#but i know what little i can squeeze out of myself isn't really much in the grand scheme of things

[nightlark100]

Consequences (Pt 7)

Peter wasn't exactly sure what sequence of events had led him here. Here being the Chasity's kitchen, where Karen Chasity had served then milk and cookies. He vaguely remembered them discussing telling Grace's parents about her situation, especially since Grace had gone nearly catatonic following their encounter with the Lords in Black. Even now she was hunched in her seat, twitching at any sudden sound or movement.

Grace had killed someone. That thought was hard to deal with. Yes, she'd been involved with Max's death but that had been an accident. And yes, her eagerness and knowledge when disposing of the body was unsettling but this was something else. Peter wondered how many of his classmates had died because of her. Was it just Jason? She hadn't mentioned anyone else... but then again she hadn't really been talking much.

"It is so nice to meet some of Grace's school friends. She's told us so much about you, Stephanie," Karen said with a bright smile. It faltered a little when she looked at Peter, he wasn't sure if that was because Grace hadn't said anything about him, had said something bad or just because she didn't like the idea of her daughter having a male friend.

Stephanie gave her an uncertain smile, obviously wondering exactly what had been said, but was spared from replying by the sound of the front door.

"I'm home!"

"We're in the kitchen Mark! We have guests!"

Mark Chasity entered, greeting his wife with a kiss on the cheek before pausing to look over the teens at his table.

"And who might you be?"

"This is Stephanie and Peter. They're some of Grace's friends."

"Stephanie Lauter?"

"That's me."

"It is so wonderful to finally meet our little Grace's best friend"

"Umm..."

"And... Peter? Is that right?"

"Yes sir. Peter Spankoffski"

Mark's eyes widened slightly.

"You're Theodore's little brother?"

"You know Ted?" Oh dear. That could be very bad.

"We went to camp together when we were younger. I must say, I hope you're less of a deviant than he is."

"I... erm, I try to be? I'm more focused on my studies than anything... deviant-ish." Mark made a thoughtful noise and Peter gave Steph a 'help me' look across the table. She cleared her throat, drawing the attention back to her. If the Lords in Black wanted her to be their prophet and use her experience watching her father play politics, she might as well start now.

"We actually wanted to talk to you both about something rather important. Isn't that right Grace?"

Grace's head jerked up from where she'd been in deep contemplation of a cookie she was steadily reducing to crumbs between her fingers.

"Yes... Momma, Daddy, can you sit down for a minute?"

The Chasitys took a seat, Karen's expression concerned while Mark's was more closed off.

Under the table Stephanie reached over and took Grace's hand, squeezing it gently.

"A few months ago, when all the murders were happening... umm... things got really strange and scary for me. And I found myself being tested... there were forces that used that fear to test my faith... and I... I failed."

"What happened sweetheart?" Karen asked.

"I sinned. I gave into my unclean thoughts. I let myself be defiled."

"Grace, please tell me you didn't..."

"I had sex. With a man. And... I'm pregnant..."

Karen let out a wail and clapped a hand to her mouth, tears shining in her eyes. Mark got to his feet and rounded on Peter.

"Did you do this?! I should have known, your family are all alike! Filthy deviants! Corrupting the innocent with your lustful ways!"

"I'm not the father!" Peter squeaked out. "No matter what you think of Ted, believe me I know what he's like and I'm sure it's justified, I am not like him. I'm Grace's friend. Only her friend! And I'm a virgin!"

"Then who is it? Do you know? Or have you sunk so low into sin there are multiple options?" He demanded of Grace, who had wrapped her arms around herself and was visibly fighting tears.

"No daddy. There was just one. Just one time. It was Max Jaegerman. I'm sorry, I know it was wrong!"

"I knew book carrying would lead to nothing good..." Karen said softly. "I should have spoken up... I'm a terrible mother..."

"Mom, no..." Grace reached over to touch her mom's arm but Karen pulled away.

"What do we do Mark?"

"Don't worry Mother, I can handle this. Grace will go to stay with her aunt and uncle, where she can repent for her sins."

"Mark, isn't there any other way?" Both Karen and Grace were crying now. Stephanie was gnawing at her bottom lip anxiously, while Peter's hands were balled into fists beneath the table. He felt a strange unfamiliar fury surging through him.

"We can't let people know about this, imagine what our church circle would say. It's what's best, Mother."

"Best for who?" Peter snapped, unable to keep quiet any longer. Mark blinked, taken aback.

"Excuse me?"

"Best for who, Mr Chasity? Cause it certainly doesn't seem like you're thinking about what's best for Grace"

"I beg your pardon! You have no right to speak to me that way! This is a private family matter, I would like you to leave!"

Peter got to his feet. He suddenly seemed taller than usual and Stephanie could have sworn there was a faint green sheen to his eyes.

"Grace asked us to come because she was scared. She hates herself for what happened because you've made her believe that any kind of mistake makes her worthless. She reached out to you because you are her parents and you're supposed to love and support her, no matter what! Instead you berate her and all you can think about is how it reflects on you. I may not be part of your church but I was raised Christian and I know that God is supposed to be about love and forgiveness. Honestly, I think he would be ashamed of you right now Mr Chasity." Mark spluttered in rage, his face turning an unpleasant shade of puce. "But it doesn't matter what you think. If you won't support her, we will."

"I am her father!"

"And she's eighteen and a legal adult. You have no authority to send her anywhere," Steph cut in, moving to stand beside Peter so the two of them were bracketing Grace. "Maybe you should try asking her what she wants to do. What she needs."

"I don't want to leave..." Grace said quietly. "I'm happy in Hatchetfield."

"You live under my roof-" Mark began but was cut off by Steph.

"She can stay with me. Come on Grace, lets go get your things."

Wiping her eyes, Grace got to her feet and followed Stephanie upstairs. Peter moved to stand at the foot of the stairs, wary that Mark might try something. Neither of the parents followed, but he could hear Karen Chasity sobbing in the kitchen.

It only took a few minutes for the two girls to return with a gym bag stuffed with clothes. Peter guided them towards the front door. As he opened it, Mark and Karen emerged from the kitchen.

"Grace stop this foolishness right now!" Mark demanded. Steph wrapped her arm around Grace's shoulder more firmly.

"Grace, please..." Karen begged softly. Grace paused, meeting her mother's eye.

"I'm sorry Momma."

Consequences (pt1)

In which the Lords in Black aren't fully satisfied with Grace's sacrifice (or, the pitfalls of an abstinence only sex education)

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

She hadn't wanted to kill them, Grace thought numbly as she stared down at her dirt streaked hands, unable to shake the image of her latest victims from her mind. Yes, she believed that the behaviour she'd witnessed from the young couple, drunk and making out in the park, was dirty and perverse but she didn't want to kill them. And yet when she had gotten near, it was as though she was seized by a terrible hunger and she just couldn't stop herself.

She slipped to the ground, resting her head against the side of her bed and felt tears burning her eyes. It had been a few months since everything with Max... since she had given in to the primal temptations and sacrificed her chastity to send him to hell. She should feel... something. Relief? But her insides felt like they were rotting. She'd done so many terrible things and she didn't even have her unwavering faith to fall back on anymore, not after what she'd seen in the school gym. She didn't know if the colourful figures had been demons or if they truly were gods but it felt like jagged claws had slashed apart the fabric of her soul, leaving jagged doubts behind. Doubts and hunger.

At first she'd been able to ignore it but it had gotten stronger. It would rise in waves, crescendoing down onto her when they peaked and leaving her scrabbling for purchase as her mind crumbled.

Even the brief moments of peace she usually got between the waves had been lost to her now as she found herself battling daily with nausea, sometimes barely making it from her bed to the bathroom in time. She had tried to hide it as best she could but she knew her parents were concerned, had heard them whispering while she lingered in doorways. If it continued much longer they'd want to take her to the doctor, but she knew medicine couldn't help her. Her soul was sick, that was the cause. She would just have to pray harder. Maybe she could ask Stephie and Petey for help? Surely her friends would agree to pray with her when they saw how bad things had gotten.

Struggling to her feet, feeling her stomach twist painfully as she did so, she retrieved her phone from her bedside and sent Steph a text asking to meet up.

Her friends would help. They had to.

[kitsunerokko]

I know I'm late to the AI art discussion but uggggh does the whole thing fill me with frustration and sadness

There is a joy to creation, and its process. We're creative beings and the urge to create'll always be there. But also, as a disabled artist who knows she has more ideas than I'll ever be able to actually make on my own, the idea of such a powerful tool as AI, is sorely tempting. A tool with potential on par with other artistic tools like Free Distort, Noise Generator, hell, even stuff we take for granted now like Undo and Layers. Truly, the ideal to train a machine to form shapes and expression like I do, and then direct it, direct us to work on my dreams together… that'd be such an amazing tool…!

But that ideal is locked away behind the harshness of the system this tool emerged under. Trained and built on the back of stolen art, and being used instead as a means to threaten the livelihood of, and belittle the skills of, artists. I cannot yet trust that… I could find an AI system, feed it only my own art, and be absolutely sure that the AI I was using wasn't influenced by stolen art. But even if I could, then there's still the issue of my usage of it to assist me, just on its own, would be devaluing other artists' labor, in a world where that labor needs to pay for life needs. Since it'd be like, legitimizing something so dangerous in an already-augh situation.

I do believe in a future, one where somehow, we've slain the beast of capitalism, artists and AI can coexist peacefully; because as much as AI can create, it would never truly extinguish the human desire to create. If "ability to survive/worthiness of living" wasn't tied to one's artistic output, the AI's capability is less of a threat, and it could flourish as the tool, to help especially, artists with difficulty, like me.

But I don't expect this future to happen in my lifetime; thus it's a moral choice indeed. To keep the scope of my visions locked away, lest I promote and contribute to the betrayal of my fellow artists.

[sillysillygoofygoose]

Older! Boyfriend Toji Headcanons

MDNI! (Slightly) EXPLICIT CONTENT AHEAD!

Soft headcanons:

Older! Toji, who adores the huge size difference between the two of you. He loves how you tilt your head back to look at him or stand on your tippy toes, pushing on his shoulders, just to kiss his cheek.

Older! Toji, who has a ton of money (shout out to broke ass Toji, though 😔). You have no idea what he does for a living. You're pretty sure it isn't something totally legal, like accounting, but whatever. He doesn't mention it and you don't ask. His favorite thing to do is turn you spoiled rotten. He constantly takes you on shopping trips, although his attitude is astronomical, only letting himself smirk when you thank him for buying you a cute little sundress.

"That one's real cute, baby."

"Yeah, bub, that color is really nice."

"Just buy 'em both, I'll take you somewhere nice to show them off."

He can barley constrain himself from pinning you against the dressing room wall and pushing the faint yellow fabric of the dress away from your skin, tasting you through your little lace panties.

Older! Toji whose love language is quality time and physical touch. No matter what he's doing, he needs to have you next to him. He never thought he'd fall so hard for someone, yet here we are...

"Toji, baby please, I'm trying to cook dinner." Toji only tightens his grip around your waist.

"I know, pretty. Just want to feel you." He responded, hooking his chin over your shoulder, peering at the vegetable you were currently mutilating.

"That's definitely not how you cut garlic." You feel him turn his head, smirking into your neck.

"Shut up."

Older! Toji, who would never, EVER let you drive him anywhere. You're forever stuck as a passenger princess. Hell would have to freeze over before Toji would let you be responsible for transporting him somewhere. This includes the time he accidentally shot himself in the upper thigh (long story 🙄) and REFUSED to let you drive to the hospital. You belong in the passenger seat, and his big hand belongs rested on your thigh, gently squeezing the squishy flesh from time to time.

Older! Toji, who pays for your bi-weekly manicures.

"What about these?" You tilt your phone screen towards him, showing him the set of acrylics you saved to your pinterest board earlier that week.

"Hmm, very nice." He flashed you a small smile of approval before grabbing your hand, kissing each knuckle.

They'd look so small and delicate wrapped around his dick.

Older! Toji whose most embarrassing secret is his love-hate relationship with the Kardashians. At first it was baffling... he doesn't even look like he'd know who they are. However, this man is INVESTED. You heard it here first. He lives for the pettiness of it all.

"What the fuck is Khloé's problem now?"

Toji strolls into the living room where you're perched on the couch, eyes glued to the new episode of 'The Kardashians'. He huffs, plopping down next to you.

"She always acts like she's some mediator for Kim and Kourtney, but she's an instigator. Always whining and complaining about something." He scoffs, rolling his eyes. You laugh, humming in agreement.

