#but I entertained the fantasy as a kid

[byjove]

did anybody else grow up silently praying that they were adopted so they wouldn’t truly be related to their family or was that a me thing

[psychopomping]

the tragedy of the rat grinders wanting to be heroes before this all started and the bad kids being forced yet again to save the world because no one else can or will. the tragedy of lack of choice.

[lemon-bomb]

They should not have released this while I’m on my period. I genuinely want a teen pregnancy plot line right now.

[jrueships]

if gup gets shopped out im gonna be so pissed yall

[heroes-fading]

any plans on sharing your original writing on ao3 👀

I don't think ao3 is the place for it so I am...figuring that part out! Gotta finish it first! I'd loosely describe it as Lady Bird meets I'm Glad My Mom Died (ha haaa is that delusional).

If anyone wants to read the final product though and give feedback I'd definitely welcome it, I'll post something when it's done for anyone who wants a copy and I've combed through it a million times (UNLIKE what I do when I post to AO3...when I finish and do the messiest of proofreads and then hit post....). It'll be a hot minute because even I'm not insane enough to write a novel in two weeks (my 9-5 would not be thrilled).

i am in a weird new space with this and it's a little exciting but also nervewracking. I do not know what I am doing. I am making it up as I go along.

[akkivee]

bat having very different styles of fantasy is very them tbqh lol

[dravidious]

I watched Yugioh GX many years ago and there was an episode where characters were talking about their "card crushes" and it took me a sec to realize they were talking about the art and I was like "Ha, who would ever have a crush on card art? How ridiculous!" But then I remembered...

Him

[aethersea]

another thing fantasy writers should keep track of is how much of their worldbuilding is aesthetic-based. it's not unlike the sci-fi hardness scale, which measures how closely a story holds to known, real principles of science. The Martian is extremely hard sci-fi, with nearly every detail being grounded in realistic fact as we know it; Star Trek is extremely soft sci-fi, with a vaguely plausible "space travel and no resource scarcity" premise used as a foundation for the wildest ideas the writers' room could come up with. and much as Star Trek fuckin rules, there's nothing wrong with aesthetic-based fantasy worldbuilding!

(sidenote we're not calling this 'soft fantasy' bc there's already a hard/soft divide in fantasy: hard magic follows consistent rules, like "earthbenders can always and only bend earth", and soft magic follows vague rules that often just ~feel right~, like the Force. this frankly kinda maps, but I'm not talking about just the magic, I'm talking about the worldbuilding as a whole.

actually for the purposes of this post we're calling it grounded vs airy fantasy, bc that's succinct and sounds cool.)

a great example of grounded fantasy is Dungeon Meshi: the dungeon ecosystem is meticulously thought out, the plot is driven by the very realistic need to eat well while adventuring, the story touches on both social and psychological effects of the whole 'no one dies forever down here' situation, the list goes on. the worldbuilding wants to be engaged with on a mechanical level and it rewards that engagement.

deliberately airy fantasy is less common, because in a funny way it's much harder to do. people tend to like explanations. it takes skill to pull off "the world is this way because I said so." Narnia manages: these kids fall into a magic world through the back of a wardrobe, befriend talking beavers who drink tea, get weapons from Santa Claus, dance with Bacchus and his maenads, and sail to the edge of the world, without ever breaking suspension of disbelief. it works because every new thing that happens fits the vibes. it's all just vibes! engaging with the worldbuilding on a mechanical level wouldn't just be futile, it'd be missing the point entirely.

the reason I started off calling this aesthetic-based is that an airy story will usually lean hard on an existing aesthetic, ideally one that's widely known by the target audience. Lewis was drawing on fables, fairy tales, myths, children's stories, and the vague idea of ~medieval europe~ that is to this day our most generic fantasy setting. when a prince falls in love with a fallen star, when there are giants who welcome lost children warmly and fatten them up for the feast, it all fits because these are things we'd expect to find in this story. none of this jars against what we've already seen.

and the point of it is to be wondrous and whimsical, to set the tone for the story Lewis wants to tell. and it does a great job! the airy worldbuilding serves the purposes of the story, and it's no less elegant than Ryōko Kui's elaborately grounded dungeon. neither kind of worldbuilding is better than the other.

however.

you do have to know which one you're doing.

the whole reason I'm writing this is that I saw yet another long, entertaining post dragging GRRM for absolute filth. asoiaf is a fun one because on some axes it's pretty grounded (political fuck-around-and-find-out, rumors spread farther than fact, fastest way to lose a war is to let your people starve, etc), but on others it's entirely airy (some people have magic Just Cause, the various peoples are each based on an aesthetic/stereotype/cliché with no real thought to how they influence each other as neighbors, the super-long seasons have no effect on ecology, etc).

and again! none of this is actually bad! (well ok some of those stereotypes are quite bigoted. but other than that this isn't bad.) there's nothing wrong with the season thing being there to highlight how the nobles are focused on short-sighted wars for power instead of storing up resources for the extremely dangerous and inevitable winter, that's a nice allegory, and the looming threat of many harsh years set the narrative tone. and you can always mix and match airy and grounded worldbuilding – everyone does it, frankly it's a necessity, because sooner or later the answer to every worldbuilding question is "because the author wanted it to be that way." the only completely grounded writing is nonfiction.

the problem is when you pretend that your entirely airy worldbuilding is actually super duper grounded. like, for instance, claiming that your vibes-based depiction of Medieval Europe (Gritty Edition) is completely historical, and then never even showing anyone spinning. or sniffing dismissively at Tolkien for not detailing Aragorn's tax policy, and then never addressing how a pre-industrial grain-based agricultural society is going years without harvesting any crops. (stored grain goes bad! you can't even mouse-proof your silos, how are you going to deal with mold?) and the list goes on.

the man went up on national television and invited us to engage with his worldbuilding mechanically, and then if you actually do that, it shatters like spun sugar under the pressure. doesn't he realize that's not the part of the story that's load-bearing! he should've directed our focus to the political machinations and extensive trope deconstruction, not the handwavey bit.

point is, as a fantasy writer there will always be some amount of your worldbuilding that boils down to 'because I said so,' and there's nothing wrong with that. nor is there anything wrong with making that your whole thing – airy worldbuilding can be beautiful and inspiring. but you have to be aware of what you're doing, because if you ask your readers to engage with the worldbuilding in gritty mechanical detail, you had better have some actual mechanics to show them.

[acid-ixx]

oooh so did we divorce Bruce, or is this an infidelity type of situation?

a loving family, an unpalatable desire: first meeting (unofficial)

— related post !

a/n: a tad bit nsfw. if this sounds messy, spare me. i'm running on like 4 hours of sleep and the will of a thirsty man in front of an oasis. i told yall im going insane for this plotline. ofc a&a still has my heart but I also love to occasionally write for smth else in the sidelines. send in more asks yall hehe.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

definitely an infidelity type of situation, anon! you see, the affair was caused by all mere coincidence. you were to attend with bruce in one of lex luthor's extravagant show of a gala, hold his arm for a brief moment when you walk out of the limousine, only to be abandoned right in the middle of the enormous room.

of course, the right reaction was to be pissed, to badmouth the very man who decided to court and entertain others in front of you; but you chose to stay silent, biting back choked tears by stumbling over the buffet table, only to be met with stupid, overbearing paparazzi and journalists.

so when clark kent rushes in to save you from stuttering over the dozens of microphones and cameras shoved right in your face, granting them access to your pathetic sobs— it's only right that your first reaction was to lean against his body, dismissing the hushed, harsh gossips of journalists.

it was at a time where you're not aware of his identity of superman. well, bruce barely permits you to enter the batcave, only if you stubbornly pester alfred does he let you, only to kick you, his darling spouse right out the moment you step on the cold, hard floors of the lair.

so it's not... a bad thing, right? your husband had a child with another woman, raised him as his own, didn't even bother to notify you with his infidelity— so is it your fault if you slowly start to fall for a man who promises you the world? who actually has the ability to give you the world in the palm of your hands? whose kid lets you pamper him without any fight?

sure, he's coping with... the loss of his previous wife but you're such a perfect spouse, so undeniably attractive, captivating in the hearts of many. your distant eyes, the way you bite the inside of your cheeks, the way your body sways back and forth as if begging for someone, your husband, to provide you a pillar of support in the suffocating heat of paparazzi.

he could be that pillar, could be your support.

when he first came up to you, his intentions weren't to obtain gossip about the oh-so silent spouse of bruce wayne. he didn't even want to acknowledge your marital status, palms already taking your wrist just so he could lead you off to somewhere quieter.

