you crazy too but you’d have to find a compromise because there was no way you were showing up to the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court’s estate covered in hickies. 

You told him as much and he paused, finally noticing your nerves of the event. Years after missed dates and scheduling conflicts and getting distracted by Azriel’s sly touch was all coming to an end, you were finally meeting his family, it loomed over your head and nerves pumped violently through your bloodstream.

It was a bittersweet feeling and you just wanted everything to go well, Azriel wouldn’t stop talking about how amazing his family was. His love for them ran deep and if they somehow didn’t like you….

Azriel begrudgingly passed the scarf over, your comfortability and safety would always come first and he tamped down those raging instincts telling him to whisk you and mark you more thoroughly and reclaim you over and over again especially after your long time apart. He instead pressed a comforting kiss to your forehead.

“Don’t worry love, we are completely mild compared to the crazy shit I’ve seen or heard my brother’s get into with their mates.” He shuddered and you laughed a little bit, pressing yourself closer to him so you could give him a quick hug and a soft peck to his lips, hearing a mumbled “Gods you’re killing me.”  Before sitting back down at your vanity. He sent a wave of reassurance through the bond and you returned it. You've dined with High Lord’s before this would be fine, you were fine. It had to be fine. 

“He’s not coming.” Mor said with finality. Looking over at the golden watch on Amren’s wrist. “I mean they were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago.” The ancient female pulled her hand away from the blonde sharply, giving her an even harsher look of disdain.

Cassian eyed the clock nervously and shot Mor a warning glare. It was incredibly important to him that this went well, you were a major part in his brother’s life and he wanted to not only make a good impression but also make sure you were good enough for Azriel, he recognized it as a silly thought you’d been mated for many years (unbeknownst to him) -and he’d definitely be having some words with Azriel about not being there for his mating ceremony later- but he wanted to make sure Azriel felt loved and cherished, taken care of with all the shit he’d already been through in his lifetime. 

Rhysand just let out a soft sigh, swirling the orange juice in his glass, desperately wishing it was something stronger. He’d assumed his dear brother would be late based on his previous patterns and the little reunion they’d witnessed last night but not this late and he was giving the Spymaster five more minutes before he winnowed the entire family, and their dining table to his living room torches all ablaze and pitchforks raised.

Although he couldn’t help but let out a soft smile at the thought of the usual strict and punctual Shadowsinger was willing to abandon his rigid routine for someone. 

“He’ll be here.” Feyre assured on her mate’s behalf, although her own confidence in him was waning, he did have a habit of simply not showing up when an introduction was planned. 

“You’re sure the female you saw wasn’t an illusion or a paid actress or-?” Mor started but suddenly the lighting in the room dimmed, shadows moving briefly across the edges of the floorboards before the sunlight streamed through the windows once again. An unfamiliar female’s voice rang throughout the large house as she laughed and Cassian’s heart flooded with relief at the sound, anxiety simultaneously  pumping in his chest, he wanted everything to go perfectly.

 “-are absolutely ridiculous.” “Yeah, yeah.” The shadowsinger muttered, the leftover pieces of conversation barely reaching the Inner Circle’s ears. 

Two sets of footsteps echoed across the floorboards, getting closer and closer to the dining room.

 Mor whispered a shocked. “No way.” Another step. “No way.” Another step. “No way.” 

She whispered it after every movement made until finally the couple came into view, standing in the open doorway and she couldn’t even make a sound, her mouth dropping at the sight of you. 

There was a few stunned moments of silence. 

The Inner Circle was staring at you as if you were a foreign creature and you shifted a little bit under their gaze, your mate had prepared you for an endless stream of questions but not the wide eyes and open mouths although you guess it was to be expected and Azriel tightened his hold on your shoulders protectively. 

“Surely you have better manners than this?” He bit out a little harsher than originally meant after a few more uncomfortable moments of stillness. 

You gave them a bright smile and a timid wave, breaking them out of their trance and all of a sudden they erupted with movement pulling you in for hugs and shaking your hands. Not so subtly inspecting you all the while bombarding you with questions.