His favorite thing to rag on them about is their baby names.

"North West? That's a fucking direction."

Older! Toji, who holds you at night. Feeling your chest rise and fall rhythmically with his is the most comforting feeling in the world. He never falls asleep before you, finding peace only when you've found yours. He only becomes sappy after midnight, the loneliness of a quiet bedroom forcing him to face his emotions. Once he's positive you're passed out for the night, he moves his hand from your upper back to your head, gently stroking back stray strands of hair that were previously covering your precious face.

"You looked so beautiful today. I need to tell you that more." He whispered.

"I'm so lucky to have such a sweet girl all to myself."

"I love you so much. More than anything."

Older! Toji, who sees you as his entire world. Scratch that, his entire universe.

Hope you enjoyed! xoxo

[artdcnaldson]

Been thinking about Patrick teaching Art how to masturbate

Patrick lowering himself down onto his stomach and between Art's legs on their pushed together beds, encouraging Art to continue despite his clear embarrassment.

Coaxing him into bringing his other hand down to his balls, only to end up doing it himself because the blonde's hands are shaking too much.

Once Art begins to get closer, so does Patrick. His hot breath fanning over Art's tip as he encourages him breathlessly.

Art shooting thick ropes of cum, half of which lands on his best friend's tongue, dribbling down his chin

And Art cums a lot and Patrick only wants to help. Sucking Art's tip into his warm mouth, licking his slit as he swallows him down

-🕊

I started shaking and vibrating reading this my god

Art jerking off as fast as he can the few random times Patrick leaves their hotel room while they’re at tournaments. He’s really, like, clinical with it— he just wants to cum as fast as possible. There’s no exploration, no teasing. He spits in his palm the same way Patrick showed him and fucks into his fist until he cums.

Patrick went out expecting a blowjob, and winds up getting stood up after the girl gets cold feet, so he trudges back to his room, already pent up and buzzing under his skin. It’s just his luck he walks into the room to see Art propped against the headboard of his bed, fist blurry from how fast it’s moving.

“Jesus Christ, dude, you’re gonna give yourself a friction burn.” Art yelps in surprise, throws a pillow over his lap to cover himself up, like the damage wasn’t already done ten times over. Patrick doesn’t give a shit. He relishes in making Art blush and squirm. He throws himself onto the bed, between Art’s thighs, and grins up at the blond. “You still jerk off the exact same way after six years?”

Art’s face wrinkles. “How else could I do it?”

So many ways. So, so many ways. But Patrick tries to be casual about it. “Dunno… you don’t touch anything else?” He tries not to act interested, like the answer won't plague his every waking moment the second it passes his lips.

"Dude, I don't finger myself. 'm not a girl," Art says, but the whiny affectation it comes out with doesn't help.

And fuck, that wasn't even what Patrick was thinking, but knowing that Art's mind went there... fuck, it does something to him. Patrick tries his best to push that thought deep, deep into the recesses of his mind and brings a smarmy little grin to his lips. It helps to hide his desperate interest.

"Yeah, but what about here-" he flicks Art's nipple and the blond squirms, which, incidentally, makes him buck up against the pillow. His cheeks burn hot and he tries and fails to make his glare look deadly.

"No." Art snaps. "I told you, I'm not a girl."

"I'm trying to help, you know. For old time's sake, you dickhead." He's trying to do more than just help. Patrick was the fucking king of hidden intentions. Of leading Art to do something for his own benefit. "It can feel better."

Art swallows, nose twitching slightly. It reminds Patrick of a bunny being led into a snare. He's not entrapping Art, of course. If Art just... told Patrick to fuck off, he'd go. Of course he would. He'd find some other hot tennis player to suck his dick.

"It can?" Art's pretty eyes are earnest, his pupils swallowing up all that pretty blue. Patrick smiles like the cat who got the cream and tugs the pillow away. When it lands at the headboard, he tries to ignore the large wet spot on the case. He's so hard in his shorts he thinks he'll pass out.

"Yeah," Patrick says. He grabs Art's wrist and moves his hand back between his thighs, past the twitching length of his dick. He moves his fingers over Art's and guides him to squeeze, so he's cupping his balls. The way precum dribbles from his tip isn't lost on Patrick. "Feels good."

Not a question, just... the first thing that he could think of. But Art nods regardless, his hand shaky as he gives a small squeeze. Patrick's eyes train on the expanse of his throat as Art's head falls back.

"God—" Art pants. "That's... yeah—"

Fuck yeah it is. Patrick swallows��� all but licks his lips with big hearts in his eyes like a cartoon character. "Do it again. While you jerk off."

Art gulps and Patrick tracks the bob of his adam's apple. The blond exhales shakily and takes his cock into his trembling hand, his grip lax and hesitant. His other hand just barely teases over his sac, making his balls twitch and draw up. Fuck, Art’s so pretty— shaved smooth everywhere, flushed pink and needy, slick with pre.

Patrick wants Art’s cock stuffed down his throat so badly that he’s dizzy with it. “Let me, you’re not doin’ it right—“ Patrick says, and he replaces Art’s hand with his own. The blond whines and bucks up into his fist, legs kicking out.

“Patrick—“ He groans, but he doesn’t move Patrick’s hand, doesn’t squirm out of reach. “Fuck, Pat—“

Patrick swallows, moves closer. Art’s knuckles practically skim his jaw each time his hand reaches the head of his cock. His hips buck like he’s seeking the warmth of Patrick’s mouth. God, he wants that.

“See? Feels good, huh?” Patrick goads. He gives another firm squeeze and Art sobs pathetically, little ah, ah, ahs punched out from his lungs. Art nods, his curls plastered against his forehead. All of his words escape in breathy whines— yeah, feels good, so fucking good, Pat, god, please, please please please don’t stop, need it, do it again, fuck—

Patrick feels Art’s balls draw up, knows he’s going to come before Art even has a chance to warn him, not that he’s particularly verbose about it. All he manages is a mumbled, “Nnngghh— coming, coming—“ and he’s shooting warm, thick ropes of cum.

Art comes a lot. He’s always known the blond makes a mess, but Patrick never dreamed he’d be on the recieving end of a fucking facial from good Christian boy Art Donaldson himself. He feels Art’s cum paint his face, practically glazing him. It drips into his open mouth and he moans without thinking, his eyes fluttering shut as art comes and comes and comes.

When he’s finally spent, Art sobs weakly, collapsing back against the pillows. Patrick opens his eyes, licks the taste of Art’s spend from his lips, and looks at how fucking messy his cock is, dripping with pearly white. Patrick leans forward and licks, the same way he’s teasingly licked Art’s face, or his hand when they’re messing around. A long, messy lave of his tongue that makes Art’s toes curl into the duvet, muscles twitching until Patrick finally relents.

“Fuck,” Art says, breathless, exhausted, satisfied. “That’s… that was… I’m not gay.”

Right. He runs his hand through the cooling cum on his chin and smears it across Art’s face until his whines in protest and kicks Patrick off. “It’s not gay,” Patrick assures him, wiping his face with that same fucking pillow from earlier. One of them would have to sleep on it, but they could use the flip side. “I was just teaching you again. Don’t worry about it.”

Art nods, trying to convince himself through sheer delusion. That it wasn’t gay, that he didn’t like it, that he doesn’t have feelings for Patrick that can’t be explained away as being best friends.

Patrick taught him again, the way he did before. Only this time, he taught Art that when he wants to come hard, all he has to do is think about dark curls and blue eyes and a smarmy fucking grin.

[satyricplotter]

NSFW Alphabet — Dick Grayson, Jason Todd and Tim Drake

Be warned, I wrote this for myself but it got so long I was like, I gotta publish this, so a lot of the language is raunchy and joking. It's not polished whatsoever. It is also very fitted to my tastes, which isn't necessarily what I'd do for a story. Use of the second person, reader as gender neutral as I could, but I refer to a variety of scenarios with different genitalia.

WC: 6.7k

Triggers and tags discussed or mentioned: body image, biting, breeding, dubcon, noncon, cnc, mutual noncon, sexual assault (as a different category and a reference to Dick's canon) somnophilia, breath play, watersports, scat, blood, bondage, BDSM in general, pegging (implied), dildos, vibrators, toys in general, sensory deprivation, crying, crossdressing, porn, hentai, anal, PIV, cunnilingus, whatever the proper term for sucking dick is, cum, demeaning terms (cum dump, specifically), fingering, masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, age play, pregnancy and birth control, thigh fucking, frottage, edging, cumming in pants... maybe more. I am tired of listing things. Simply beware.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Dick: somehow I don't think he has much time for aftercare. To me this dude always seems a little on the go and distracted by other things. Like, half the sex you have with him is quickies where upon his departure you gotta tidy yourself up, or they're hours long affairs with few breaks to think about moving. In these latter instances, he takes a long, long time to stand up and get moving after you're done. I think he's always secretly waiting for another last round even when it's clear you're both tapped out. He stays in bed and cuddles, uncaring for the drying substances on either of you. Most often he just kisses you, slow and tender, as he holds you. Eventually you gotta kick him out of bed and clean yourself up and then he's rushing to help you.

Jason: my man is methodical. This is His Job and he has His Way to do it. He keeps his bed crisp, towels at hand, water nearby etc etc. He's always the one to wipe you down, straighten you up if there's still clothes involved. You always whine you wanna cuddle a bit and he's like no. You'll get an UTI. Go pee. We'll cuddle after. And you shuffle sadly to the bathroom. The sheets are new when you come back. He dislikes being rushed and not being able to tidy, so you gotta be very strategic when you know you won't end up in bed.

Tim: Tim's a baby. Tim's the one you gotta clean up, the one you gotta lay down and tell him to stay put. He's very bad with being in the moment if he's got something else going on, so you gotta keep all electronics away from him. Mostly you gather him in your arms and run his fingers through his hair, while he absently traces circles on your skin, and then nods off eventually.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Dick: I think Dick really likes his forearms! A dark horse, of course, considering the stellar butt, but that seems to be a little of a sour point. I think he loves his figure in general, and the graceful line of it. For his partners, I'm thinking the waist to hip area—the tummy essentially, but also the lower back. He loooves to sling an arm around your waist and squeeze, loves to nip at the lower belly, loves a good pinch. He just likes grabbing. The sides of your thighs are always marked with his fingers.

Jason: man's an ass guy. He loves to watch that shit bounce. You can't miss with the bending over. He's behind you immediately, a hand on your hip like hey... As for himself, genuinely I think he likes his hands. They've gone through a lot. You can tell they're pretty banged up. But he's a maker, a fiddler—he builds his gadgets, he pulls the trigger. He's so into precision, I think he appreciates them a lot for the tools they can be. And his fingers pumping in and out of you are never a bad sight.

Tim: He's a cop out and would say brain. He likes his eyes best, I think. He doesn't strike me as the type of man who fixates on any part of his body but rather takes it in as a whole, and as such finds it difficult to like, separate it into pieces unless it's for a specific purpose. Oh, maybe his calves. They're nicely shaped. But his eyes are very pretty and he knows they're charming. As for you, he likes tits (big, small, pecs, etc). Just the chest area in general. Big fan of a nipple. Will suck and bite and twist until you squirm. If you're not sensitive, you simply haven't met him. He'll pavlov your nipples to harden upon seeing him and then smile evilly when you complain. A low cut anything is a direct challenge and he will take it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Dick: nothing will stop this man from coming inside eventually. He'll wear you down talking about how good it will feel to fill you up, or you will eventually come to beg him for it and he'll take the opportunity with no complaint. If you can get pregnant, keep that birth control schedule TIGHT. Nothing he loves more than watching cum dribble out of you. Loves to stuff you with it, loves to rub it over your entrance, loves to watch it squelch as he goes back in to pump you full of more.

Jason: actually very normal about it. He doesn't believe in pulling out, so he wears a condom and disposes of it safely. He does love to cum on your face. That's very much a thing. It's a relatively safe thing to do, and he likes it a lot when you try to catch it all with your mouth but it ends up dripping off your cheek. When your eyelashes are sticky with it—ooh. He knows it hurts if it gets on your eyes, and he apologizes while he wipes it off, but he's already semi hard again so you can't quite believe him.