"it's an interview," he whispers an excuse to your reddened ears. but the buzz of his breath, the warmth, the caged arm on your waist tells you it's more than that.

but you don't fight back, you'd rather be anywhere than be the spotlight of a media that eats you up, makes you doubt your marriage even more.

so you're grateful that someone came to your rescue.

this would be the first time you ever saw someone as a savior, and it's not superman, no. it's clark kent, your resident, widowed, journalist.

and for clark's case, you warm his bed better than anything else. you allow clark this sense of respite, a break from heroic activities. allow him to be human, just as he allows you to play your fantasies of being a house spouse; you're perfect for each other.

to hell with useless marriage papers that don't even give bruce a sense of obligation to act as your husband, right? what can it do, when you're absolutely smitten with the current life you're living?

the first stages of your infidelity with clark is confusing, but very much welcomed into your already hectic life.

firstly, you convince yourself, it was all mere 'emotional cheating'. you began texting clark, he does too. an occasional greeting in messages, a passing congratulation for something, then the next it was good morning messages, 'have you eaten breakfast yet?, 'how'd the appointment go?'.

you don't know when it started, when your feelings started, when you began an intimate to romantic relationship with the man— all you knew was that the moment he revealed his superhero identity was the moment he decided to bed you for the night, the moment you grant the man, now your partner, access to every part of your depraved body, made him make you beg for more, giving him all the time in the world to kiss your imperfections, to fondle sensitive parts long untouched, to leave lovebites deeper and darker than the ones you caught bruce with.

you can't help it, he's unknowingly handsome, especially when he invites you over to his ma and pa's farm the next day, pretending to not notice the way your eyes hungrily flit over his topless body, sweat and budding pecs encased in a muscled form. over the course of dinner, you kept biting your lips, warm cheeks at the implications that clark merely wanted to sit next to you just so he could handfeed you, something about him being prideful that you'd definitely enjoy this week's harvest... but his fingers circling your thighs just seems to get you brain all haywired.

yet you stay, and continue visiting for long hours either way, enjoying the man's attention.

you know it's wrong, he knows it's wrong. but the way his son, jon looks at you like you mean the world, the way he's slowly starting to heal the longer you stay over at his place makes clark want to... what's the word? ah, he wants to turn you into his loving trophy spouse. all you need to do is provide jon with all the support in the world.

as for bruce... well, him and his family can deal with your absence for the first few months. but when the lingering feeling of emptiness becomes too much, when bruce no longer feels the worried gazes, or when dick can't hear anymore laughter in one of the supposed 'barren' rooms, or when tim's security systems tracked a missing device, one now in a completely different city.

that's when they start to yearn for someone they purposely let go

[thinkinonsense]

FANTASIZE❦

old!logan howlett x fem!reader

*mdni

cw: cursing, nsfw, age gap (reader is twenty-five)

wc: 1k+

a/n: i have no idea where this came from. i was supposed to be working on something completely different but apparently, this needed to be written first instead. yes it is inspired by the unreleased ariana grande song.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

Logan couldn't read minds. He never longed for the ability or power; he was better off not knowing what others had going on in their heads. He only wanted to peek into someone's mind when he caught your twinkling eyes lingering in his direction. Luckily, he could still read your mind even without the mutation because your fantasies were written all over your face.

It was obvious to anyone caught in the same room as you and Logan, that there was tension. You burned holes all over his body with your intense gaze. If Logan was in the mood to entertain your little crush, he could compliment you in a way that was sure to make you blush.

"Good form today, kid."

"Lookin' pretty today, sweetheart."

"Lemme fix that lipstick, dollface." That one left you with an ache in between your thighs as his thumb brushed your lower lip. "Can't have you walkin' around here a mess, now can we?"

Logan wasn't sure if he would ever make it to heaven but seeing your lip tremble with need was close enough for him.

If he saw you in a dress with a pair of mary-jane's, he would try to catch a glimpse of your underwear in the reflection of your shoes. It didn't always work but it made him feel young again.

No one was brave enough to address it due to him being twice your age. Despite being twenty-five years old and already having graduated from the school, it was still considered taboo to some. If anyone asked Logan about it, he would brush it off as a schoolgirl crush that you would eventually grow out of.

It was truly harmless he thought. You got the attention you craved and Logan got to see a pretty young woman squirm in her seat because of him. It never went further than flirtatious comments and lingering stares.

❦

Today might be the worst day of your life. You and Logan were being sent out together on a mission to find a mutant that lived two hours away. It wasn't the mission that worried you; it was being stuck in a tiny car with only Logan for one hundred and twenty minutes.

"Why aren't 'cha talkin', dollface?" Logan asked, almost teasingly.

For almost twenty minutes, he was aware of your eyes watching his hand hold the wheel. Logan was also incredibly aware of the effect it had on you. A little broken sigh escapes you when his hand clenches tighter around the leather, making his veins pop even more.

"Too busy fantasizing 'bout me?"

No matter how much you tried to find someone your age to be with, your heart always went back to Logan. He treated you differently than anyone you've ever met. Sure, sometimes he made you feel like a kid but he also knew you could handle your own. Logan wouldn't let anyone underestimate you; that kept you crawling back to him.

"Maybe I am." You shrug, fed up with his games.

"Oh, yeah?" He says, taking a deep inhale of your sent. "What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours, hm?"

You were used to Logan's overly confident personality that he tried to use to intimidate you; and make you stumble over your words. It wasn't gonna work this time. Logan wanted you just as much as you wanted him, but you needed him to admit it first.

"Us in the backseat of the car." You admit, biting the inside of your cheek nervous for his response.

"Really? And what are we doing back there?" He asked, cocking his head curiously as his eyes remained glued to the road.

"You're on top of me, makin' me feel good." Your words were coy but that was the point. Logan liked being the tease; having all the power.

"Keep talkin', dollface."

There it was. You had him right where you wanted him.

You pretended to think about it for a moment before shaking your head and telling him, "No, I shouldn't"

"Why not?"

"Because an old man like yourself can't keep up with me, right? At least that's what I heard you tell the Professor."

Logan couldn't believe you had heard their conversation earlier this week. The Professor was the only person who knew the truth of how Logan felt towards you. When Charles asked him what was stopping him from pursuing you, all Logan had to say was, "I'm too old for her; can't keep up with such a young thing like her".

Which was far from the truth.

"So obsessed with me that you're listenin' to my conversations now?" He growled, pulling the car over.