This was going to be quite the breakfast. 

[rafayelxsylusho]

i feel like i never see this.. but lads men & daddy kink ? like how would they react if you let it slip out one day

Hiiiiii!!! I hope you like it!!

When you call them daddy

Rafayel/Zayne/Xavier/Sylus/Caleb

TW: SMUT

RAFAYEL 🐡

He freezes for a moment, breath hitching in his throat as he hears you let out a choked gasp and a small whimper of"Daddy." He tightens his grip on your hair, yanking your head back and exposing the smooth column of your neck He pulls your body flush against his lean, toned chest as he continues to thrust into you from behind. You can feel his heart pounding, his breath hot on your ear as he leans down.

"Did you just...?" Rafayel growls, voice low and rough with barely restrained desire. His hips never stop their relentless rhythm, cock driving into you with deep, powerful thrusts. "Did you call me Daddy?" He punctuates the question with a particularly hard thrust, grinding his pelvis against your ass.

"Well well," he murmurs, his other hand sliding around your waist "I didn't know you were into that, cutie." You grasp his hand, leading it up to your breast, he squeezes and kneads the tender flesh, thumb and forefingers plucking and rolling your stiffening nipple. He pins you harder against him, one hand dipping down to where you're joined. Fingers find your clit, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive nub as he starts to thrust faster and deeper. The new angle has him hitting that spot inside you with every snap of his hips

A smirk tugs at his lips, eyes glinting with mischief and something more intense, more possessive. "Fuck, cutie... you want Daddy to take care of you? Beg for it. Let Daddy hear you say it again" He smiles as your only responses are breathless moans and needy whimpers, your body arching into his touch. He whispers in your ear, "That's not an answer, cutie, I want to hear you say it again"

His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hip as he rolls his hips over and over again. "Who's your Daddy, baby? Say my name," he demands, voice rough with lust and anticipation. You can barely whimper his name when you feel your orgasm crash over you. He feels you clench and quiver around him as you come undone, your cries of "Daddy!" music to his ears.

Zayne🥼

Zayne's hands grip your hips tightly, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he hilts himself fully inside you. A low groan rumbles in his chest, vibrating against your sensitive breast where his lips and tongue tease and suckle your hardened nipple. He laves the bud with the flat of his tongue before giving it a sharp nip, sending a jolt of pleasure-pain straight to your core.

The desk creaks and shakes beneath you with each powerful thrust of Zayne's hips, his broad frame looming over your smaller one. The lamp on the desk wobbles, casting erratic shadows on the wall.

His hips slam forward, the desk shaking violently as you cry out, "Yes, Daddy!" Your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving crescent marks in his skin as your body clenches around his throbbing length. Zayne pauses, hips still buried deep inside your heat. He looks down at you, hazel eyes darkening with lust and a hint of surprise at your words

Zayne's smile widens, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he looms over you. He rolls his hips slowly, deliberately, grinding against that sensitive spot deep inside. His voice is a low, husky rumble. "What was that, darling? I didn't quite catch that... Want to try again? Go on, sweetheart say it again." His thumb traces the curve of your lower lip, a silent command in the gesture, urging you to give him the words he craves.

"Daddy," you breathe out, the word falling from your lips like a prayer and a plea all at once. Your fingers scrabble at his back, nails digging into his skin you try to pull him closer, to bury him deeper inside you. "Please, Daddy... I need... I need you to fuck me. Fuck me hard and deep until I can't think of anything but you." Your voice rises in pitch, desperation clear in every word. 

A low, approving growl rumbles from Zayne's chest at your plea. "That's my good girl," he praises, before crashing his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. At the same time, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt inside you. He sets a punishing pace, the desk shaking again beneath you with each powerful thrust. One hand tangles in your hair, gripping tight and angling your head to deepen the kiss, while the other arm wraps around your waist to pull you flush against him.