Tim: if he's topping, he's pretty normal about it. Doesn't feel any type of way about his own cum, though he kinda likes it when you mix it with your own and feed it to him, but that's mostly because he loves your fingers in his mouth. If you're topping (and if you can cum from that inside him), he's suddenly the nation's number one cump dump. Stuff my man up. He can take it. Ooh, he wants to take it. He really, really wants you to blow a load inside him. A lot of the times, it's the feeling of being filled up that has him coming himself.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Dick: he's, like, very into somno, but he hates to bring it up first. The thing with Dick is that he's so good at denying himself things he doesn't care about but the minute he really, really wants something, he struggles real hard not to go get it. And he really wants that pussy (gn). He's the king of guilty fucking. I honestly think he likes being a little ashamed of what he's doing, like it just... Brings flavour to the table. But he's an Upstanding Citizen so while he looks at your ass while you're asleep and imagines what it'd be like if he could just roll your pants down a little and rub the head of his dick against your entrance, he will not speak a word until you bring it up or you find him jerking off over you at the thought of it.

Jason: easiest man to get to sub for you. Doesn't look like it, doesn't wanna admit it, but you get him at the right moment? Oooh baby. He's so easy to unravel, blushing to the tips of his ears and wet all over. You can literally do whatever you like with him in that state. He bounces off your cock (gn) so pretty, though he doesn't enjoy bottoming regularly.

Tim: mfing stalker. He takes pictures of you all the fucking time. You don't know the half of it. And he jacks off to the weirdest shit because it's not so much about how you look in that picture, but the idea of your innocence being corrupted (so corny) (you'd look at it and be like, tim, I can take nudes, you know, you don't have to masturbate to a blurry panty shot taken under the dinner table, you can't even see shit).

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Dick: this is dick grayson we're talking about. Be real. He's been around. He knows his way around the human (and alien, shoutout to my baby Kori) body. Nine out of ten times, he's the most experienced person in the relationship. And not only does he know what he's doing , he's good at it.

Jason: there's about three universes or so where Jason's not a virgin when he meets you. The rest of them my boy's simply too fucked up and/or busy for love, so he just... Doesn't. It doesn't seem to me like having sex was a priority to him, and while I think he regularly gets propositioned, he's the type of dude that just blinks at you until you slink away in shame, so he simply doesn't get laid until he's in a relationship. At most he's fucked two people before he fucks you.

Tim: this is dick grayson 2.0. he pulled steph, he pulled kon, he pulled bernard. He has by far the widest breadth of knowledge about sex, although most of it doesn't come from first hand experience. He hasn't had that much freaky sex, but he knows plenty about it. He's very adventurous.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Dick: oh, eugh, this man think you're a contortionist. He thinks you guys are equals. It doesn't matter how much you tell him he's far more flexible than you, he loves twisting you up into the weirdest positions in the book, and you know what? He's right. You do feel him so much more with your leg up in space and the other one around his ankle.

Jason: doggy. Again, my man loves to watch it jiggle.

Tim: he loves being ridden. Just infatuated with the sight of his cock leaving and breaching your entrance, and your thighs quivering, and how it all gets so wet. I think he'd be more partial to the cowgirl/boy than the reverse bc tits, but yk. Loves to watch you go.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Dick: He's sooooo into getting a laugh out of you with a stupid joke so he can ram into you and watch it catch on your throat. Thinks it's grand. He's the goofiest of them all, but he likes to make you laugh, and doesn't entertain your attempts to be funny. There's only one clown in this bed ☝️ So annoying.

Jason: he can be giggly at the beginning, like laughing into your mouth, but once he gets going, he's pretty serious about it. Not withdrawn, but he doesn't want to joke or, like, have a conversation. He's just laser focused on getting you both off.

Tim: he's alright on the jokes, doesn't particularly bring it to the bedroom. He's a little snappy, but not keen on super goofing around? Rather, I think you'd wanna make him laugh, just to get him to relax, and he'd roll his eyes and scoff but smirk a little. (I'm rlly picturing this with kon rn lmao)

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Dick: he's got himself trimmed and pretty! I think he just cares about looking good. Not his main concern in life, but, you know.

Jason: he's kinda got to groom himself bc I headcanon that the pit let him some after effects so his nails and hair grows really fast. He doesn't like it, finds it a real chore, but it's like a real bush if he lets it go untamed. And he does it himself, of course.

Tim: I don't think Tim concerns himself much with that, but I also don't think he really needs it. He's the type not to grow that much hair anyway.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Dick: he is so romantic. He's the type to whisper things he doesn't mean, not because he's trying to gaslight you into thinking he has feelings, but because he gets caught up in the heat of the moment and also believes those things should be said. He's soft and coaxing, even when he gets mean, and he's very into small gestures in the sense that he holds your hand when you're going to come, he presses a kiss to your temple. Just loving, I guess, even if he doesn't, like, love you.

Jason: he is unbelievably, unbearably intense. You will not be able to shake him off, emotionally speaking. Even when he's trying not to be intense, he can't help it. There is always so much weight and deliberation to his touch. Under his fingers, you feel the skin of your body bloom with heat. And the eyes. Never stops looking. So sharp and heady. You can't look at him for you, but he forces you to look into his eyes when you're about to come, grabs your chin if you don't wanna.

Tim: it depends on how he feels about you. If it's casual sex, he is very casual about it. He's not one to make promises if they can be used against him lol but if he likes you... You can see the saw trap plans he's concocting in his mind to never get you off his dick again just coming alive in his eyes.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Dick: My take is that dick is so funny about this because he so absurdly prefers coming inside you or fucking your thighs or your tits that whenever he can't and has to resort to jacking off, he's kind of churlish about it? Like right at the beginning when he's just starting, you'd just see him pouting with a hand caressing his shaft almost disinterestedly. He's so funny. Then he gets going and comes and is like oh that was a nice experience actually.

Jason: When he begins to jack off while thinking about you, he's ashamed about it for the longest time. It's not the act itself that brings him embarrassment, but the fact that he used to do it kind of perfunctorily, like just... body upkeep, or whatever. A little impatient with it even, just to get it over with. And he didn't think about anyone in particular, just flashes of the stuff he was supposed to think about. Then one day, after he meets you, he's just going at it as usual and the image of you pops into his head. And he can't stop thinking about it. The question of what you look like, how you'd feel under his hands, how you'd sound—it consumes him. When he thinks about you looking at him slouched over his couch, smiling at him and kneeling between his legs, your eyes fixed on him as you offer to help and take him into your mouth—oof. He's never come so much in his life.

Tim: he is so so hot about it. He doesn't think about it that much and is the type to neglect his dick for ages until he has free time and suddenly he has to unleash two weeks worth of cum upon you. So he starts fisting his dick, shuddering at the feeling of finally getting some release, and thinks, I should share this, and starts recording, but because he is evil, he doesn't let you see. He places the phone on his desk (because he's STILL working, he just couldn't hold it any longer), and begins jacking off under his shirt. So you only see his flushed cheeks, the hair covering his eyes, and the way the wet spot on the fabric grows larger and larger as he goes. Near the end that thing's so transparent and sticky you can almost see the angry red head every time it pushes against the fabric—and then he splutters against the fabric with a cry of your name and doesn't even let it dry before he winks at the camera and cuts the video, just as he's going to lift the shirt. Evil.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dick: well, I already said somno and breeding (I don't think he's into it for the children, like, seriously. Like if you can get pregnant and do, it's not going to be a nice surprise. He'll ride it out! But he's got commitment issues.) And thigh fucking. He's unbearable about it, particularly if you're wearing anything that gives him easy access.

Jason: My good honest man. He likes sense deprivation, I think, but he likes it being done to him. He's almost never not being in charge, however, so it doesn't come up often. If almost like a birthday special to him. He's also very into frottage, but I don't know if that counts as a kink? He likes coming in his pants a few times before the real deal.

Tim: is this a kink? He loves to make you cry. He just really likes bullying you to the point you're bawling. You can fuss and kick all you want, and it just turns him on, because the minute he removes himself, you're whining to have him again. I think that's his favourite way to make you cry, just to edge you unendingly until you're sobbing for him. He also likes age play, but he likes to play the younger part. I don't think quite mommy/daddy stuff (depends on the reader), but a bit of an emphasis on the age gap (think the blurry noona/hyung area in korean, when employed sexually. The terms are not translatable but that's the spirit of it).

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Dick: everywhere. Does not discriminate. Inside the house, I think he likes bothering you when you're chilling in the couch. If your lying down there, he'll starts running up a hand between your thighs and he'll stop if you can't carry on the conversation. Outside, I think anywhere that is mildly risky—possibly the park? Kinda loves shoving you between trees and eating you out, or fingering you. When he comes onto you outside, it's mostly to get you to come so you have to hang out there, all sticky, thinking of him. He gets really thrilled by you running out of patience and pulling him out of whatever situation you're in just so you can go home and fuck. Sometimes you don't even make it home. You "force" him to fuck in a bathroom or in the car — closest relatively enclosed space you can find. He really enjoys those releases.

Jason: the bed. Give my boy his space and his nightstands! But outside that, no joke, the kitchen. It's more often than not his kitchen rather than yours, so he's there most often and it's where you find him and put your hands on him. Also god forbid you take anything out of the oven. He just shows up, takes it from your hands, presses you against the counter.

Tim: no joke loves to have you suck him off underneath his desk. He thinks it's funny when you bang your head against the top lmao but he also just likes to see you cramped into a tiny space and all over him.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Dick: Hear me out. He likes implied corruption masked as salvation. That sounds dramatic: what he likes is the tension between helping you and succumbing to his own desires. He is very often the more knowledgeable, powerful, etc party, he almost always has some advantage over you, and he likes struggling against the feeling of giving you what you want and thereby taking advantage of you. It's a weird, false dichotomy, but he likes playing the hero a lot, and that makes him feel sometimes like what he wants is selfish, which means he tends to be secretive and manipulative in order to get it, and he winds up doing stuff that is suspicious and much closer to taking advantage of you than just being upfront would've been. And he unfortunately really enjoys those times. I associate him a lot with the "I can't help myself from doing this" sentiment. So to answer the question lol, when you look particularly put together and he gets to mess it up, or when you look at him with big, round eyes, or when you look really fuckable and are not aware of it, he really likes that.

Jason: He's a slow goer. You have to seduce him. He likes the motion of that, likes having you come onto him, likes it when you're flirty and a little risqué just for his benefit. Likes when you're self assured, and when you're a little mean with him. He could watch you forever, but to really make him spring into action, you gotta tell him how badly you need him. That'll bring him to your side in a minute.

Tim: milfs. No joke. I think he's pretty attracted to cheery people he can make fun of. Oh, he really likes riling you up. That shit gets him fired up in a second. You're arguing with him and he's got to adjust in his pants, and he won't go down without a fight. He really, really likes bullying you lol He thinks it's so hot when you're annoyed

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Dick: no watersports/scat/blood (vampire universe exempt), and so on and so forth. It's a bit silly that he gets grossed out by it when he's so into cum, but, you know. Another thing is, he can't really be demeaning. It's not that he doesn't want to, but it never... hits? Like, he's unauthentic about it, in a way, and he's much better at praise. So it's not that he won't do it, but that it's a little mid lol

Jason: I don't think he can do CNC. Even if you really wanna, he just can't play the part without going limp. It's not in him to do that to you. He can't bear to hear you plead with him over that, it makes him feel gross and uncomfortable. He'll talk bad to you if you wanna, though.

Tim: breath play. He doesn't like the feeling of his airways being cut off even when he's at his most mindless, it always kickstarts his survival mode, and he can't choke you either because he doesn't trust himself to stop.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Dick: my good man #1 pussy (gn) eater in the house. He will be there hours. His poor cock will weep unendingly and he doesn't give a single fuck. Matter of fact, that first load after he finally slides into you? Best part of the job. Would not like it half as much without the various orgasms he drew out of you. And he's good at it, obviously. Practiced. I think he's also a decent cock sucker (what an image), but he's way more practiced with a pussy.

Jason: he also likes giving more than receiving, but he is soooooo hot when he lets you suck him off. It's the way he can barely hold back, how he falls apart in your mouth. The way his hands fist your hair despite himself, the way he weighs on your tongue. You have to beg him to let you suck him off first, but christ, if it ain't a gift when he acquiesces.

Tim: receiving, I think. I love to think about him sucking a dick, though. Very pretty. But in general, I think he prefers to be sucked off rather than being the one to give. He's fine at it! And he's not one to shy away from it if you wanna, or offer it when in the mood, but he thinks he's better with his fingers anyway, and he wants his mouth free for your nipples.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Dick: he tends to go more for the slow and sensual. It's part of the romantic vein of his style. He gets really close to you. He is also evil and very rarely loses control of himself, so he will fuck you however he wants, not how you beg him to, and because he's got so much experience, he usually has the better idea of how to get you to come.