"Stop acting like you aren't obsessed with me too." You smile at him. "I know a few pairs of my underwear 'mysteriously' disappear from my hamper. I know that you can hear me through the walls late at night, panting your name."

With each sentence, you inch closer to him. Logan could only compare you to the snake in Eve's garden; encouraging him to give into his temptations.

"I also know that you want me." Your eyes were dark with desire, making his pants tighter. "So, if you can't get it up or claim that you don't want me then that's fine with-"

Logan fumed with irritation and lust. Not thinking twice before slamming your lips into yours. He tasted exactly like you imagine; tobacco and mint. You were addicted; no one could ever compare to him.

In a rush, his rough hands pulled you into his inviting lap before one cupped your jaw and his other made its way up your skirt, toying with your lacy underwear. He wasn't going to give it to you that easily.

"L-Logan, please," You moan against his mouth, trying to create some friction on his lap. "Need it."

God, he's waited a long time to hear that; to see you so desperate in his arms. When he pulled back to look at you, Logan couldn't be more pleased with the image in front of him. Your eyes shut tightly, face scrunched, trying to concentrate, and lips pouty with annoyance. Logan removes his hand under your skirt; causing the prettiest whine to escape you. He thought you might be what finally kills him.

"We aren't done, sweetheart." He groaned in your ear. "Get in the backseat because you are gonna tell me every single one of your fuckin' fantasies."

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead on Main short part 2

This was not supposed to be this long. It just kept getting longer, just kept going. I found a cut-off point eventually, but there may actually be a part 3 to what was supposed to be a very short little piece. Whoops. (part 1)

Jason never had the time to be concerned about his words when he was young. Neither did anyone else around him. His dad couldn’t be bothered with anything to do with him, and Jason would have been surprised if Willis actually knew what his words were. His mother was more confused by them then anything else, and even then that was only in her rarer sober moments.

Then Jason moved in with Bruce. Dick wasn’t around much when he lived in the Manor. He had just started tolerating him when Jason had died. Dick probably knew what the words were, but they had never discussed it with each other, and Jason couldn’t begin to guess what his opinion was on them back then. 

Bruce used to entertain his fantasies of trying to think up different scenarios his words could be said in, both of them trying to make the funniest good outcome. It became a game they played when bored on stakeouts, obviously keeping the contents of the words private while playing. To be fair, there were a lot of good and funny scenarios. But they lived in Gotham, and Jason had experienced enough of the world, even at that young age, that he understood the likeliness of a bad scenario.

And then he died. And he didn’t think about his words for a very long time. Too busy training and plotting. Busy coming back to Gotham, enacting his plans and building a criminal empire. He barely remembered them himself until he was back in Gotham, operating as the Red Hood, with a trail of bodies behind him.

Assassin training, heads in a duffel bag, counts of arson, and leader of a gang, Jason was not the same kid he used to be. There were few scenarios in which his words could be said that he couldn’t come to understand. And he was at a point in his life where he could find room for a soulmate again. He was settled, secure as the anti-hero of Crime Alley, tenuous agreement with the Bats and all. He had even been by the Manor to have tea with Alfred. 

Arkham breakouts were old hat to everyone in Gotham. Citizens bunkering down, and Bats readying themselves to round up whoever made it out this time. However, this was the first Arkham breakout since his plan with Bruce and the Joker failed. The first since his agreement with the Bats to use non-lethal means. When Jason heard that it was the Joker that had broken out, he planned to kill him, truce be damned.

The Bats could probably deduce that, it was too soon into the truce for any real change to have been made. And this was the Joker. So now it was a race to see who could get to him first. 

Luckily (in this instance), Jason’s base is much closer to Arkham than the Bats. So while they are all stuck driving in from the better parts of town, Jason is already chasing the Joker down alleys. 

Joker is laughing, practically skipping away as if this is a game, and Jason almost loses him as he turns a corner he didn’t see. Jason can hear the Joker laughing, starting to speak. Probably to taunt him again. Then the sound cuts off with a choke and a thud.

Jason turns the corner to see Joker laid out flat, nose bleeding and neck at a funny ankle. A choked breath escapes him, and he looks around to see a man leaning against the alley wall.

The man’s hands are shaking, breaths choppy, and there's a bit of blood on his right hand.

Jason takes a deep breath, which causes the man to look at him out of the corner of his eye. Jason takes in the scene again. And then again, hardly daring to hope even with the evidence in front of him. 

“Is he dead?” Jason asks softly. The man turns to face him, and Jason takes a glove off and slowly, hesitantly, checks the Joker’s pulse.

“Look, in my defense…” The man trails off, looking to the heavens for a moment. “I really fucking hate clowns.” 

Jason, hope fully settled in as the Joker remains still and lifeless on the ground, pulse non-existent against his fingertips, almost laughs. Then his brain does a record scratch. Rewind. Replays the words ‘Look, in my defense’ over again, head shooting up to look at the man who just killed the Joker. 

Jason takes his other glove off, standing. He takes a step towards the man, pushing up his sleeve. The man seems nervous at his advance, watching him warily until Jason uncovers the words on his arm. The cover falls to the ground behind him as he takes another step forward. 

The man’s eyes light up in realization, and he also rushes to push up his sleeve. One more step forward and they are right in front of each other. Arms held up, brushing together as they show each other their marks.

Left forearms pressed together in the space in front of them, one reading ‘Is he dead?’ and the other “Look, in my defense.’. 

The man laughs and Jason takes in the sound of it, the happiness in his eyes as he looks up at him. Jason slowly reaches up to remove his helmet, domino still on underneath it, and lets it fall to the alley floor as well.

“You’re amazing.” Jason breaths out, hand reaching up to cup the stranger’s, his soulmate’s cheek. “You have no idea what you’ve just done for me.”

“Little bit of manslaughter.” He laughs. “Didn’t think it would be received this well.”

Jason smiles in response. “I would worship you for this, if you’d let me. I will never stop thanking you.” 

“Oh.” The man gasps, breath hitching. Jason, one hand still on his cheek, thumb stroking underneath his eye, places his other hand on the man’s waist and backs him up to the alley wall. Deliberately slowly, watching the man as he takes a deep breath, licks his lips, and lets himself be moved.

“Tell me your name and I’ll start right now.” Jason whispers.

“Danny.” The word is breathy and low, only heard due to Jason’s close proximity. 

“Danny.” Jason repeats his name like an anthem and a prayer. Prepared to give his life for this man already. And then kisses him, pressing his lips to his softly, reverently. Wanting to hold this moment forever.

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

Something About Curly Hair and Any Character You Have in Mind

I've always had a fantasy of someone playing with my curls. Delicately pulling on them, like a kid pulling on a string. Playfully and adoringly watching the curl bounce back. Maybe the person could even praise it, saying it's cute, or beautiful, or mesmerising. Especially if they don't have curly hair.

A few minutes ago, my girl friend did it to me, exactly how I've always dreamed, even if inside I wanted to pull away, afraid that she would mess it up, I didn't, and she didn't, and even if she did, I wouldn't care, because I'm starved. So here's this little scenario that I finally felt courage and inspiration to write.

This was written based on my own experience having 123B hair, that has some volume on it (how do you even measure that??), with definition, so you must imagine it was very indulgent.

Also works for Readers of any race!!!! I just specify they have natural curls, didn't even mention the colour.

Gn!Reader and Gn!Character so you reaaaally can imagine whoever you want. But the character probably doesn't have curly hair, and learns to do different hairstyles on you (it's different doing it on yourself and then doing on other people, so you still can imagine any gender or appearance on them). Sex is mentioned. I'm tagging this with the first characters that come to my mind while writing this, just to make it easier.