"Cum for daddy," Zayne commands. His hips piston relentlessly, the hand fisted in your hair tightens, tugging your head back to expose the column of your throat. He latches onto your pulse point, sucking and biting as he chases his own release. "Let me feel you cum apart on my cock, sweetheart," he murmurs against your skin. "Squeeze daddy's dick with your tight little cunt. Milk me dry. Give me everything."

Xavier 🌟🌟

Xavier's hips undulate slowly, his hard length sliding in and out of your wet cunt with sensual precision. Warm water streams down his toned chest and abs, dripping onto your curves as you sit straddled on his lap in the deep tub. His hands grip your waist, thumbs kneading the soft flesh as he rocks into you, the gentle waves lapping at your skin with each measured thrust.

One hand slides up your side, cupping your breast and squeezing gently as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. He trails his lips down the column of your throat, pausing to suckle at your pulse point. You can feel his heart pounding against your chest, matching the throbbing of his cock driving into your core.

"Nghh...Daddy...."

Xavier groans, a shudder rippling through his tall frame at the sound of your breathy moan and the pet name falling from your lips. His hips jerk, burying himself deep inside you as he fights the sudden urge to let go. "Fuck, y/n... don't call me that," he grits out through clenched teeth, voice strained with barely restrained desire. "Not unless you want me to fill this sweet cunt right here and now..."

The water sloshes around you, spilling over the side of the tub as he starts to increase his pace, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. His lips crash against yours in a kiss, swallowing your next moan as he starts to piston his hips faster, the water moving around you. One hand fists in your hair, tugging your head back to deepen the kiss as the other arm bands around your waist, crushing you against his chest. He kisses you until you're both breathless, until the coil of heat in your belly winds so tight you think you might shatter.

Suddenly, he lifts you out of the tub and carries you dripping to the bed, laying you down on the cool sheets. He looms over you, eyes blazing with lust and something deeper, more primal. He settles between your thighs, the thick head of his cock nudging insistently at your entrance. His large hands grip your knees, pushing them up and apart until your legs are bent at a 90 degree angle, nearly folded against your chest. It leaves you utterly exposed, vulnerable, at his mercy.

He leans down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he growls,

"Daddy is going to fuck you hard now, princess. Fuck you until you scream, until this needy little cunt is dripping with my cum"

Sylus🐦‍⬛

Sylus smirks playfully, eyes flashing crimson as he pins you harder against the wall, hips snapping sharply against yours. One large hand grips your thigh possessively while the other tangles in your hair, forcing your head to the side to bare your throat to his hungry mouth. Each powerful thrust grinds his pelvis against your clit, sending jolts of pleasure shooting up your spine.

He moans against your throat, feeling your fingers gripping his silky hair. He bucks into you harder. His hand on your thigh slides up to grope your ass, squeezing the supple flesh as he pulls you tighter against him. The wall creaks under the force of his thrusts and the rough treatment of your body. He then hikes your leg up higher, changing the angle and letting him drive into your pussy much deeper. "Who do you belong to, kitten? Say my fucking name."

"I belong to you...daddy!!" you whimper, eyes squeezed shut, tits bouncing in rhythm to his delicious thrusts. He licks a hot stripe up your neck before biting down on your earlobe, tugging it between his teeth. Sylus chuckles darkly, a glint in his crimson eyes as he feels your needy walls flutter around his cock. He slows his thrusts, grinding against that special spot deep inside you with maddening precision. "Louder, kitten, I didn't quite catch that. "You're going to have to be louder than that if you want daddy to hear you." Come on, y/n. Tell daddy who this greedy little pussy belongs to. Let me hear you scream it," Sylus demands, voice dripping with dark promise and barely restrained hunger.

He leans in close, breath hot against your lips as he rolls his hips, stirring his thick length inside your clenching heat. His hand releases your hair to wrap around your throat, not squeezing, but a clear warning of what's to come if you don't give him what he wants.