Jason: i love him. Can't go slow. Okay, technically, he can, but he's got to work really hard at it. He just likes being inside you so much, he slips into that excitement too easily. His way of fucking is very bruising, very felt, much like his feelings. And again. My man loves to watch it jiggle.

Tim: he's the one man who will listen to how you want it. Mostly because he likes being ridden so you're setting the pace. He usually goes for slower rhythms, though, and if he's toying with you, he goes excruciatingly slow. Also knows to speed up exactly when your patience is about to snap.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Dick: again, half the sex he has is quickies so yeah, he likes them lol. I do think they appeal to him as an expression of unbridled want, in the sense of we want each other so much we have no time to savour one another and we still can't help ourselves from having a fleeting taste.

Jason: he dislikes not having time and space to do everything he wants to do, so he is mostly opposed to them. And he is very good at waiting, though the longer he waits, the longer you end up spending in the bedroom. He's also pretty big so he wants to have the room, time wise, to prep you to take him so the slide is easy and pleasurable for you, and the quickies don't afford him the space for that. He'll do it if you come to him real wet, though.

Tim: he thinks they're fun but he's very bad at them in the sense that once he starts doing you, he is very disgruntled that he has to stop. And he always fucking forgets it so he needles you to let him stick the tip in real quick, c'mon, just five minutes and we're done, and then you're having to bite down on his shoulder to pry him away from you before whoever you're waiting for comes in. And he likes the biting, so it's 50/50 whether he actually comes off.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Dick: yep. He's a little more conservative with what he's willing to try, and he doesn't like everything or want to implement it regularly, but he's very open to at least trying it ou. He doesn't come up with a lot of stuff himself, and he doesn't spend time researching on his own, but he'll see something interesting and bring it up next time if he decides he likes it enough to play out.

Jason: Jason has... categories. He's very intuitive when it comes to sex. He kind of already knows what he likes and can go off that knowledge to predict what he will like or not. And he's good at making modifications on things he finds uninteresting to better suit his needs, if you still wanna try. He doesn't like roleplaying in general, for example, but he will pretend you're both strangers so you can pick him up at the bar. Likes bringing you to the bathroom stalls and fucking you there.

Tim: oh yeah. He reads a lot. He's very curious. He'll go on the internet and read manuals, read reviews, take tests, etc. He's also much more likely to fixate on a certain kink for a period of time, or to genuinely incorporate it to his regular sexual life.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Dick: mr. first robin have been a vigilante since i was nine, have never not exercised, etc etc. Yeah. He ain't stopping.

Jason: the fucking pit. He keeps dying and coming back and it's like they pump more cum in his balls every time. Enough said.

Tim: see mr. grayson. I don't know how the spleen affects him, but I doubt he lets it hold him back. He will stop you after a while if you're topping tho. Doesn't like to be sore much. Which doesn't mean he'll stop altogether, you know, he still has a dick.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Dick: he hates your dildo. He's horribly, terribly jealous of it. At first he'd use it to tease you, but then he liked you for real and that thing became his sworn enemy. He despises the fact that he's away so much you have to resort to using it, basically, so it'll always kind of have a place in your bed. He resent a vibrator even more. It's super fucking funny to me. He's game for everything else that doesn't fuck you tho.

Jason: Jay likes gadgets for their ingenuity but I don't really see them coming up too often. A few restraints, blindfolds, maybe a cock ring? He'd like them better if you used some on him rather than him using them on you. He prefers to do the work with his hands and mouth and cock. Good honest work

Tim: I think Tim's game on toys for either participant. He'll make you watch him fuck himself onto a tentacle-shaped dildo, if that's something you're into, and he won't let you touch him. He's a terror with a vibrator, though, particularly if you have a clit? Dude. A remote operated vibe. Anal plugs with tails attached. A fucking machine? Get away from that man. When I say saw trap, I mean it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Dick: horrible. He is awful. Worst of all because he's also so very sweet, and tender, and he plays the fool to lower your guard, and then you're lying there, gasping around his cock for the umpteenth time because he will not let you come yet and nothing you say breaks his nerve, and he just. taunts you. He's also soooooo into walking around looking delectable and playing dumb about it. Sure, man.

Jason: this one is on me, but I love a reader who's just off-handedly disrespectful to him. I always pair him with the brats lol I think he handles that well, by which I mean he strips it down to bone raw frankness which is heady and intimidating (metaphorically, I mean, but also strips down as in naked, I guess). He's quippy, also, as a general rule, but that's two way banter so I don't count it.

Tim: horrible part 2. See: loves to make you cry. See: Loves using toys on you. See: loves torturing you. His nudes are not even explicit, they're just suggestive, but you know intimately what he looks like, so the mere suggestion is enough to drive you mad. And then his fascination with you is never ending. It's a cocktail for great and tortuous diversion.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Dick: soooo talkative this man will not shut up. You're like, my man, you've been speaking for two hours straight, doesn't your throat need any lubrication? And he's like, you're right and swallows when you come. He's a moaner, I think, but not any louder than average. Will play it up if he sees the neighbour eyeing you in the hallway tho lol

Jason: Grunts and gasps and overall very throaty. He murmurs a lot of stuff into your skin. He's not loud, but his voice is a spear right down your groin. He likes speaking against your ear and sometimes it's all you hear. If you top him, and with some very precise loosening, you can get him moaning so so pretty, but it's pretty rare.

Tim: bitch has the most obscene little whimpers. It activates apex predator instinct on you immediately, like a switch being flipped. It's impossible not to bite him when he starts giving the short, breathy moans. Sounds so needy, and when he gets like that, he can barely string a sentence together, which is just mind blowing considering who he is.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Dick: I think Dick has a COMPLICATED relationship with his body. Perhaps it's me projecting a little because I cannot imagine being such a beautiful man and being able to cope with it. First vector to the issue is the fact that this man knows his body from the tip of his toes to the last strand of hair on his head. He is much more in touch with every muscle in his body than the vaaaast majority lf the world, and he has been so since very early in his life. You know that quote from Ursula K. Le Guin, I think, about how dogs don't really conceptualise their size, and cats are the complete opposite, they know exactly where they begin and end and that's why they seem like water sometimes? And then she says dancers also know exactly what they look like, because what they look like is what they do. And that's exactly him, as an acrobat and as a vigilante both. And though he doesn't care much for it, he also knows exactly how well he is regarded for possessing the body that he does. It is flattering, yes, but it is objectifying also. There's not so much the worry that people won't look any deeper than his looks because well, most of the time he doesn't want them to look, and also his loved ones regularly bypass his handsomeness and treat him as a person, so he knows he can live beyond that. Then there is the matter of his continued sexual assault at the hands of Catalina, and the subsequent objectification she subjected him to for the weeks following that first time at the rooftop, which would irrevocably change his relationship to his body. I don't think she ruins it for him, but he does develop, like, a very deep awareness of the power he holds and how easily that can be taken away. There's a lot of deliberation behind his every move, and when he cannot put that much thought into his actions, he freaks. It's also kinda why I headcanon him being so enthralled by so many dub-conish situations, I think it provides him with a playground in which he can explore the extents of his desires and what acting on them means while acknowledging the harm they may create, thus liberating him from the pressure of the worry or the not engaging altogether. I think an instance of mutual non consent (or plain noncon of you, but I don't think most versions of him have it in them) would absolutely obliterate him, and do a lot of bad to his psyche in a way Jay and Tim could withstand much better. He'd think it a moral failure, in a way the other two could resolve, but he'd never forgive himself. It's a point of no return, for Grayson.

Jason: he finds porn really distasteful. He would honest to god rather pay to watch two people go at it than look at a film. He just can't appreciate it for what it is—the stories are corny, the dialogue is cringe, etc etc. I genuinely think my man is on the aspec to some level. He's got a healthy libido, he likes having sex, but it's very person specific. I suppose I'd say demisexual, but I do think he can have casual sex but it's a VERY rare thing for him to feel sexual attraction like that right from the get go.

Tim: he enjoys cross dressing, but he won't go out like that. It's a very personal thing, to him. He strikes me as a dabbler in genderfluidity. If there's something there, he doesn't really care to examine it. He's good at being a man and he's comfortable with it, too, so there's that. But with you, he can just try it out. Of course it's fun to fuck you with a skirt on, but it's not a sex-based thing. And, unrelated but he watches hentai unironically because man's a weeb.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I don't rlly understand this question sbhdhd all those suits are skin tight I think you can tell. I assume this is about cock size cuz we all know Dick's got an ass and Jason's vice president of the perfect titties club with nic coughlan so.

Dick: I think he's a little bigger than usual but nothing that'd give you pause. Well, maybe a little. It's enough to think "that's just unfair" but not to be appalled. Very pretty. Leans slightly to the left. It's got some heft to it, but I wouldn't comment on its girth, and it's very expressive (shshdj?). It twitches a lot, is what I mean.

Jason: fat. So so fat. Fat, heavy, and uncut. Coupled with his full bush—instantly mouthwatering. This one does make you blink a couple times in astonishment. The type that makes you say I don't know if I can't take this but by god, I'm gonna try. He probably has to prep you a decent amount before you can both be comfortable with him inside you. It really fills you up, though and the stretch is craaaazy. Also good balls.

Tim: perfectly average length, longer than it is girthy. Oddly straight. Stupidly pink. Rosy as fuck. Looks like he paid for someone to do his blush this morning, etc. Circumcised. The head is perfect, you always fall for it when he asks you to let him put in just the tip because you like it so much.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Dick: high, like, a bit of a concern type of high. The thing with him is you get him started and you both got time? That's your day. Good fucking luck getting out of there. And then he's the sort of man that can't quite keep his hands to himself also, so it spirals pretty fast because it's hard not to want him when you know he's good and tasty and ready for you.

Jason: Pretty normal. He will be the one to say no, let's just cuddle a couple of times. I think he likes the moment of non-sexual affection a bit more, though they are not in competition. He's got a healthy libido and a fuckton of stamina, so it may seem like a lot at times. He'll fall hook line and sinker every time you set out to seduce him, but he'll drag out the start a lot. He's a fan of foreplay anyway.

Tim: Tim can go weeks without having sex if he's got something to be absorbed in. He'll forgo having sex if necessary, as well, even though he likes it lots. It's kind of how like people forget to eat or drink while they're working and then when they look up and realize they haven't eaten since breakfast and it's 8pm they're ravenous. That's Tim. He will blink and the onslaught of pent up horniness will hit him, and he's like, oh I gotta fuck you for several days straight now. You kinda have to needle him to fuck otherwise if he's got a project going on, and he always stops a moment to get you bouncing on his lap, but you're done and he goes right back to work. When he's got free time, he's such a damn distraction, though. God forbid you don't have any time for him.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Dick: Depends on how tired he's feeling. He usually really refuses to go and its kinda cute seeing him fight with himself when his eyelids are dropping and he's barely kissing you anymore

Jason: he stays awake waaaay past you, likes to watch you as you sleep against him or beside him

Tim: very, but again, you gotta cradle him and lull him

[loveanddeepspaceimagines]

When you wear Bunny costume on Halloween (their reactions)

Hello guysss I'm backk? But it depends on activity on this post :)))

Since Halloween is coming soon , I've decided to write something about it.

For halloween you forced Zayne to go out with you for trick-or-treating, so now he stands at the front door, awaiting the arrival of you. Dressed as a doctor (ironic).

As he hears the front door opening, he turns around, expecting to see you in your usual matching costume.

But as he looks up, his jaw drops in surprise and awe. There, standing before him, is the most beautiful bunny he's ever seen. The costume hugs every curve of your body, accentuating your pretty legs and cleavage. The ears on the hood and little tail are fluffy and adorable.

"Wow," Zayne breathes out quietly, his eyes roaming over your form. "You look... amazing. Absolutely stunning."he mumbles.

A blush creeps across your cheeks at his reaction, and you do a little twirl, showing off the costume from every angle. "You really like it? You ask, your voice filled with excitement and nervousness.

Zayne steps closer, his hands reaching out to pull you closer, "Like it? I love it," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "You're the most beautiful bunny I've ever seen."

His hands trail down your back, resting on your hips,he can feel the heat radiating from your body, and he knows he wants nothing more than to peel off that costume and explore every inch of you.

As if reading his thoughts, you get bold and press yourself closer, your lips finding his in a passionate kiss. Zayne's eyes widen at first but then he responds eagerly, his hands roaming over your body, caressing and squeezing your curves through the fabric of the costume.