Might edit this later because it's currently 3am and I'm sleepy as fuck

Divider

They love you. That means they love everything about you. And they love your hair.

They think the volume is sexy. Think clouds can't be softer. Think the way the light reflects on it is ethereal. Think the curls smells heavenly. Think the shape is unmatched.

When you move your hair, it's like being a kid and having a first crush again. Especially if the action causes the delicate smell of it travel through the air faster than they can blink, and they're swallowed in a fog of you.

When you sleep in the same bed together for the first time, and every other time after, they like to wake up before you. Just to admire your peacefull beauty for a while. Like the rest of the world doesn't exist. That's the best way to start a day.

Sometimes, boredom doesn't get to them because tracing curl patterns in your hair with their eyes is entertainment for a lifetime. Never before have they noticed that someone can have more than one curl texture, and how unique and perfect that mixture can look.

There's moments where they get distracted by you. You, taking their attention from something supposedly more important at that moment. Either you smell too nice, or look too good, or shine too bright. And they just can't seem to find anything more interesting than looking at you and your hair.

The first time they touched it, they were surprised by how soft it was, like cotton. Almost weightless, despite it's volume and length. Other people's hair surely doesn't feel like this. They spend so much time touching it the first time, that you have to ask them to stop, or you wouldn't have a nice hair day the next day. They looked like a kicked puppy, so you taught them to gently scrunch from the bottom.

They think bonnets are funny at first, but not in a bad way. They're not laughing at you. Mostly giggling, actually. They understand you may have needed some courage to look like this with them around. And it's like a tiny, almost nonexistent, relationship goal. To be intimate enough to feel confortable wearing a bonnet in front of your partner. And they love that you have no problem doing it.

They even buy silk sheets and pillows if it might help you. It might be morte confortable and not mess with your hair. And they understands sex while having curly hair might be frustrating at times.

Speaking of, they won't pull or mess with it unless you ask for it. They took very seriously your lesson from the first time. And if you have some instructions to give them on how to do it while causing less damage, then you certainly will lift a weight off some shoulders.

Oh, and the difference of how it looks when it's wet and then dry? They can't believe their eyes for a moment. Logic seems to escape. It feels impossible. But it isn't. And they're amazed. Almost jealous for not being as gorgeous as you. They understand why someone would be jealous of you.

Actually, they partially think others should be. If someone dares to utter you are less than stunning, then oh boy. God help them.

Any styling is great. And they're so in love with you, so focused on you, eyes solely on you, that they think no hairstyle looks as good on other people, as they look on you. Even if you hate it, he thinks it looks way better than it would have on anyone else.

Also, they learn some things. They learns to curl with their fingers, how to put on clips, how to do some braids, or buns, or pigtains, or anything you wear often. Even something you never did, but they think will make you ethereal, they will do it on you. They might not even teach you, just so you'll need them for something.

They feel part of their heart breaking if you straighten it. Sure it looks good. If it makes you happy, than they're happy. But it's far from a favorite look on you. It's not the natural you. And they love you. They might love a modified version of you, but only because they love you. Just the way you are.

And if you ever feel insecure, I assure you, they're gonna fix you right up.

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

[dilfdicks]

Sutton! I saw you were on Abbys blog talking about breeding kinks, who do you think has the biggest breeding kink out of the JJK men?

don't play with me ill break it down

sukuna has a big fat breeding kink BECAUSE its a primal urge and he wants an heir to probably eat or kill in battle one day. he wants to fuck you pregnant because he's able to and its a dominance thing to put a baby in you. you're his, you carry his child, your pussy is full of his cum. his his his his his his his. ya feel?

nanami's breeding kink is sweeter, he wants to dote on you, fill you up and make you his in the familial regard. he does it gently, fuks his cum into you whilst making eye contact and whispering about how good you'll look all full with his baby. goes two rounds and then plugs you with his cock for a while to give it time to marinate.

gojo has a breeding kink because cumming in you feels great, is nasty and also he's the strongest has he mentioned that? he doesn't even want kids, he has a son and a horrible position of power he doesnt want to pass down but HOW can he not fill you with his cum and finger it back into you when you take it so nicely? HOW can he say no to you when you wrap your legs around his waist and tell him not to pull out? anything for you, he supposes.

ino's breeding kink just stems from him being a 'it doesn't feel as good with a condom babe' guy and i stand by that. he doesn't want to get you pregnant but he wants to breed the shit out of you trust me it makes sense. he's cheeky about it too h promises he will pull out but god you just feel so good wrapped around him that he starts getting close and he's giving you puppy eyes like 'please, baby, let me cum inside,' and he's just so pretty its illegal to say no to him oops youve been bred.

and choso wants to be bred by you, uhh make it work somehow he thinks its cute the idea of you laying claim on him like that even if its not possible you can entertain the idea somehow.

mahito just does it nasty style 24/7 and makes you walk around with his cum plugged inside of you with a toy so we will classify that as a breeding kink because if there's one thing that man will stand by its having every kink under the sun.

higuruma, like nanami, has sweet intentions behind his breeding kink YOU WOULD THINK but nope, he's such a freak about it he will press down on your tummy as he fucks you in a mating press and drone on and on about how he's going to fuck a baby into you and make you all his and he's obsessed with the fact that once you're bred by him your tits will get heavy with milk and he's definitely gonna suck em once that happens.

geto doesn't have a breeding kink. sike he's just cutesy about it, he won't mention having one until he's emptying his balls inside of you and starts babbling on about how good you're gonna look all roung and pregnancy for him and you're stuck there wondering when the fuck he was going to mention this was a baby making session. probably has a condom on too he's just lost in the fantasy which is kinda cute

just realised this isnt even what you asked for.. uh biggest breeding kink goes to me kenjaku

[muletia]

First of all I LOVE your fics!! Thank you for feeding my delusions (like its totally normal to be obsessed with a robot)

I just keep imagining this scenario where the reader and optimus are kinda in the flirting stage, and she has to attend an office party, so after saving her ass from cons, he drops her off at the venue, and she has to change. She does that in the truck and checks herself in the mirror, and he compliments her. She then gives him a kiss on the dashboard and the hood and leaves. Ratchet notices that optimus is in a daze and asks why does he have red splotches on his face and chest (reader kissed him with red lipstick on).

What do you think his reaction would be like and if the kids notice its kiss marks

thank you <33 and dw i'm feeding my own delusions, no thoughts, head full of giant obsessed robots (let's pretend that opti knows what lipstick is for this, okay??)

word count: 730

He feels the warmth of your lips on his armor long after you’ve parted ways. You delivered your blows swiftly, yet precisely, and above all, skillfully—because Optimus cannot stop thinking about them. It was a small gesture, perhaps left by you in a rush of emotion when he directed a compliment your way, or maybe it was intentional, meant to torture him just a little, to leave a mark behind, ensuring he’d think of you constantly until your return. For him, however, the implications of your action were enormous, hinting at a quiet passion. And perhaps his fantasies seized control of him immediately, but he was convinced they meant far more than just a goodbye. They implied something else. Something closer, more intimate. Were you trying to tell him something? Prove something to him? As a leader, he needed to be certain at all times, but you were someone he could never quite figure out. How could someone so noble also torment him so much?

He drives into the base and transforms, though his thoughts remain with you—your warm lips, the boundless trust you showed him, the gentleness you displayed toward him. He vividly remembers the texture of your soft, warm lips against him. He’s even convinced they’re still there, infecting him with their heat, awakening desires he tries not to entertain. For they are unclean and unworthy of you, and, above all, unworthy of him.