"I'M YOURS, DADDY!" you scream at the top of your lungs, voice ragged and desperate, just the way he wants it. Your nails dig into his scalp as you cling to him, back arching off the wall as he rails into your aching core. "I belong to you, Sylus! All yours!"

"That's right, you're fucking MINE," he snarls, eyes blazing with feral hunger as he claims your mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving deep to stake his ownership of you in every way possible. He hooks your other leg around his arm, nearly bending you in half as he looms over you, a dark god of lust and depravity. His hips are a blur as he pounds your over-sensitive flesh.

"Now cum for me" he rasps, eyes wild and intense "Give daddy what he wants."

Caleb 🪐

Caleb's breath catches as he feels your pussy engulfing him, inch by inch. His hands grip your waist, fingers digging into the supple flesh as he guides you down onto his throbbing cock. He fights the urge to buck up into you, to bury himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. No, he wants to savor this moment, to make it last.

"Fuck..." he grits out, eyes darkening to a stormy indigo as he watches your face contort with pleasure. "You feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock. So tight, so perfect..."

"Ride me, pipsqueak," he urges, his own hips surge upwards, meeting each of your slow, sensual rolls with a powerful thrust. This angle has him hitting depths you've never felt before, striking that secret spot deep inside that makes stars explode behind your eyelids. A sharp cry escapes your lips, back arching as pleasure crashes through you. His eyes darken with hunger as he watches you grip the armrest of his chair, knuckles turning white, and start to ride him with wild abandon. The sight of you taking your pleasure from him, using him for your own satisfaction, sends a surge of lust pulsing through his veins.

His hands grip your hips, fingers sinking into the flesh of your ass as he guides your increasingly frenzied movements. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through his office as you bounce on his lap, your tits jiggling with each forceful thrust. He leans forward, capturing one nipple between his teeth and biting down just hard enough to make you gasp. His tongue swirls around the sensitive bud before he suckles hard, sending jolts of electric pleasure straight to your cunt.

"Gods it f..feels so fucking nghh...good daddy!!" you moan, eyes rolling back.

Caleb's heart stops, time seems to freeze as your breathless words reach his ears. The way you called him 'daddy' is almost his undoing. He stills your frantic movements, gripping your hips tightly as he fights the overwhelming urge to let go, to fill your spasming cunt with every last drop of his seed. He's so close, teetering right on the razor's edge of ecstasy, your fluttering walls milking his throbbing length so perfectly.

"What did you just call me, pipsqueak?" he asks, his tone a mix of curiosity and something darker, more possessive. "You called me...daddy?" He says the word slowly, almost reverently, as if tasting it on his tongue. His hands slide up your sides, coming to rest just below your breasts, thumbs brushing the undersides.

"I liked the sound of that," he murmurs, leaning in until his lips are a hairsbreadth from yours. "I liked it a fucking lot. In fact... I think I want to hear you say it again. Say it while I fuck you, while I make you scream it for the whole office to hear. Say it while I fill this greedy little cunt with my cum."

One hand slides up to wrap around your throat, possessively holding you in place. The other hand grips your ass hard enough to leave bruises, pulling you down onto him as he thrusts up into you with newfound ferocity. "Say it, pipsqueak" he demands, his voice a low, feral growl as he pounds into you with increasing intensity. His hand tightens around your throat, his other arm wrapping around your waist to hold you in place as he thrust into you. The chair creaks beneath you, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing again through the room as he takes you hard and fast.

"Yes Daddy!" you cry out, your voice ringing through the office as Caleb pounds into you with renewed vigor. "It's yours, all yours! This pussy belongs to you, only you!"

Your words seem to unleash something primal within him. He stands, lifting you effortlessly as he rises, never once pulling his throbbing length from your clinging heat. He strides purposefully to his desk, sweeping the surface clear with one powerful arm before laying you down upon it. He leans down, capturing your mouth in a brutal kiss, swallowing your screams as he drives into you with all the force of a man possessed

"Let go, pretty girl," he whispers in your ear, his voice a low, seductive rumble that sends shivers cascading down your spine. "Let Daddy feel you come undone."