After while you two break apart, both panting and flushed with desire. "We should probably go," Zayne cove his voice bucky with need "But can't promise I'll be able to keep my hands off you all night."

You giggle, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "That's the point, isn't it?" You tease, giving him a quick peck on the lips. "Now, let's go I'm craving something sweet".

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The night of Halloween has arrived, and you've decided to surprise Xavier with a special costume. After much deliberation, you've settled on a spicy bunny costume that hugs your curves in all the right places. The white fur is soft against your skin, and the short skirt flares out , revealing just right amount of skin.

As you prepare to leave for the party, you hear Xavier's keys jingle in the lock. Your heart races with excitement and a hint of nervousness as you wait for him to enter the apartment.

The door swings open, and Xavier steps inside, his eyes widening as he takes in the sight of you. A slow, appreciative grin spreads across his face as he drinks in every detail of your costume."Wow" he breathes, his voice husky, "You look stunning, baby."

He walks towards you, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in the way the fur clings to your curves.

"Is this what you're wearing to the party?" he Murmurs, his voice low. "Because if so, I might have to keep you all to myself tonight."

You can't help but blush at his words, feeling a rush of heat between your thighs. Xavier leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers,

"You're the sexiest bunny I've ever seen, and I can't wait to unwrap my present later."

He pulls back, his eyes locked on yours, filled with a hunger that makes your knees weak. You know that this Halloween is going to be one to remember.

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You're excited for Halloween, and you've decided to wear a bunny costume that's both cute and a little spicy. You slip into the outfit, the soft fur caressing your skin as you adjust the ears on your head. The crop top hugs your curves, showcasing your cleavage, while the short shorts hug your hips and thighs. You complete the look with a pair of thigh-high boots and a fluffy tail.

Rafayel is waiting for you in the living room, and you can't wait to see his reaction. As you step out, his jaw drops, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in every detail of your costume.

"baby," he breathes, his voice low ,his cheeks heating up. "You look... wow. Just wow."

He stands up, his eyes darkening as he approaches you. He reaches out, his fingers tracing the edge of your crop top, his touch feather-light and teasing.

"Is this what you're planning to wear tonight?" he murmurs. "Because if so, I might not want to leave the house."

You giggle, feeling a rush of excitement at his reaction. "I thought you'd like it," you say with a playfully. "And what do you mean? Don't you want to go out trick-or-treating?"

Rafayel chuckles, pulling you closer, his hands resting on your hips. "Oh, I want to go out, all right. But I might have to keep you close all night, just to make sure no one tries to steal you away from me."

⋆｡‧˚ʚ ɞ˚‧｡⋆

You've decided to dress up as a bunny for Halloween, eager to surprise Sylus with your sexy costume. As you enter the party, Sylus's eyes widen in amazement, his jaw dropping slightly as he takes in the sight of you.

Sylus's eyes roam over your body, taking in every detail of your costume. He swallows hard, smirking,"y/n, you look... incredible," he Murmurs, his eyes dark with desire.

You giggle, your hand reaching out to caress his cheek. "You like it, huh?" you tease, your voice playful and flirtatious.

Sylus nods, his hand coming to rest on your waist, pulling you closer. "I love it," he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. "You're the sexiest bunny I've ever seen."he Murmurs.

Unable to resist any longer, Sylus captures your lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth. You moan softly, your hands tangling in his hair as you deepen the kiss.

As you break apart, both breathless and flushed, Sylus grins at you mischievously. "I think we should find a more private spot," he suggests, his voice low and husky. "I have a few tricks up my sleeve for you, bunny."

⋆｡‧˚ʚ ɞ˚‧｡⋆

As the night of Halloween approaches, you spend days agonizing over your costume. Finally, you decide on a cute but spicy bunny costume, complete with a fuzzy tail and floppy ears. You can't wait to see Caleb's reaction when he sees you in it.

When the big night arrives, you carefully apply your makeup, adding a touch of red lipstick and smoky eyeshadow. You slip into the costume, admiring your reflection in the mirror.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for Caleb's reaction as you step out of the bathroom. He's waiting for you in the living room, and his jaw drops as he takes in your appearance.

"Holy shit," he breathes, his eyes widening as they roam over your body. "You look... wow. Absolutely stunning"You can't help but giggle at his reaction, feeling a rush of confidence and excitement. "You like it?" you ask, doing a little twirl to show off the costume.

"Like it? I love it," Caleb replies, his voice husky with desire. "You're the sexiest bunny I've ever seen."

He steps closer to you, his hands sliding around your waist as he pulls you against him. Your heart races as you feel the heat of his body against yours, his lips brushing against your ear.

"I think we should stay in tonight," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. "I don't want to share you with anyone else."

Your skin tingles at his words, and you nod in agreement, your own desire building with eachpassing moment. "I'd like that," you whisper, your lips curving into a smirk.

As you can see I'm back againn!! It was difficult past few weeks but I'm okay now. I will be busy but I'll try to post as much as i can!

©loveanddeepspaceimagines 2024

[impish-baby]

Ooo what about a group of fae caregivers who have been watching reader for a while and deem that this baby can’t go on longer without being taken care of, to then lead the reader out into the woods to never get them go.

Love your work btw :))

Fae!!! My favorite honestly, I hope this is alright! ^^

Come along now, run away from the humdrum. We'll go to a place that is safe from greed, anger, and boredom - Fae caregivers x reader - ☘️

The woods have always felt like a second home to you. Towering trees that stretch into the clouds, babbling brooks, it's all so much more tranquil than your busting town. Sometimes, it even feels like the forrest cares just as much about you as you care for it. It's silly, you know, but it makes you happy.

The rumors of fae are forever present, but they do nothing to deter your longing for the wild. Old wives' tales are all they are, whisperings meant to keep children from wandering too far from home and getting lost. Even if there's truth to the stories, it's none of your business. Really, you just need to be polite (something you should already do) and guard your name, it isn't that difficult.

Leaves crunch underfoot as you travel the familiar path into the woods, the changing of seasons obvious. You're a little sad to see the green go, but it is only nature's coarse. The autumn season gives way for lots of good harvest at least, basket in hand in hopes of bringing a few spoils home. As you travel deeper into the trees, the sun is eventually swallowed by the canapy, beams of light being the only thing allowed through.

A fox catches your eye for just a moment, the creature staring at you from the undergrowth. You can't resist the urge to wave politey, so you do so before it scampers back into the trees. No matter how many times you see one, they're still so beautiful.

Everything is really, that's why you've found yourself crouched in front of a patch of mushrooms reaching out of the forrest floor. They're pretty, a light brown with frilled gills..

"I hope you aren't going to pick them, those are poisonous, they don't make for very good eating.."

The sudden voice from behind you causes you to fall flat on your bottom, a melodious laugh following. "Oh dear, I didn't mean to startle you.." they offer you a hand up, giggling all the while. "Are you alright, darling?"

You manage a nod as you're helped back onto your feet, thanking the man quietly. He's tall, probably taller than anyone you've ever met, and jewelry covers his form as if his beauty didn't speak for itself. His rings catch the light as he raises your hand to his lips.

"You may call me Briar, might I have your name?"

He doesn't falter for second as you shake your head, asking him to call you a nickname instead. "Oh, I get to choose, do I?" Brair rubs his chin like he's deep in thought before springing forward and playfully tapping your nose. "Sprout then, you're just a little thing, it suits you.."

You aren't the happiest about it, but you're in no position to protest. Briar only smiles and steps away, no longer in your personal space, but waiting for you. "Are you out to pick berries perhaps? I know a great spot. I was about to fetch some myself, actually.."

He's expectant, tilting his head at you. "We'll have to go away from the path, but I promise, they'll be the best thing you've ever tasted.." You're reluctant to veer away from what you know, but Brair assures you he won't get you lost, and the promise of goodies is tempting..

You think his smile can rival the sun with how bright it is when you agree, Brair taking your hand in his as you begin to walk into the thicket. It feels right almost having your hand in his, it's strange, you've only just met but he seems familiar. Like you've always known him.

"My friends and I are having a little bit of a party, actually.." He hums, swinging your intertwined hands back and forth. Brair laughs again when you ask about it, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "A welcome home party, I suppose. One for a beloved member of the family.."

It feels like it takes no time at all to come across the bushes he was referring to. The path, however, is long gone. You don't notice, attention captured by Briar guiding you to sit beside him. He was right, the berries are like nothing you've ever tasted before. They're the sweetest, nothing compares to the burst of joy they give you when you sample one.

By the end of picking, your fingers are stained pink as well as your mouth. Briar hadn't snacked on the fruit like you did, only smiling as you had your fill. "See? Good, right?" He hums, brushing your hair away from your face. "You know.. I'm sure we'll have much more yummy food at the party, I'd be delighted if you came. " Briar pays no mind to your instantaneous about not wanting to intrude and.. and if the rest of the food is as good as what you just ate..

"Perfect.." Briar is already leading you away, although you're unsure when you started walking again. "Ohh, I can't wait.."

You can hear music in the distance, the sounds of merriment beckoning you home.

[dragon-kazansky]

The song in our hearts

Lestat De Lioncourt x Female Reader

A musician with a heart that sings and an admirer who wishes to see his songbird thrive. Two beings in different worlds get caught up in each other when someone threatens to steal his songbird's spotlight. Loving Lestat isn't simple, and your life will never be the same again. What is eternity without chaos?

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Five - Dark truths

You didn't sleep at all that night. You didn't leave the house all day either. You didn't even answer the door when Amelie and Jack came over to see how you were.

They knew Noah was missing. They didn't know he was dead.

When Friday came around and no one had seen you, Jack came to the house again. He pleaded with you to come and tell him what had happened. He asked where Noah was, but you didn't answer him. You didn't come out at all.

That night the show went on without you.

Lestat had been sitting in his box waiting for you to come on, but when the piano never got wheeled onto the stage, he knew he had messed up. Revealing to you what he was like that had not been what he wanted. He should have been more careful, but Noah was angering him. That meaningless man ruined your performance.

Lestat couldn't take it any more. With Noah gone you would be able to shine. Lestat would have done things differently. You were different.

The vampire didn't stick around to watch the end of the show. Your usual slot came and went and he knew you weren't going to perform tonight.

He went to your home.

I'm outside, Chéri.

Nothing.

Please let me in.

Lestat knew you were inside and he longed to see you. He wanted to hear your voice and see your face. He wanted to reach out and hold you to him. He wanted to explain things properly.

You refused to come outside.

His voice was in your head and it was pricing you crazy. How can his voice be in your head like that? Was he really a monster or were you too freaked out and messed up to comprehend anything?

You were afraid.

I know you can hear me. You have no reason to fear me. Harming you is the last thing I could ever want.

You don't believe him. He knows it too.

Lestat looks up at your window with longing. He yearns for you. He needs you. He wants you.

Please. 

The door opens. Lestat finds himself looking at you. You're a disheveled mess and he can see the fear in your eyes. He doesn't move.

“I am sorry you found out the way you did.”

“What do you mean…?” You ask cautiously.

“Me being a vampire.”

You shake your head quickly. “Vampires aren't real.”

“Oh, but we are.” He smiles at you.

You stare at him in disbelief. Was this man crazy? Oh no… you had been to his house! The house of a crazy person!

Lestat can hear your internal struggle and shakes his head. He steps a little closer. “Listen, Chéri, I am real. I am here. I want you.”

“Why? Why me?” You want to hide back inside your house, but you also want answers.

“You are… everything.”

You don't know what he means by that. Nothing is making sense to you. You can't help feeling like he's dangerous.

“I am dangerous.”

“Stop doing that! Stop… reading my mind!”

Lestat chuckles softly. “From the moment I first heard you play I knew I had to have you. You, Chéri, are everything and more. Talent like yours is hard to find in this world. It also helps you're the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes upon… Well, second to myself.” He winks at you.

He's trying to calm you down. You can tell he's telling the truth. Though you're not sure how much you can trust him.

“Do you not want a taste? To walk alongside the unknown?” He is feeding into your curiosity, luring you in. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head. “How do I know you won't just kill me like you did to Noah?”

“That useless man had it coming. He was abusing your talents with his awful voice. He wanted to use you for his own gain in the hope of using your popularity at the theater to get famous. Well, anyone who truly approaches music would know he had no talent whatsoever.” Lestat scoffs.

“He really is dead…?”

“Oui.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Oh God. Oh God! What do I tell Jack?” You pull at your hair.