"Optimus?"

But oh, how much he would give to once again be the center of your attention. For you to honor him with another kiss. It could be imprecise, unclear—it could leave him pondering its meaning for ages, as well as searching for the reason you chose to bestow it upon him in the first place. The pretext wouldn’t matter when it meant your focus was solely on him.

"Optimus?"

He returns to the real world. Ratchet greets him, clearly displeased that the leader of the Autobots was lost in thought instead of focusing on reality. In this case, Optimus is forced to push you to the back of his processor, though he is disheartened by the necessity. He wonders how long he can last—how long until you envelop him in your warmth again and he finds himself dissecting every gesture, every glance, wondering if this particular interaction was more romantic than the rest.

"My apologies, my friend. It seems I became lost in my thoughts."

"This has been happening more and more often lately. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. Did something happen during your journey?"

Optimus arches a brow, surprised.

"No, I reached the base without any issues. Why do you ask?"

"This."

Ratchet points to a spot on his chassis, just beneath the left windshield, on the freshly polished red paint. Then, oh Primus, to his faceplate. Optimus doesn’t need a mirror to know what specifically the medic is pointing at. And for the first time in a very, very long time, he feels embarrassment creeping in, exposing a sliver of his emotions to the world.

He subtly turns his head and covers his mouth with his servo, for at this moment, he has no excuse for this situation.

“Ooooooh, I know what this is, I know!” Miko shouts, having been bored out of her mind just moments ago.

“Miko, calm down,” Jack scolds, noticing Optimus’s discomfort.

But Miko couldn’t care less.

“It's lipstick and the marks mean that boss bot has someone who really likes him.” She emphasizes "really" and giggles. The situation becomes even funnier as Ratchet rolls his optics.

“Ah yes, I forgot you were dropping [Name] off,” he sighs. “Just get together already, I beg of you.”

“It is not that simple,” Optimus clears his throat.

“Mhm, sure.”

Prime leaves the hangar, metaphorical tail between his legs, intent on erasing the evidence of his “crime.” He should have expected that your affections would eventually be noticed (they were, long ago), but he would have preferred for it not to happen under such humiliating circumstances.

He touches the spot Ratchet pointed to with a digit. He can still feel your lips there—their warmth, the sparks you shared with him. And if it were up to him, he would never get rid of your marks, the proof of belonging to you, of being yours alone. But the world around him was not ready for that.

[hee0soo]

Sleepless Nights

Pairing — Husband!Kim Hongjoong x afabWife!Reader

Summary — You gladly sacrifice anything for your kids and with a Husband like Hongjoong you couldn't feel happier if you tried....

Genre — fluff

AU/Trope Info — Idol!Au, SliceofLifeAu

Wordcount — 0.7k

Warnings — none

Rating — sfw

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©hee0soo on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

Before you had your children you had been a heavy sleeper. You were sure that a bomb could have exploded right next to you and you wouldn’t have woken up.

It had helped when Hongjoong was still actively promoting, sneaking in and out of your bedroom at the most atrocious of times without you so much as stirring buried underneath your blankets.

Now though, with a 3 and 1 year old in the house, even the spider spinning her web in the corner of the room could probably wake you!

And so it was no surprised that even the slightest noise leaving your sons mouth in the middle of the night had you sitting upright and ready to get up if your husbands hand on your hand hadn’t stopped you before you could.

“Go back to sleep, I’ll check on him.” Hongjoongs rough from sleep voice cut through the darkness. You felt the mattress shift when he got up and rested back against your pillows, not quite ready to go back to sleep before you weren’t sure that Ha-joon was safely back in slumberland.

Tethering on the border to fall asleep while waiting, you thought about those past few years. From the moment you proposed to Hongjoong, because doing it the normal way was boring, to Hongjoong holding your hand while waiting for the pregnancy test result and promising you th whatever would happen, you would do it together and the birth of your babies.

Joon-hee’s bright personality that Hongjoong had joked was more like her uncle Woo’s then his own and Ha-joon who was showing signs of starting to walk already while babbling happily to everyone who would hear it and entertain him. The fact that Hongjoong had immediately put his career on hold all those years ago to be with his family, making him able to experience every up and down with you caused your heart to soar.

“Is he okay?” you mumbled when you heard the door open again.

“Just lost his paci for the moment. However, I also found this little lady wandering the halls.”

You opened an eye and saw the shadow of your husband with a clingy Joon-hee attached to his front.

The little girl reached her small arms out to you, crawling into your open arms upon being sat down on the mattress before Hongjoong crawled back in bed.

“Mama…” The girl whined and hid her face in your sleepshirt.

“What’s wrong baby? Why aren’t you sleeping for mama?” you hummed into the soft curls on her head.

Hongjoong, a gentle smile on his face that you couldn’t see in the dark of the night, listened attentively.

“Bad dreamies! The sockie mons’er came and wanna eat my feetsies!”

Ah yes, the unfailable fantasy of your oldest baby that even came to hunt her dreams. Joon-hee was a dreamer, always in her head, living out the wildest storys when not whirling around like a fire cracker and it was no surprise by now that sometimes nightmares were full of that too.

“Oh, we can’t have that, don’t we ladybug? Gonna save the feetsies from the evil sock monster with mama and appa!” Hongjoong gasped out and tickled her sides to make her laugh and forget the horror of her dream. The girl reacted instantly, giggling at her fathers antics before settling down between you both.

“Mama ‘n appa protec’ me?” she asked with a sleepy pout and received 2 kisses from you and him to each chubby cheek.

“Always, ladybug.” Hongjoong promised her.

“N’ Ha-Joonie?”

“And Ha-Joonie too!”

Joon-hee nodded, eyes growing heavier by the second.

“Wan’ protec’ Ha-joonie too…”

You knew immediately that she was out like a light when she trailed off smuggled against you with soft puffs of air hitting the skin on Hongjoong’s neck after she turned to her father.

Silence settled over the room. You felt his fingers reach over your daughter to trail them down your face.

“Thank you,” He whispered into the dark which only caused a stir and sigh from you, already back asleep like Joon-hee. “for making me the happiest I’ve ever been…”

[sweets3rial]

Camgirl Fantasies !

Kinktober Oct 6 !

re2!leon x camgirl!reader

summary: he's a lonely man and finds warm comfort in the girl on his computer screen. the girl with pretty pink lips and sweet sugary moans. 

tags: camgirl reader, virtual/phone sex, mutual masturbation, smut, some fluff, leon is pathetic, depictions of lingerie, rough sex, gentle sex, creampie, etc.

word count: 5.2K

be sure to check out my kinktober masterlist to see what's coming up in the future ;D!

‘you look beautiful as always,’

“thank you, Scott,” she chuckled, drawing circles on her bare thigh. Scott sat up in his chair, straightening his back, and his fingertips hovered over his keyboard. he gulped a lump down his throat as he began typing. thousands of people flooded in, sending her dozens of compliments and gifts.

she was trying to read out and thank every single one of them which is why he typed out:

‘i love your necklace :), it suits you,’ in a hurry, hoping it would capture her attention.

she was too busy replying to other comments they were all comments about her gorgeous body, breasts clad in a lacy black bra, and her cunt hidden away with matching panties. Scott watched her carefully as she adjusted her position in front of the camera, curling her hair around her finger and smiling brightly at the camera.