[urlovebot]

cw: perv!sunghoon, sunghoon jerking himself off, pillow humping, panty sniffing, choking, mentions of cnc!

a/n: swoons i love him. hes so gross!

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

sometimes its your panties, other days its your pillow, but today, its both.

"f-fuck." sunghoon moans out. his cock leaks as he rubs it against your pillow, your panties held in his other hand, almost smothering his face.

he wants to use you. he wants to dog fuck you into the mattress. force your head into the sheets and take you how he wants but he can't. not yet.

so instead he opts in for bunching your pillow up and pushing it against his cock for now. and it feels so fucking good. the friction against his length both isnt enough and is too much at the same time.

he cant wait for you to go to sleep and lay your head on this filthy pillow tonight. the thought makes his cock twitch and leak more, dampening his boxers. he felt nasty and weird but he doesn't care. he's fucking obsessed with you. and it's gotten so bad lately.

when you watch movies together, he intentionally spreads his legs so you can see how hard he gets just from looking at you. when he cooks for you, he makes sure to listen intently to the sounds you make when you're enjoying his food.

the other night he even fucked his cock right in front of your face as you slept.

he can't get enough of you. and thats proven as he fucks your pillow harder and rougher. his hips jerk back and forth and his cock drags along the length of your pillowcase. his tongue pokes out to get a taste of your cunt as his pace picks up.

as soon as the taste reaches his mouth, he whines out and just loses it. he quickly gets up, shoves his pants off and mounts your pillow once more. this time he folds it so his cock slides in between the crease and its so much better this way.

his mind wanders and multiple scenes pop into his brain.

he thinks about eating your gushy pussy and the way it'd gush onto his face. he imagines you stuffing his face into your cunt, fucking his face. using him. he wonders if you squirt, and if you do, you'd drown him in it.

he thinks about dressing you up in a cute little babydoll dress, tying a little bow around your neck and fisting his cock in front of your face. you dont even need to touch him. he just wants you to sit and look pretty while he defiles your face.

his final thought runs a shiver through his spine. he thinks about taking you while you sleep, how scared you'd be when you wake up to his thick, long cock filling you up. he'd wrap a hand around your mouth and tell you to "shut the fuck up and take it," as he roughly fucks you into the mattress. he'd hear your screams and pleas and cries and itd only spur him on further.

he's whining and drooling and losing himself in his pleasure. he stops giving a fuck about being careful. he flips onto his back and bunches the pillow up once more. he spreads his legs and begins to fuck the pillow vigorously. he doesnt care how much the dry fabric burns against the length of his cock, his only concern was getting off.

his eyes roll as he feels the burn in his thighs from how hard he was thrusting into the pillow but he fucking loved when it hurt. one hand moves from holding the pillow to his cock, up his body and to his neck. he does a curious squeeze and he sees white. he can't see or hear but with the way his throat aches, he knows hes being loud. his knees knock together and his toes curl as he spills his load onto your pillow.

sunghoons eyes open and he spots himself in your mirror. he looks fucked up. hair sticking to his forehead, neck and chest red from panting, pillow tight in his grip.

he promises himself that the next time he gets off, it'll be in front of you.

[vivimura]

how riki eats pussy

riki devilishly grinned, his eyes gleaming with possessiveness as he pulled your little skirt up to your waist, exposing your skimpy panties. he leaned forward, pressing his face against the crotch where the material had soaked up, inhaling your scent deeply as he spoke. "you smell so fucking good, i can't even think straight."

a trembly exhale escaped your parted lips followed by a whimper, your hand instinctively flying to gently grip at his hair. your thighs threatened to buck close, but you held them open as he inhaled the musky scent of your arousal.

"riki.." you needily whined.

his hands gripped your thighs tightly, his fingers adorned with so many rings created slight impressions into the skin of them. he forcefully kept them spread wide as he continued to breathe in your intoxicating scent, his own arousal growing thick in his pants. "fuck," he muttered against your panties, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your covered pussy.