“Tell him nothing,” Lestat says, coming a little closer to your door. “Noah has left the country as far as anyone is concerned. He had no relatives here, no actual influence on anyone. He's gone. Let me help you soar.”

You look into his eyes. He's looking at you tenderly. You want to believe he's being genuine, but is he?

“I wrote you a song…” Is what you say.

Lestat stares at you in mild confusion and surprise. “You wrote me a song?”

“I did… I was inspired after my visit to your home… and I couldn't shake you from my head.”

He grins. “Is that so?”

You nod. “You… You're like a headache I can't shift. Even when I put you out of my mind, you return later. Your name is always on the end of my tongue. I look for you every Friday night in your box. I sit at my piano and I hope with all my might that my music is enough for you. Why do I care so much about what you think?”

Lestat smiles. “Perhaps because you know I appreciate your art.”

You look at him in wonder. “Is that the case? Or are you just saying that to make me trust you?”

He sighs. “You're making this very difficult.”

“You killed Noah!” You say a little too loudly.

Lestat covers your mouth with his hand. You groan and bite his fingers. He removes his hand and grins. “If you're into biting, I can help.”

You worry if you roll your eyes too hard they'll fall out the sockets. “I need time…”

Lestat lifts his chin up a little bit. “Very well. Time.” He steps away from your door. “But please don't take too long.” He walks away.

Once he's out of sight you close your door and lean against it.

The next Friday you return to the theater and try to ignore the stares from other performers. However, Amelie and Jack could not be ignored. You would have to face them, which was why you had come up with a story. A lie. Lying to the two people who looked after you all these years felt so wrong, but telling the truth would be worse.

They cornered you in your dressing room. Jack had a whole speech for you, telling you he was so worried and he didn't know if he needed ro contact a doctor for you. You let him speak before deciding to tell them the story you had come up with.

“Noah is gone. He left. We had a huge fight and it got out of control.”

“Did he hurt you?” Amelie asks, coming to sit beside you.

“No. Not physically anyway. Just my pride,” you assure her. There was some truth to that at least.

“Why didn't you say anything?” Jack asks, looking at you like a wounded puppy.

“It was my mess. I didn't want everyone to get involved. Noah was using me for his own advantage and I had had enough. I play solo, Jack. No more duets.” You look at him firmly.

“Understood.”

“I was so worried about you! You wouldn't even answer the door…” Amelie looks at you sadly.

“I'm sorry… I just had a lot to deal with.” You give her a hug.

Jack sighs and looks at you fondly. “I should have been more firm with him. Your sponsor hasn't made a donation since…”

“No. I suppose he hasn't. Is my slot still open?” You ask.

“Of course it is!” He assures you.

You smile. “Then I'll be back to playing for you. Tonight too soon?”

“Not at all.”

With all that out of the way the two leave you alone to get ready. You sigh deeply and prepare to face the music once more.

Lestat didn't appear in his box that night. Nor the Friday after, or the one after that. In fact, for the next 2 months he did not appear inside the theater. He did, however, send donations to Jack. He stopped sending gifts to your dressing room too.

Still, you couldn't shake him from your brain.

As you went into month 3 without seeing him or hearing from him, you had begun to miss him. If Lestat had wanted to harm you, surely he would have done so by now. He has plenty of chances to.

You decided to write him a small letter. You had it delivered to his house, not feeling brave enough to go there yourself.

You had chosen to forgive him.

Come to the theater Friday night. Your box is waiting for you.

It was all you could think to do to get him to return to you. As you stood off to the side of the stage waiting for your turn, you felt terribly nervous. You almost felt like you were struggling to breathe. You had sent Amelie out to check the boxes. She seemed to be taking her time.

You had moments to go before it was your turn. Amelie appeared beside you. “What took you so long?”

“Mr De Lioncourt invited me to talk to him. He asked me to give you this.” She holds up the rose. You stare at it, mesmerized by the deep red color of its petals. You take it from her gently.

“This is for me?”

She nods. “He told me he was happy you had asked him to come back. Did you two fight too?”

“Sort of…” You reply softly, still looking at the rose.

“Well, he's glad to hear you perform again.”

“Good. Tonight is going to be special.”

Amelie wasn't sure why it would be special, but she was just happy to see you back where you belong.

Your name is called. You take a deep breath and walk out onto the stage, rose in hand. You lift your head up, but ignore the audience. Your eyes drift up to his box. Lestat is sitting there, smiling at you.

You're wearing the necklace he gave you months ago. You're clutching the rose in your hand. You're looking at him.

Lestat knows you've forgiven him.

You take a seat at your piano and place the rose down where normally the music sheets would go, but you don't need them. You're only going to play one song tonight.

His song.

You begin. Lestat's ears are blessed with a melody new to him. An arrangement he has never heard before. He doesn't need to read your mind to know this is the song you wrote for him.

He's completely enamored with you.

There's a depth to your song. Without words he can understand what you're trying to say. He knows why you wrote this piece.

You felt something that night.

Perhaps the same thing he felt for you.

He wouldn't deny it.

The music ends too soon for his liking. He watches you with keen eyes as you take a bow and exit the stage. He didn't want your music to end. Lestat rose from his seat and left the box. He had to see you.

Jack wanted to question why you only played one song, but you didn't give him time to even get the question out. You went to your dressing room and waited.

The door opened moments later. You stood from your dressing table and watched Lestat approach you. He closed the door behind him, keeping out the outside world.

“That song…” He started. “Was it for me?”

“Yes. Did you like it?”

Lestat smiled as he slowly closed the distance between you both. You felt like your breathing was too loud, that he could probably hear your heart beating too.

I can.

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?” He asks, grinning.

“Get in my head.”

He chuckles. “It's one of the many things I can show you.” He holds out his hand to you. It's an invitation into his life. An invitation into the night.

You take his hand.

Lestat smiles and pulls you in close. “do you trust me?”

“We'll see.”

For now, that's enough for him.

@awanderingghost @theprettiesthead @cosmixstar @theblueslytherin @katherine2098 @sawendel @floofdeloop @sitkafay @bigbaddie45 @bluscryn

@secretisme4

[cosyvelvetorchid]

We get so much JealousBuck, but I'd like a little JealousTommy. I feel like Tommy would be more threatened by women flirting with Buck, maybe make him question if Buck might not go back to exclusively dating women because it's "easier" and more socially acceptable.

I'm not gonna lie to you - I made myself cry with this one. Thank you for the prompt, I really enjoyed writing this. 🩶

*****

"We can't keep having this same conversation, Tommy." Buck said, exasperated. "Men and women flirt with you all the damn time and I don't freak out about it."

"That's different." Tommy argued.

"Why, because you've always known who you were and I didn't?" Buck argued back.

"No. Yes. I.." Tommy didn't know how to answer that. It was, admittedly, partly because of Bucks' lack of experience with men. He was so quick to date a man he could, conceivably, be quick to go back to dating a woman. It would be the easier choice. Certainly, the most familiar to him. But it wasn't just that - Tommy was falling for Evan, and it scared the shit out of him. There was only a tiny sliver of his heart left to open up, and when it did, there would be no going back. "You've said it yourself how impulsive you can be - how do you know that you won't meet another woman and jump into that like you did with me?"

Buck looked at him dumbfounded. How could Tommy even say that to him? Bucks argumentative voice softened.

"How could you even think that?" He asked, his big blue emotion filled eyes looking back at Tommy. A vine of guilt was slithering its tendril around Tommys stomach and squeezing tightly. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you that I am with you and want to be with you, before you believe me."

"I do believe you." Tommy insisted. "I believe that you believe it. But you don't know how you'll feel in a month. Six months, a year from now."

"Yes I do." Buck said firmly.

"How? How could you possibly know that?"

"Because I trust me. I trust myself. I guess you need to decide if you trust me too." Buck told him. He slowly walked out of Tommy's kitchen and out the front door. Tommy slumped into a seat at the island and put his head in his hands.

***

Tommy parked the car at the station and tentatively walked inside. Chim was the first person to see him.

"Hey, Tommy. What are you doing here?"

"Is Evan here?" He asked looking around.

"Uh, no. I thought you were supposed to be going out tonight."

"Is Eddie here?"

"Upstairs. Is everything al-" Tommy didn't wait for Chim to finish his sentence and immediately made his way upstairs.

"Tommy. You here with Buck? I thought you had a date night?" Eddie asked as Tommy walked into the kitchen. Clearly, Buck hadn't told him about their fight. Good.

"Can we talk?" He gestured with his head to the sofas at the other end of the living area.

"Uh, sure. Everything okay?" He asked as they sat down.

"Evan and I had a fight." He told him.

"Okay. Uh, I feel like I need to remind you that I'm his best friend. I mean, you can talk to me, obviously, but I'm not sure how he would feel about that."

"I know you're his best friend, Eddie, which is why I've come to you. I figured if I'm the asshole here, you'd be the person who told me."

"Fair point. So what happened?" Eddie asked. Tommy explained everything about the women flirting with Buck at the bar they were at and the fight they had afterwards. Eddie was quiet for a moment as he absorbed all the information.

"Well, I think it's quite simple." He explained. "The question you need to ask yourself isn't 'will Buck go back to dating women?', it's 'do you trust him when he tells you you're the one he wants to be with?'. Because if the answer is no, from my perspective.. Buck isn't the problem. The call seems to be coming from inside the house, Bud."

Tommy thought about Eddie's words for a moment before sighing and letting his body fall back into the couch. He was right. Tommy needed to decide if he trusted Evan enough to know what he wanted.

***

He sat in his car outside Evans, building for almost an hour before finally going inside. As he approached Evans door, he still had no clue what he was going to say. He just hoped that seeing him in front of him would help him figure that out. He took out the key that Evan had given him a few weeks ago as they hit six months together and unlocked the door. Evan was leaning against the island facing the door. Tommy wondered if he'd been waiting there for the last few hours for him to walk in.

"Hey." He said quietly and closed the door behind him. "Evan i-"

"Stop." He held up his hand and took a few steps forward, stopping a few feet in front of Tommy. "I need to say something be-before I lose the courage." He took a deep breath. Tommy nodded, giving him the go-ahead.

"I know that us dating was a big leap of faith. For both of us. You've been hurt by guys who couldn't, or wouldn't, come out of the closet, and obviously, I've never dated a guy before. It was a risk. For both of us. And i know I walked into this not really knowing what I was ready for. But-but i took that risk because i wanted to. And-and there has not been a moment, not a single second, that I have regretted that decision. I will take that risk every day to be with you because.. because I love you, Tommy. And I know it sounds stupid, but, I think.. I feel like.. like a part of me loved you before I even knew you existed."

It was the single, most beautiful thing Tommy had ever heard. A giant, thick surge of emotion shot from his heart and lodged itself in his throat, catching his breath on the way. Water filled up his eyes, and he swallowed, trying to still himself.

"You are not the first guy on a list of guys I'm going to date, Tommy. You.. you're it for me. And yeah, I know, everyone will probably say that I'm just being the same old Buck, all reckless and impulsive, and it'll probably blow up in my face, but I don't care. I would risk that happening every day for the rest of my life if it meant I got to spend one more moment with you."

Never, in his 40 years on earth, had anybody ever made Tommy feel the way he was feeling right now. Every fear he had about this relationship, every insecurity melted away. Evans face - his gorgeous and open and earnest face - looking at him was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He had walked into Evans's apartment, not knowing how he felt or what he wanted to say. But now he did. Now, his feelings were crystal clear. And nothing in the world was going to stop the next words from coming out of his mouth.

"Marry me."

Bucks eyes open wide in unison with his mouth.

"T-tommy.. I wasn't..  that's.. " Buck was stumbling over his words more than he ever usually did. Tommy stepped forward, taking his hands in his.

"Evan, I know this seems like I'm being.. Well, being all 'Buck'.. but.." He took a breath "..and I'm not saying we should get married anytime soon - I'd wait 10 years if it's what you wanted. It's not about when we do it, it's about just how much I fucking love you, and how it would make me so God damn happy to know that you want to be my husband." Evans eyes were beginning to fill up now. His hands were shaking in Tommy's, who held them tighter.

"I was an idiot, and I am so, so sorry, Evan. What I was thinking and feeling before was entirely because of my own fear. My own stupid insecurities. I never in a million years thought I would ever find someone like you. Someone who is so beautiful inside and out, someone who makes me feel like I'm worth something. That I'm something precious that you have and -" The tears he was trying so hard to hold on finally fell down his cheeks. "-and I want to spend every second of the rest of my life making you feel as precious as you make me feel."