“oh my necklace,” she giggled, reaching up for the necklace hanging between her breasts. it was a simple red pendant and it went exceptionally well with the red tint on her lips and cheeks. “thank you, Scott, you’re such a sweetheart,” she cooed.

he’s been addicted to her…addicted to you. he was lonely, pathetically so. he’s been so busy with work and unbelievably pent up. starting a new job is never easy, everyone loves fresh meat, and they love chewing fresh meat to the bone.

coming home from a stressful day at work, his muscles were taut, and he was frustrated with his coworkers, with his boss, and with the stupid speeders on the highway who could read him like a book — taking off as soon as they find out, he’s just a naive rookie.

he’s jealous of his coworkers who are married or engaged; they have a partner to return home to. a partner who can rub their sore shoulders and kiss their lips to welcome them home. what welcomes him home is an eery silence and the creaking of his ceiling fan.

but he wasn’t lonely anymore. he found you. after a long day at work, he needed some way to relax, some way to get rid of all this pent-up frustration and anger. what’s better than a quick cum? or so he thought.

whilst scrolling through a random porn site, he found himself even more frustrated trying to find the right video to watch. everything looked so fake; the pleasure, the passion, the moans, the bodies … it was all just so fake.

and before he could give up, he found you.

this specific website was advertising the website they created specifically for cam girls, or women who go live, pleasing themselves, pleasing the men watching them with solely their voice, or just sitting there looking pretty for the camera.

you captured his attention instantly. every night you went live, you’d have on a pretty set of lingerie and then sit on the edge of your bed. you never showed your face, only your lips and you’d tease your audience, playing with the hem of your panties tauntingly, toying with the straps of your bra — always so nervous to touch yourself on camera, and that only added to the experience.

he was one of the few viewers who sent kind gifts and messages that warmed your heart. he enjoyed seeing your face light up when his message would be read aloud to you and the way you’d read out his username with a small laugh.

he was slowly starting to become your favorite viewer. it’s like he saw you as a person rather than just entertainment for his hard dick. though, you were pretty sure he was just another creep wanting praise and compliments from you.

he was probably a balding old man with a wife and kids like most of the men in your chatroom. but is it still wrong that you look forward to his small compliments and cute smiley faces? streaming was easy money. actually. men are easy. they don’t need to see a nude body and a pretty face to get off, just a woman’s existence could get them off.

which is why it was so easy to make money dressing prettily and playing with yourself for the camera.

Scott was one of your biggest donors, and there have been times when he’s been the only one in the chat sending you messages. he’d ask you about your day or compliment your new set of lingerie and how the color looked good on your skin.

he once took notice of the jazz in the background. even though he isn’t much of a jazz fan himself, he still acted like it solely for your attention. now, every time he hears jazz, it reminds him of you. the image of your plump lips and curvy body flashes into his mind and he finds himself thinking, ‘i can’t wait to get home.’

it’s pathetic, really. he’s found a comforting company in a random woman who was probably miles or even states away. he’s tried going on dates with other women, trying to cure his loneliness but something inside of him can’t deny that there was something between you and him — an unspoken relationship. he was your delusional fan and you were his idol.

he hasn’t missed a single one of your streams. most viewers would get bored of you and stop tuning in, but not him. he was the sweetest, always saying hello, always wishing you goodnight, and thanking you for the entertainment you provided. you would be lying if his messages didn’t make you blush a little.

so after a few weeks or so, you sent him a private message.

‘hi Scott, you’ve been tuning in for a while, and i wanted to thank you. if it doesn’t bother you, why don’t we call? just you and me, one on one. XOXO’

it shocked him when you messaged him privately. asking if he’d like to meet you on a private call, just you and him, no one else. he almost dropped his phone upon receiving the message. he knew it couldn’t be real, that this was some scam and someone was using your name to out him.

but here you are. your hair was tied up, showing off your neck and shoulders. you wore a set of white lingerie. lace trimming and sheer fabric. he could see that you were nervous, too, idly playing with the bow on your panties or your earlobe. a cute habit that you had.

“hi,” you smiled at him, straightening your posture. he did the same, sitting up straight with his sweaty palms rubbing at his joggers.

“hi,” he smiled back.

“i just want to say thank you, i mean for supporting me,” you shrugged, nervously playing with the small bow on your white panties.

“of course! i mean, it’s the least i can do,” fuck. he was so hard it was starting to hurt. his abdomen was burning, and he felt lightheaded, all his blood was rushing to his jumping cock. you were a stranger but in his own twisted fantasy, you knew each other on a much deeper level.

that you were his partner waiting at home. welcoming him home with sweet words and kisses, massaging his shoulders while praising him for how hard he worked today.

“i’m glad that i finally get to talk to you…one-on-one,” you smiled prettily, placing your hands on your knees and leaning forward. this new position gave him a view of your plump breasts. his eyes shot from your lips to your buxom and then back up to your lips.

“yeah,” he replied with a shaky breath.

“Scott, right?” you asked, tilting your head to the side.

“no, no, that’s an alias,” he admitted with a breathy chuckle.

“oh okay,” you hummed, “if you don’t mind me asking, what’s your real name?”

he gulped down a lump in his throat, bouncing his leg nervously, “it’s Leon,”

you leaned back, “Leon,” you said in almost a whisper as if you were letting the name sink into your memory. Leon was the name of the faceless man who’s been making your heart skip a beat. it’s silly really, receiving gifts and kind words from a man you didn’t even know would make you so excited to stream.

“what do you look like, Leon?” Leon had his camera off, too nervous to turn it on. what if you aren’t attracted to him? what if he isn’t your type?

“what do you think i look like?” he answered your question with a question. his nerves somewhat subsided, who knew you were so easy to talk to? and who knew you were so curious about him? here he thought it was a simple thank you call, but you care to know what his name is and what he looks like.

he would be lying if that didn’t excite him a little.

you brought your finger up to your chin, thinking to yourself for a moment.

“brown hair, green eyes or brown eyes, and a handsome smile,”

he chuckled deeply, “so close yet so far,”

“damn,” you said with a click of your tongue.

“why is that your type? brown hair, green eyes, and a handsome smile,”

you shrugged, leaning back a little from the camera and crossing your legs over one another, “i don’t particularly have a type but i do like handsome smiles, but let me guess again, are you a balding forty-year-old man with a big mean wife and spoiled teenage kids?” you rambled out.

“ha! god no!” he exclaimed, a low laugh reverberating from low in his chest. funny too?

“then why don’t you show me?”

his heart stopped. his blood ran cold, and his breath hitched. “what?”

“why don’t you show me what you look like?”

you must’ve noticed his silence and hesitation because you followed up your question with,

“if you show your face, i will too. i’ll show you everything, Leon. so please, let me see your face, i want to see you,” you were practically begging, a small whine in your voice only amplifying your desperate need.

he sucked in a shaky breath, carding his fingers through his blonde hair a few times before nodding his head, “okay, but don’t be too disappointed,”

he reached forward, moving his mouse toward the small camera icon. then with a simple click, his face was revealed. the camera took a second to adjust to the lighting in his room before finally focusing on his face.

your lips dropped agape as his face popped up onto your screen. you were very wrong. he wasn’t a lonely old man with brown hair and green eyes. he was a young blond man with gorgeous blue eyes, plump lips, and the cutest chin she’d ever seen.

he looks like he was straight out of a movie, one of those teenage romcoms. he had a certain boy charm to him. his shoulders were wide, and you could see the outline of his muscles through the simple grey t-shirt he had on. he was nervously playing with the strings of his joggers and he was hiding his face. cute.