"h-hah.. please.." you whimpered out, nearly desperate for better stimulation. your poor, neglected pussy clenched around nothing out of distress, hips threatening to hump into his face. you let go of his hair, afraid to cause him discomfort and desperately gripped at the edge of the table you were seated on instead.

chuckling darkly at your pathetic whimper, he finally hooked his fingers into the lace of your panties, slowly pulling them to the side just enough to reveal your folds. "you want something, baby?" he asked, blowing hot air directly onto your exposed pussy.

your knuckles grew white over how tightly you gripped the table. your head tipped back half in pleasure and half frustration over his teasing, mouth parted to release a soft sigh. you further spread your legs, wriggling just a little closer to the edge and riki’s face expectantly. "please do something.."

he laughed softly, his warm breath tickling your sensitive folds. he slowly parted your lips with his thumbs, exposing your slick, pink flesh and the tiny bud hidden within.

with a wicked grin, he dove in without warning, his tongue dipping into your parted folds and lapping hungrily at your dripping slit. he groaned at your taste, the vibrations sending pleasant tingles through your core. his tongue circled your clit teasingly before sucking it between his lips.

you let out a high pitched mewl of pleasure, unable to resist reaching for his hair, slightly pushing him down to where you needed him the most as he ate you like a man starved. your legs trembled, barely managing to stay spread open. his hair tickling against your inner thighs furthered the sensations he gave you.

riki wrapped one of his hands around your thigh, forcing it to stay open. he moved down from your clit to your entrance, making obscene wet noises as he lapped his tongue against its folds. his other hand moved up to your clit, pressing down with just enough pressure as he circled it with his thumb, fucking you with his tongue at the same time.

“oh my god..” you moaned out, tightening your grip on the strands of his hair. your legs jerked and trembled when he stimulated just the spots that drove you crazy, the feeling of his warm, wet tongue inside you causing your hips to slightly snap forward.

he hummed against your pussy, his thumb working your clit faster as his tongue plunged deep inside you as his hand on your thigh held you down firmly. he could feel you getting closer, your inner walls tightening around his tongue as he thrust it in and out of you like a small, wet appendage.

"fuck—" you cursed between whimpers and moans, your pussy convulsing as an orgasm approached. your moans grew whinier and further frequent, a familiar knot threatening to break loose in the pit of your stomach. your eyes rolled to the back of your skull in utter bliss.

he could feel it building, the way your body tensed and your breathing hitched. he wrapped his lips around your swollen bud, suckling hard as he hooked his fingers inside you, curling them up to hit that magic spot inside you that always made you feel intoxicated. "look at me,"

with uncoordinated motions, you forced yourself to look down at him. he had a strong sense of dominance in his aura despite being the one knelt before you. you looked into his eyes with unfocused eyes and flushed cheeks, lips parted as you moaned out like a broken record.

“h-hng.. i think i’m gonna..”

his intense, dark orbs filled with lust and satisfaction at the expression on your face, his bangs sticking to his forehead from sweat caused by the heat of the moment. he began hooking his fingers deeper inside you and pleasured your clit with his mouth relentlessly. "gonna what?" he growled, his voice muffled by your pussy. "gonna what?"

“g-gonna—” you cut yourself off with a shaky cry of pleasure, finally tipping over the edge. your orgasm crashed in waves, and you began squirting all over his face, legs trembling with shocks.

he took it all, lapping up the sweet nectar that poured out of you as you convulsed and writhed. he held you down, not letting you pull away as he continued to lap up every last drop, his fingers still curled inside you, fucking you through your orgasm hitting your spot over and over, causing your release to further prolong.

after an intense few seconds, your orgasm subsided. you trembled like a leaf, your body slumping and nearly falling back flat against the table. you panted heavily and experienced the high riki had brought you.

when riki pulled away, it was a sight to fucking behold. his dark eyes were hazy, strands of hair stuck to his forehead, and his lips, absolutely drenched with your juices, curved up into the stupid smirk he always had on. he leaned forward to land one last kiss on your pussy.

standing up, his smirk only widened as he downed at your spent, euphoric form. he made sure you watched him as brought his slicked fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean.

mlist comment and reblog!