"I... you're right -" Evan said after composing himself. "You are being all 'me'. Proposing after barely being together for 6 months is definitely impulsive and reckless." He said, wiping the tears from his cheeks. "Would it also be impulsive and reckless if I said yes?"

Tommy felt like someone had lit fireworks in the centre of his chest. Those illegal ones that are far too big and dangerous. The ones you know could blow up, taking your limbs with them, but you buy them anyway because they're so beautiful they're worth the risk.

"Really?" He held Evans face in his hands. Tears were still caressing Tommys cheeks, but he didn't care to wipe them away. He'd happily look at Evan through wet lashes forever.

"Yes." Evan replied. Tommy pulled him forward, hard, crashing their lips together. They both whimpered at the force. Tommy wrapped his arms around Evans neck and held him as tight as he could, as though if he let go, Evan would somehow disappear like smoke into thin air. Evan pushed his face into Tommy's neck and sighed with such contentment he thought he'd float away. They stayed like that, in the middle of his kitchen, for a while.

"Evan Kinard. I like the sound of that." He spoke into Tommy's neck.

"Me too."

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Fast Food Snack

My story starts with a close, but I'm hungry...

An intimidating glare from the baggy-eyed manager tells me to back the fuck off, but I have no intention of leaving. I'm starving and this asshole has no idea who he's staring at! After all, how could an old fast-food worker named Darryl know that I just discovered the ability to control dumb little minds like his?

"Open up," I say, licking my lips at the feeling of inserting myself into his head.

Mind control isn't like how it's portrayed in movies. I don't just snap my fingers and bring victims into a vacantly drooling state. No! It's much more invasive than that, and it's much, much more unpleasant for my poor targets. Imagine a sickeningly stiff presence pushing through the back of your skull. It shoves your own ideas and intentions aside, ripping away the control you had over your body. You probably always took that control for granted, but now you can't cause so much as the blinking of an eyelid. Most people spend their time in my thrall screaming internally.

Being sidelined in your own body takes some getting used to, and Darryl isn't enjoying it in the slightest. Nevertheless, I use his hands to unlock the front door and invite myself inside.

"Please, come in," I make his gravelly voice speak, "Can I suck your dick as an apology?"

I feel the man cringe on the inside. He hates hearing and feeling his own mouth make such a vulgar offer, but his stoic face doesn't crack. This idiot is trapped inside his own mind while I get to puppet around his body. I don't even have to tell him what to do.

"Maybe later," I pinch the manager's cheek, "Let's get you deep-fried and seasoned first."

With a vice grip on his brain, I steer the fast-food worker off to do my bidding. Humiliating my playthings is the perfect appetizer...

Darryl spends the next few minutes collecting all the leftover food from the garbage, dumping it all over himself. The manager doesn't stop there, proceeding to lay on the floor and rub all the grease and ketchup into his clothes. That trademark glare stays frozen on his face the entire time he soaks in the day's old fries and ketchup.

"I'm a messy little bitch," he states blandly from the ground, "And an ugly, dumb, low-life."

His words make me chuckle, even though I'm the one making him say it. My metaphorical arm is rammed up his ass like a ventriloquist with a dummy. It's also me that's puppeting his hands to rub the food into the pits of his polo and the crotch of his khakis.

"You really should've just let me inside," I purr with my own mouth, "Now I'm gonna make you act like a messy bitch forever."

Darryl's face remains unbothered, but I feel the real man panic inside. If he had control over his eyes right now, they would be bulging in pure terror. Instead, they gaze passively back at me from the floor.

"Boss? Where'd you go?" a smooth voice interrupts my fun with Darryl.

A tall, dark, and handsome young man walks out from the back kitchen. His thick arms and bushy beard make me salivate. The name tag on his juicy pec reads 'Josh' but there's plenty of other things I'd rather call a stud like him.

"I thought you said we'd leave early if we got everything cleaned up," he grunts quietly.

The handsome fool is too preoccupied with wiping down tables to notice his manager rolling in grease and condiments. Briefly glimpsing in his mind tells me that he wants to finish his shift as quickly as possible, but I won't be letting him off work any time soon.

He jumps when he finally notices me, startled to find a customer still lurking after closing hours. His scowl shortly returns to his face as he pushes out his chest to address me.

"We're closed. You need-" his voice cuts as I commandeer his heavy body and thick neck.

With me in control, Josh's autonomy is squeezed into a corner of his skull, but he still retains all his senses; feeling his muscles relax, licking his salty lips, taking a deep breath of greasy air, and staring at his new master. I make him walk forward until his bulging chest is brushing against my own.

"I can give you a much better show than that dried-up, old, dishrag," I make him say, gesturing to Darryl with his broad hands, "My man-tits are fat and juicy just for you. Let me be your little slut. Fuck me like the breedable piece of meat I am."

Internally, Josh is furious, but his voice doesn't waver as he delivers the words I wrote for him. He's like a Ken doll I'm playing with, only none of it is pretend.

"I think I'd prefer dinner and a show," I giggle, "Why don't we let that dried-up, old, dishrag fuck your ass. He is your boss, after all."

Josh doesn't visibly react to the idea. He doesn't wince or crack the scowl I'd left on his handsome face. He just marches to the back and lays himself out on the dirty floor. Darryl follows, per the instructions I'm pumping into each of his limbs.

"Give it to me hard, boss," Josh says in a low monotone.

"Prepare for a rough ride, muscle-slut." Darryl answers his employee dryly.

Of course, internally, both men are freaking out. It's hard to tell who's more panicked; the manager who's about to dog-fuck his employee, or the roided up gym-rat who's about to take it like a bitch. Darryl wants nothing more than to pull Josh off the floor and run out of the building, but I hold his body firmly in place, making the man unbuckle his stained khakis like he's about to get lucky. Josh is the same, desperately trying to break free and attack, but I've got full control over his bulky body. I make him stick out his tongue and lick the floor like a pathetically horny animal. He still has to taste every inch.

"Papa's ready for ya," Darryl moans, pulling out the cock I easily inflated to full mast.

"Hurry Papa!" Josh squirms as he thumbs his pants below his wiggling bubble butt.

"What the hell?" a nervous voice stutters.

Turning, I find a much less impressive man walking into the kitchen. His name tag reads 'Aaron' and he must've been bullied into cleaning the bathrooms for the last twenty minutes. He's missed a lot, but it doesn't take long for me to catch him up.

"I'm enjoying a meal here!" I bite, mildly annoyed, "Shut up and make yourself useful."

His mind folds instantly to my efforts, and I know exactly how to put him to use. Aaron snaps his mouth, marches around before me, and kneels. Without a single breath of pause, his hands unzip my jeans and pull out my aching penis. He swallows it whole, bobbing his head expertly. Aaron's never done this before, but I've had a few blow jobs and I know exactly how I like it; with a throat wide open and lips at the base.

"Continue," I sigh in pleasure towards Josh and Darryl.

The pair unfreeze, resuming the messed up porno I'm forcing them to star in. The manager leans into Josh's back and enters him from behind. "You're gonna have to take Daddy's dick every time we close. Got it, boy?" he grunts down at his employee. The bearded stud looks up to his boss, and sucks some of the various condiments out of the man's stained shirt. "Yes, sir. I want to end every day like this, here, with you inside me." Darryl continues slapping his groin into Josh's splayed rear, pushing the younger man's face against the cold damp floor.

It isn't long before Aaron's expert dick-sucking leaves me cumming in his stomach. Finally, I'm satiated. "FfuuuuUUUuuuUucck..." I grunt out a long guttural moan of relief.

When my eyes flutter open, I see the mess I've left in this little restaurant...

The three men stop with the act; Aaron pauses, my dick still halfway down his throat; Josh freezes in the middle of writhing with fake pleasure; Darryl even ceases his brutal rape of his employee despite never reaching a climax. None of it matters anymore. My rocks have gotten off, so my little puppet show is over. I'm left with three terrified fast-food workers with broken wills.

"Sorry guys," I pull away and zip up my pants, "I get a little carried away when I'm horny."

"It's, ok," they all answer back nonchalantly, but I can hear their true thoughts screaming, locked away somewhere in their minds.

With a wave of my hand, I wipe the experience from their memories. I turn off their consciousness and set Darryl, Josh, and Aaron on autopilot. Like actors in a bad hypnotism movie, they rise and get back to their nightly chores. This time, their jaws are slack and their eyes are vacant. They'll finish closing down the restaurant and go home, where they'll scrub themselves clean and get a long night of rest. By tomorrow, all of the psychological and physical remnants of what I've done will be gone.

For them, it'll be like I never set foot inside this place. For me, I'll have to pretend that I didn't just become an evil and sadistic super villain. I never did end up eating any food, but I did satisfy some sort of hunger inside me...

...at least for now.

I let my urges get the better of my powers. Being a mind controller is hard. I can barely even control my own mind at times. Wandering away from the isolated, little, restaurant, I wonder how long it'll take before I lose control of myself again...

To be continued?

[igotanidea]

A pattern : Jason Todd x reader

(Part 1 of How to be a good boyfriend series)

Every word he said to her was a lie...

Or at least that was how he felt.

I'll keep you safe  - when he couldn't even keep her safe from himself. 

You're safe with me - when even as much as her leaving home meant being put on the spotlight. 

I love you - well that was true, but in his love he was so selfish it almost felt like a lie.

Selfish.

That was what he was.

Kissing her with a promise if tomorrow that could never come.

Holding and touching her, knowing he was going to leave her alone for the night. Again and again. Over and over.

Looking at her like she was his sun, moon and stars, even though that excessive attention was putting her in danger from all his enemies, real and potential.

So selfish. 

And yet he could not stop.

Not when she was making him feel the warmth inside. The sense of belonging. 

Not with the way she was bringing something long forgotten in him - happiness.

Then why did It feel like he was using her. Why did it feel like every time she laid her head on his shoulder or chest he was rather taking that warmth and serenity than giving it. Why did if feel like he was nothing more than a little kid, missing the embrace and promise of love and safety then providing it.

He shouldn't be a kid in this relationship. 

"Hey, what's bothering you?" Y/N asked softly, raising eyes onto him, reading his face, searching for the reason for the sudden tension she felt coming from him. 

"Nothing." he muttered. "I'm fine."

"Come on, Jay. Don't act like that."

"Like what?!" He bursted, suddenly getting a heavy wave of self-doubts. Even his Y/N was seeing that he was acting like a child. And this was clearly not what she needed. And now that she knew she was going to leave him alone. Break up with him. Break the heart that slowly started to open up and heal while being with her and--

"Hey. Hey, look at me!" She cried out desperately as he tried to (literally) push her away. Her hands found a way to his cheeks forcing his eyes on hers once more "Stop it. Don't cut me off. Talk to me."

"I don't know how to be a good boyfriend to you." he confessed looking down, unable to see the inevitable mockery that was going to reflect in her eyes. 

"How to--. Wait, what? Jason? Who put that thought in your head?"

"No one. I can tell by myself that I am not what you need."

"Jason--"

"No. Let me finish. I do want to be what you deserve. And that's why I asked Dick-"

"Dick? Oh my god, please don't tell me you asked the greatest playboy heartbreaker for advice in a relationship..." 

"Well, he's got some good tips on that-" Jason mumbled, though admitting that his older brother might have been right about something was at least painful. 

"No." Y/N shook her head, squeezing his hand "No. Jason. Forget them."

"But-"

"Hush. You listen to me now. Although Dick experience in the matter of relationships is undeniable - I don;t think you should take him as a role model."

"Then who, Y/N?! WHO!?" He yelled and regretted it a second later "I'm sorry-- I didn't mean too. It's just--" 

"Look, sweetheart. Lesson one, if you want it, is that there's no pattern when it comes to two people building something together. No one will tell you that when you do things a certain way it will work out. There is no magical number of things a girl and a boy have to do together to make sure they will be happy."

"There isn't?" Jason's face dropped at the sudden realisation. "But-- But then how am I supposed to make sure you are happy with me? How can I ensure that-"

"Jason."

"I really want to --"

"Hey. Stop it!" she chuckled leaning to kiss his forehead "We learn together. That's how."

"But-"

"Stop doubting yourself, okay? I am happy with you, mostly because I get to discover things I never did. Because you like them. Damn, do you think, I would even know I enjoy bike rides, if it wasn’t for you? Or would I know that I actually got the romantic part in me, if not for your Jane Austen addiction?"