“you aren’t saying anything,” he laughed nervously.

“Leon,” you finally have a face to the name. you reached up for your camera, adjusting it upwards so it showed your face and not just your lips. Leon watched curiously as you sat back down on your bed and fuck he wasn’t disappointed.

the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. doe eyes staring back at him, long lashes fluttering, and a light blush on your cheeks. your cheeks rounded as your lips lifted into a smile. you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “now look who’s quiet,”

it makes sense that your beautiful voice matched your face. he was so special. being the first one, out of so many men who watched you, to see your face and to hear your voice say his name. you chose him.

“i’m sorry, you’re just breathtaking,” he replied, still leering at you but not in a creepy way. rather, in a way where he was taking every feature of your face into intricate detail.

“i could say the same for you, Leon. if i’m being honest, i thought you were another sweet-talking forty-year-old man,”

he laughed at your comment, “is that so?”

you nodded your head, tilting your head to the side again, “at least i was right about one thing,”

“and what was that?” he hummed curiously.

“you have a handsome smile,”

fuck, he needed you so bad. your chemistry was undeniable, and the tension in the air was thick. he wanted to kiss you so badly, suck off the pink gloss on your lips until they bruised. he wanted to taste the sweetness of your skin, run his fingers over your curves, and sink his fingers into the plump skin of your thighs. he wanted to touch you and whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

your eyes followed his every movement like a curious cat. “tell me what you want, Leon,” your tone of voice switched, thick and lustrous. he adjusted his hips, licking over the dry skin of his lips.

“you,” he admitted.

“what of me?”

“everything,” he said in a breathless plea, “i need to see you, to hear you, to touch you,”

you nodded, reaching up for the strap of your bra, and slowly, you dragged it down your shoulder and then proceeded to do the same with the other. Leon palmed at his throbbing cock through his joggers, watching your movements with blown-out pupils.

“what do you want to do to me, Leon?” each time his name slipped past your lips, it was like a rush of serotonin through his veins. a warmth that numbs every one of his senses and blurs the world around him, right now it’s just you and him.

“i want to kiss you,” he heaved, “i want to kiss you slowly,”

“mhmm,” you hummed, reaching for the hook of your bra at the front.

“oh fuck,” he moaned to himself, watching as your bra dropped into your lap. the prettiest breasts he’s ever seen, nipples pebbled by the cold air, and smooth skin glistening in the light from your lamp. you reached up, taking one into the palm of your hand, and gave it a small squeeze.

“tell me more,” heat rushed through you, and directly to your swollen clit, you clenched your thighs together wanting some relief. his voice was like music to your ears, slowly putting you into a trance. you could feel each small groan he let out, it vibrated in your chest and shook your core. you closed your eyes as you imagined his weight on top of her, and he was whispering into your ears.

“i’d undress you slowly, kissing the new areas of skin revealed to me,” he reached into his boxers, gripping the base of his cock with a small grunt. he gripped the arm of his chair, watching as you leaned away, throwing your head back as you continued to fondle your breasts and pinch at your nipples.

“i’d make my way down your navel and take off your pretty panties slowly,”

“mhmm,” he was such a pretty talker. he was the type of man to make a woman swoon. he knew what to say and what to do. he’s a dangerous and charming man, and you’re a liar because you have a type: dangerous and charming men.

he began to slowly stroke the length of his cock, the heartbeat in his chest matching the pulsating of his dick. he watched intently as your fingers moved down your navel, you was matching the actions in his words. your eyes were still shut as you imagined it all playing out in your head and god you could feel it. you could feel him.

“but i won’t touch you,” his words vibrated deep in his chest, and a weak breath left his mouth as he pressed his thumb into the tip of his cock. “i’d watch you just like i am now,”

if you were with him now, he would take his time with you. slowly and gently destroy you. he’d revel in the way you’d fall apart piece by piece as he brought you higher and higher. then he’d piece you back together. kissing your sweaty cheeks and coaxing you with gentle words.

“please,” he could hear you whisper out.

“touch yourself for me, i want you to feel good,” you looked back at him with a drunken gaze, your cheeks were hot, and your chest was heaving up and down. he watched as you spread your legs for him, propping up your heels at the edge of your bed.

he could see the wet stain in the gusset of your white panties, fuck you were dripping and just over a few words. there was a slight tremble in your legs as your fingers inched closer and closer to your throbbing clit. it was hot, it was so hot.

your entire body ached. you needed something more. you needed him.

you needed to feel the stretch of his cock, the weight of his hips pounding into you, and his tip slamming into your cervix. you needed his lips on yours; you needed to taste him, the salty sweat that dripped from his hairline and the sweetness of his tongue.

you rubbed at your pantie-clad clit, electricity ran through you, and a small moan elicited from your mouth. “Leon,” you whined, begging him to continue talking.

“look how wet you are,” he chuckled, bemused. he freed his cock from his boxers, stroking it slowly to your rhythm. your eyes flickered from his face and down to his lap, and the ache in your core only grew more. he was big, thick with veins running up to his pretty pink tip. he was curved upwards and his balls were taut.

you could just imagine what he’d feel like inside of you.

“fuck,” you clenched around nothing, rutting your hips up into your fingers. you’ve never been so turned on in your life.

“fuck yourself, baby, let me see you,” he groaned out, squeezing the base of his cock even harder. you were quick to abide by his wishes, watching his visage closely as you pulled your panties to the side, revealing the dripping heat that had been aching for him all this time.

he gulped upon seeing you, running his thumb over the tip of cock; precum was dripping all over his hand. god, he felt pathetic. just upon seeing your pretty pussy, he’s going to cum. he’s so close but he wants to make this last. he wants you to finish first. he wants to hear you, to see you, to watch you.

you dragged your two fingers through your trembling folds, biting down on your lower lip and squeezing your eyes shut. “so pretty, look at you,” he cooed.

the most lewd noises filled your room, the sound of your squelching cunt and your small moans and the wet faps of his cock and his heavy breaths. you slowly dipped your middle finger into your clenching hole and the subtle stretch and drag of your finger against your trembling walls had you reeling. but it wasn’t enough.

“follow my lead, baby,” he heaved out. you peeled open your eyes, looking at him. you watched him closely, matching the strokes of your finger to the strokes of his cock.

“oh my god,” you moaned out, dipping another finger into your cunt. the stretch only burned a little bit, but you knew it wouldn’t compare to the stretch of his girth. your breathing picked up, and you were focused on his voice and the movements of his fist.

he was so pretty. his lips wet with his saliva and red from biting down on them with his teeth. his pale cheeks were dusted over with a pink tint, and the pupils of his blue eyes were blown out. he looked crazed, his hair a sweaty mess, his lips agape, his muscles taut from trying to hold back from coming undone.

how beautiful he’d look in between your legs. that smooth tongue flicking at your clit and plunging into your dripping hole over and over.

“faster baby, fuck yourself faster, make yourself feel good,”

“Leon,” you dragged out, plunging your fingers into your cunt faster and faster. your eyes rolled into the back of your head, and you arched your back into the air, “fuck,” you whined weakly. you clamped your legs shut, overwhelmed by the pleasure that was until you heard a tut of his tongue.

“nuh uh, don’t hide from me, baby,”

“it’s too much,”

“you can do it,” he urged, watching as you slowly spread your legs for him again. there was a sheen layer of sweat on your skin, glistening in the warm orange-red lights. your thighs were trembling, a layer of your sticky essence coating your inner thighs and your plump lips — not the ones on your face.

your hair was coming loose from how you tied it back, how beautiful you looked all disheveled and messy just for him. your other hand gripped at the sheets beneath you, twirling the fabric in your fist — tugging at it helplessly as you continued to moan out his name like a martyr.

each curl of your fingers sent electricity through every nerve of your body, sending it up to your brain until you were ultimately a mess.