[hanbinics]

!crybaby reader just can't sleep... and it's driving !dealer chris insane.

chris is exhausted. after a long night of his phone buzzing nonstop with calls, pickups, and drop-offs, he’s ready to just fucking sleep. but the girl next to him—his girl—has other plans.

as if to prove his point, you huff dramatically, flopping onto your side for what has to be the tenth time in the last five minutes. then onto your back. then onto your stomach. then back onto your side again, your warm body nudging against his like a restless little kitten. one thing about you is that even if you don’t outright say something is bothering you, you’re going to make it known somehow.

chris cracks an eye open, barely illuminated by the soft blue glow of the alarm clock by his bed. “the hell are you doin’?” he grumbles, voice rough with sleep, low and grumbly.

“i can’t sleep,” you whine in response, dragging out the last word like a complaint. the noise makes him exhale heavily through his nose, rubbing a hand over his face.

“so y’just gonna toss and turn all night?”

he stares at you incredulously when you turn to face him fully, a pout resting on your pretty lips. even in the dark, he can feel the heat of your gaze, the way you bat those big, pitiful eyes at him like it’s his responsibility to fix this. and because you are who you are—because you’re his—chris can’t help but suppose that it is.

the brunette exhales then, long and slow, before rolling onto his side and gripping your waist. “c’mere.”

you barely have time to react before he’s pulling you against him, sliding a thigh between your own and pressing a slow, lazy kiss to the side of your neck. you squirm underneath him at the warmth of his breath, another whimper slipping past your lips that goes straight to your boyfriend’s hardening cock.

“chris...” you start, confusion lacing your tone and expression, but then he’s sliding a hand under the hem of your shirt, long fingers dragging over the softness of your skin.

“shh,” he murmurs back in response, sharp white teeth glinting in the soft light filtering his room as he nips lightly at your jaw. “y’wanna sleep or not?”

you do. so you go quiet as a shiver runs down your spine, hands clutching at his arm as he tilts your chin up, brushing his lips over yours in a teasing, featherlight kiss that has you chasing after him for more, only to be met with a smirk.

“relax,” he whispers, those teasing fingers now dipping lower than before, finding exactly what he’s looking for the moment he brushes over your puffy clit, and a soft gasp leaves your perfect mouth. “i got you, baby.”

it doesn’t take long before your body is melting into his touch, the tension slipping from your limbs as pleasure overpowers frustration, replacing your restless pouts with soft, needy whimpers. he’s careful to take his time, to draw it out, making sure you feel every flick of his wrist, every press of his rough palm into your clit while your hips shift down in search of more from the long strokes his fingers offer you. usually he’d chastise you for being so greedy, but he’s too surprised by the quickness in which your orgasm arrives, your grip on his wrist tightening as you gasp against his mouth, falling apart in his hands with your back arching from the mattress.

it’s not until you’re whimpering uncomfortably from his long digits still being inside you that he finally retracts, blue eyes taking in his own glistening fingers before he’s popping them into his mouth, eyes closing briefly with a soft grunt as he cleans up your arousal with great care. the sight of him doing so never fails to make your cheeks warm with embarrassment, wondering if you really taste that good or if he’s so blinded by how much he loves you.

with a soft, tired smirk, chris presses one last slow kiss to your temple as you curl into him, your breathing finally slowing, deep and even.

“better?” he murmurs, already knowing the answer.

but he still listens to the sleepy little hum of agreement you offer in return, your body limp and satisfied against his as he pulls the covers higher over both of you, letting his own eyes drift shut once and for all.

“good girl,” he mutters, and within seconds, he’s asleep to the sound and feel of your gentle breaths against his neck and the satisfying knowledge that his girl is taken care of.

©hanbinics