“Leon, I-“ you choked on your own words as the apple of your palm came in contact with your clit.

“i know, sweetheart,” he breathed, tightening his grip on his pulsating cock. fuck, he was leaking so much. he knew he was going to cum soon, his balls were so heavy, slapping against his fist with each stroke and he was lightheaded.

he watched as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your back arched, and your cunt clenched around your fingers. a throaty moan left your lips as you came undone around your fingers. Leon wasn’t too far behind as his name left your lips in a weak whine. his muscles went taut, and a pathetic moan spilled from his swollen lips.

hot ropes of cum erupted from the tip of his cock and onto his joggers and fist. the grip he had on the arm of his chair was tight, but as his high came down, he was finally able to relax back into his seat. you were laid back on your bed; your thighs were still trembling, and your fingers were still between your legs, slowly circling your clit.

there was a small silence between them, a comfortable silence.

“that was…really good,” he sighed, running his palm across his forehead, wiping away the sweat. you chuckled, reaching behind your for your silk robe. an apricot-colored robe that matched the color of your lingerie that was now discarded somewhere in the room.

she pulled the robe over your shoulders, “i enjoyed that,”

you did more than just enjoy that. it was the best fucking orgasm of your life.

“i did, too,” he smiled. you sat back up, adjusting your appearance, tucking strands of hair behind your ear, and wiping the smudged mascara beneath your eyes.

“i meant it when i said you’re beautiful,” he spoke up.

“thank you, Leon,” you said, laughing nervously. you avoided eye contact with him as you rubbed at your thighs; your heart was still pounding in your chest, and that same feeling you were getting earlier was starting to come back.

“i don’t want this to be the last time i see you,” you admitted timidly.

Leon was taken aback by your sudden confession, did you mean like this? through a computer screen. or in real life? even with all these questions, he didn’t deny the buzz that pulsated through him. the raw excitement. it was like he was in high school all over again like his crush had just asked him out on a date.

“me too,” he gulped. you sat up a little bit, unable to hide the smile on your lips.

and it sure wasn’t.

“fuck!” your nails dragged down the skin of his back, and your other fingers were tangled in the strands of his blond hair. one of his hands gripped the headboard while the other had a vice grip on your hip. he was focused on the joining of your hips, how his cock pounded into your pretty cunt over and over again and the way with each thrust a deep moan was punched out of you.

“it’s so good,” you drawled out, leaning your head back into his pillow. he bent down, placing a kiss over your wet eyes. how many rounds have you gone? 2? 3? who knows, all he knows is that he’s caught in this loop. you’d fuck and then lay in each other's arms for a few hours, then fuck again, then relax, then fuck.

the drag of his curved tip was driving you crazy; he was stretching you so perfectly; it was all so overwhelming, yet you still craved more.

“so beautiful,” he bellowed through clenched teeth, “so fucking good,” your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him even closer and forcing him even deeper. both of you sucked in a gasp at this new feeling, his thrusts faltering at the way your cunt fluttered around his pulsating cock.

“fuck, baby,” he chuckled amusingly. he ground his hips into your slowly, nudging his tip against your cervix. each shallow thrust had your fingertips itching and your toes curling; it was so good, and it was even better because you’d been waiting for this.

you’ve been craving this. his weight on top of you, the smell of his cologne, the stretch of his girth, the feeling of his fingertips, the weight of his voice in the shell of your ear, and the taste of his plump lips. he dug one of his arms beneath the arch of your back, holding you close to him as he continued to grind into you.

“oh my fuck!” this new angle elicited another gasp from your swollen pink lips; the drag of his tip only got better, and he felt bigger. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into the crook of his neck where you could muffle your pathetic moans and calls of his name.

“fuck, you’re so tight,” he cursed. his fingertips sunk into your back, and his lips found your shoulder.

“i’m gonna cum,” you cried out. he continued thrusting into you at the same pace, taking his other hand and slipping it between their sweaty bodies. his calloused fingers found your swollen clit and he began rubbing in small circles.

a shuddering breath left your mouth, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. you arched up further into him, begging him not to stop but also pleading that it was too much. your nails dug into his skin further, causing him to wince. it hurt, but it hurt so good.

when he looked at himself in the mirror, he could see the red lines all down his back and the multiple hickeys and bite marks littering his neck. you were the same; he had marked your body up and a sense of pride filled him as he looked down to see what he’s done.

red and purple bruises between your thighs from him nipping at your skin, hickeys all over your neck and breasts, bruises forming on your hips from the grip he’s had on her. red and purple marks decorated your beautiful skin; there was nothing you could want more than that.

getting lost in dirty sex and pleasure. rough and gentle. fast and slow.

you clenched down around him, burying your face deep into his neck, and with a loud cry of his name, you came undone around him. your release trickling down and staining the inside of your thighs and the front of his.

you locked your ankles around his waist, keeping him sheathed inside of you. “wait, baby-“

“i need it inside, Leon, i want to feel it,”

fuck.

he couldn’t say no. they both discussed safety before meeting each other. you were on the pill, and he had enough condoms, at least, he thought so. it wasn’t long until you ran out. two people lost in a forest of lust, blinded by pleasure and deafened by passion.

one last thrust, and his muscles went taut, his heavy balls clenched, and the hand between their bodies went to grip your thigh. chills ran through you as his hot cum flooded your cunt, you could feel every pulse of his cock and every heavy breath he let go.

just knowing that he finished inside of you enough to have your aching all over again.

he collapsed, wrapping his arms around her, and brought you along with him as he laid down. your eyes were already shut, your brain suddenly aware of the aching pain in your muscles and the pulsating of your skin.

his heart was still pounding and he lay in silence listening to it. he could feel sleep taking over him but he didn’t want to close his eyes. he was afraid that this was all a dream, all a part of his fantasy. he was afraid you’d disappear from his grip and he’d wake up to you two being strangers across a screen again.

he didn’t want that. if anything, he wanted to stay like this, enjoying passionate sex and continuing to build this newfound relationship with you.

you had driven down from your city to meet him for the first time. he took you out to dinner by the shore, and you two walked along the beach, you had on his jacket, and you two just talked and talked for hours. then in a rush of lust, you ended up in his bed.

he didn’t want this to end.

“why don’t you stay in Racoon City for a few weeks?” he whispered out, half asleep.

“huh?” his question sprung you back awake. “Leon, i brought like barely any clothes with me,”

“I have a washing machine, and my closet is all yours,” he smiled, his eyes halfway open and halfway closed, but he was very aware of what he was saying, and he meant every bit. you sat up, propping yourself onto your elbow, and placed a hand on his chest.

“you’re serious, aren’t you?”

“very,” he nodded.

you couldn’t deny the fact that you really wanted to and even though there were so many reasons to say no, Leon sat above all those reasons. he was the sole reason to say yes.

(divider creds to @saradika ,, photos off of pinterest)

a/n: official welcome to my kinktober yayyy!! sorry guys i'm so late i've been vv busy with school lols, but i hope you enjoyed this. i've never done a kinktober before, and even though i'm not posting a fic for all 31 days, i hope these few i will post this month will suffice. anyways bai bai until next time :3 - V!

notes: if you wanna be on my tag list pls message me or fill out the form below (just to make it easier on me :D)

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