"Um--" Jason blushed a little and it was so cute it made her laugh and peck his lips softly,  "Hey... what was that for?" He asked, getting even more flustered. 

"Consider it a gold star for memorising lesson one." she smiled.

"That every story is unique?" He tried to make sure.

"Yes. So let's make sure you don't ruin it with unnecessary silly thoughts, ok?"

He nodded. 

"Then I got one important question to ask...." she took a deep breath - "Jason Peter Todd... will you learn how to be in a relationship with me?"

"I will. And I hereby swear to not listen to Internet couches and tiktok charlatans."

"Finally, you're getting some common sense back..." she chuckled, knowing well enough that his words, even if a little teasing, were a sign that he trusted her. Both with learning, but most importantly - with his heart. And with that knowledge she pledged to keep that part of him safe.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Remember that ask with a s/o who had a mech? That one with firefly.

(H:SR Short Fic) Firefly's S/O using a mech

I was going to do something more comical originally, but unfortunately for everyone I just saw Gundam Narrative, which means Firefly isn't allowed to have nice things. Warnings: Angst/No Comfort, just sad robot on robot action (in the beat the shit out of each other way) Word Count: 1.8k

Firefly sat upon the roof, enjoying the peace and quiet as she stared at the stars far above in the sky. However, it wasn't long before the sounds of footsteps approached from below. She turned to the source of the sound, her lips forming into a bright smile.

(Firefly) "S/O?"

(S/O) "Hey, sorry I'm late!"

S/O was panting as they joined her, Firefly moving a little to her left to make room. They sat down close, to the point their legs were constantly brushing against hers, but neither seemed to mind. Instead of looking back to the stars, Firefly's gaze remained on S/O's own smile.

(S/O) "I was just making some final adjustments to the Phenex! I think it'll be ready to fly with you by tomorrow night!"

Firefly's eyes widened at S/O's news, leaning closer into their shoulder.

(Firefly) "Really? That's great!"

S/O beamed at her reaction, nodding excitedly as one hand wrapped around hers.

(S/O) "Honestly, I'll probably end up falling a bunch of times, but I promise, we'll find the brightest stars we can together!"

Firefly's imagination started running wild with images of S/O comically flailing about in their own steel suit, making her giggle. She couldn't wait to actually see what happened.

She opened her mouth to say something, but the words never left as she noticed S/O looked up to the sky, with a much more somber expression despite their lighthearted quip.

(S/O) "...The brightest star, huh?"

(Firefly) "...S/O?"

S/O squeezed her hand tighter as they remained silent for a moment. They seemed to grow sadder with every second that passed.

(S/O) "Did...I ever tell you the reason I even began making the Phenex, Firefly?"

She tilted her head in confusion as her brows furrowed.

(Firefly) "No, you didn't. I assumed you just wanted to be with me whenever I donned SAM."

(S/O) "Well, it was that too, but..."

Firefly felt their thumb fidget against the top of her hand as they struggled to come up with an answer, in which she simply said nothing, giving them all the time they needed.

(S/O) "I wanted to go up into the stars myself, brave whatever awaited me out there, so I could find a way to defy your fate."

Their voice started to tremble as they spoke their reason aloud.

(Firefly) "S/O..."

Finally, they turned to face her, tears welling up in their eyes.

(S/O) "That's what I'll do with the Phenex. I'll become a bird and soar, so that way I can find a way for you to be reborn."

Firefly and S/O said nothing after that declaration, staring at each other before they sighed, letting go of her hand and resting it in their face.

(S/O) "Oh my god, that sounded way better in my head than it did out loud..."

Firefly was only stunned for a few more seconds before she burst into laughter, making S/O pout at her reaction.

(S/O) "H-Hey! I know it sounded bad but you don't have to laugh that much at it!"

Both her hands rested on her stomach as it began to hurt, her laughter barely stopping as she tried her best to reply.

(Firefly) "I-I-I'm sorry! I promise I'm not laughing at you!"

It took her a minute to finally calm herself down, S/O still grumbling under their breath as they waited. Firefly gently wiped their tears away with a finger before kissing them on the cheek.

(Firefly) "It's a sweet gesture, S/O...Thank you."

S/O smiled at Firefly, resting their head onto her shoulders and closing their eyes.

(S/O) "Do you mind if I sleep up here with you tonight? I...Don't want to be alone right now."

(Firefly) "I don't think there's anything more I'd want right now than having you with me."

...

...

Firefly sat alone on another starry night, but this time there would be no one to join her. Her hands rested on each other in her lap while she stared up at the night sky, waiting for her signal.

The planet she was on now was completely different from the one S/O and her shared their last night. Instead of warm city lights, there was nothing but ruins and debris below her.

It was here where the reports of a brilliant golden machine, leaving behind a blue trail around the cosmos was sighted. Many assumed that it was some kind of divine being, or an unexplained anomaly in the universe making itself known.

But Firefly knew the truth of what it was.

Or rather, who it was.

...

...

The last step of the process was to have S/O's mind sync up with the Phenex's system. It was an extremely risky process, as this technology was still experimental and not fully understood.

Apparently, it was something that allowed the person's mind to directly translate into the machine's movements and combat capabilities, which S/O accepted the risk without hesitation.

This would be the power they needed to give Firefly her life back.

And finally settling into the suit, S/O let their mind begin synchronizing with the Phenex.

With barely a second passing, their eyes widened as their body felt a shock of pain growing faster by the second.

Firefly saw S/O's vitals rapidly spiking up and down as the Phenex dropped to one knee, screaming all the while.

(Firefly) "S/O?!"

The golden mech started to twitch involuntarily, its shield-wings shooting out and lodging itself into the facility's walls. S/O's screams were eventually drowned out by the Phenex's metallic joints creaking, almost as if it were roaring.

In an instant, flames materialized around Firefly as she dashed towards S/O, moving to rip them out of their suit. However, as soon as she made contact with them, the machine's eyes flared red and blew her backwards.

Firefly was easily able to catch herself from crashing into the floor, immediately flipping to use the walls as a launch pad as the armor's thrusters activated and she rocketed back to S/O.

The Phenex's shield wings stabbed itself into the ground and made her armor crash straight into it, making her lose course as she spiraled out of control for only a second.

Not wasting time, the Phenex's shield wings flew back behind it, and the machine flew straight up, tearing a hole through it and sped away, eventually out of sight and into the atmosphere.

...

It had been months since the incident, and Firefly was determined to bring them back. If the Phenex was still flying, then that means S/O was still alive.

As if on cue, a blue streak cut across the night sky like a knife, catching her attention and making her heart race.

(Firefly) "..."

She wanted to call out their name, but knew that they couldn't hear her anymore. What she needed to do now was to stop the Phenex.

The wind blowing her hair back was strong since she was standing at the top of a skyscraper. She knew for a fact that the Phenex would be able to detect her no matter what, so might as well choose the location that'd start the closest to them.

It took her a few seconds to stand up from her spot, and she took a deep breath, frowning as her eyes traced the blue streak that flew in a straight line above her, towards the horizon.

One foot stepped in front of the other, letting her drop from the building's edge and fall toward the ground.

Without so much as blinking, the area around her ignited as the armor's thrusters kicked into full burst, the building behind her getting scorched in the process as she gracefully weaved through the city and into the sky after the Phenex.

As elements of her HUD began blinking into view, her eyes remained focused on the blue line of light suddenly veered to her right.

With a simple nudge of her body, the armor tilted and extra thrusters emerged from the skirts of her armor to gain faster speed, feeling her body and suit both begin to heat up.

The Phenex's trail dropped completely downwards onto the streets, trying to lose its pursuer as it began wildly darting in an unpredictable manner, before it eventually disappeared into a tunnel.

Firefly quickly followed it into the temple, still not saying a word as she kept an eye on her suit's motion trackers.

Before the radar could even register the movement, the Phenex suddenly burst from the tunnel's walls, debris scattering everywhere and threatening to crush her.

She simply frowned as one punch completely obliterated the stone that tried to crash into her, eyes still following the Phenex for a split second before it tried to escape behind her.

Firefly's other arm extended outward and managed to catch the leg of the machine, before diverting her strength to fling it into the wall directly behind her, letting the Phenex slam into the stone and temporarily disabling it.

She raised her arm to disable the machine's flight unit before realizing the shield wings it had just a second ago were missing.

Alarms were ringing as signatures were quickly approaching from her flanks, making her extend both arms to catch the shields before it threatened to bisect her, Firefly's teeth clenching from the impact.

The machine's eyes stared at Firefly's helmet, and for a brief moment, its red eyes flashed a blue color.

And though it was hazy, a voice spoke out to her from the corners of her mind. It may have been her imagining things, but that didn't stop Firefly's voice from crying out:

(Firefly) "S/O!"

Seemingly unaffected by Firefly's counter, the Phenex's eyes returned to its natural state before quickly dislodging itself from its position and rocketed out of the tunnel, both shields following after.

(Firefly) "Just hang on, S/O, please!"

Even though time was the last thing on her side, she prayed that she stayed strong, at least for long enough to catch the Phenex. Firefly truly had no idea if S/O was still inside that suit considering how long it had been, but at the very least, she would avenge them by destroying the machine.

Not to mention, this machine existed because of her. It was created solely to help her, yet it seemed to be dragging both her and S/O to Aeons know where.

But she didn't care about where it was taking them, only that she rescued the person who gave their life for her.

Firefly's armor crouched before taking off, denting the concrete below her as it was left scorched by all her thrusters activating, flying after the Phenex.

...

There were many researchers and travelers who spoke of seeing a red comet chasing after a blue one in the skies that night.

No one had any idea what it was, but everyone watched in a mixture of awe and confusion, watching as the comets eventually took off into space, off towards a destination unknown.

[tacticaldiary]

Roses and Purple Scarves

PAIRING: Spencer Reid x Reader

SYNOPSIS: He catches her eyes in the window's reflection, and there's a small part of him that's waiting to catch the frown on her face, or see her nodding along while looking down at her phone pretending to listen.

His heart skips a beat when he finds her looking directly at him with a smile, eyes so soft and interested it makes something warm settle in the pit of his stomach.

NOTE: I am NOT taking requests at the moment.

"Spencer I don't need more flowers," She laughs, trying to yank at his arm to get him moving. It's to no avail by the way he stays rooted to the spot in front of the display window. "I still have the last bouquet in a vase at home."

"I know." He says it so matter of factly, it makes her raise her brows and stop tugging.

"What do you mean 'you know?'" She relents, joining him to look into the store's window.

"I keep a flower from all your bouquets for myself. That way I know when they wilt so I can get you new ones." She's stunned at the answer, the gesture is so thoughtful and...and nice. It's so Spencer, and by the half smile on his face he's trying to hide, he knows it too.

"You're too good to me." She says after a beat, meeting his eyes in the window's reflection, "I don't need a dozen roses to know you love me, for the record...but they are appreciated."

"Flower language." Spencer hums, peering through the glass at the colorful array of petals. "It's fascinating actually, people tend to associate the origin of floriography to be from the old victorian era, but traces of meaning can be tracked all the way back to Persia and the Middle East much before that." He catches her eyes in the window's reflection, and there's a small part of him that's waiting to catch the frown on her face, or see her nodding along while looking down at her phone pretending to listen.

His heart skips a beat when he finds her looking directly at him with a smile, eyes so soft and interested it makes something warm settle in the pit of his stomach. Spencer blinks, turns to face her for real. "I read a book about it a while ago," He shrugs, offering her a smile.

"I'd love to borrow it sometime." She responds, looping their arms together. It's a chilly day, snowflakes peppering down casing the cobblestone street below in specks of icy white.

"Really?" Spencer raises an eyebrow.

"You know I love flowers." She confirms as they continue down the little street. "I've always wanted to have a garden of my own, but the balcony of my apartment isn't big enough."

Spencer listens attentively, keeping her close to his side. It's instinct, the way his gloved hand rests against her waist as they walk, the gentle push and pull of weaving through among other people going this way and that. The contact makes her feel warm and wanted, a small gesture that encompasses all of what Spencer is.

Meaningful. If she could describe Dr Spencer Reid with one word, it would be meaningful. Everything he does is purposeful and attentive.

Remembering how she takes her coffee in the mornings without her ever mentioning it. Watching her frown at the days crossword because he knows that if she wants his help she'll ask for it (even if Spencer can't help but cringe at her sighing dramatically loud at a puzzle he'd solved in his head 25 minutes ago). It was the little things, woven with meaning that made her feel seen.

Made her feel understood.

Reaching down between them, she grabs his hand, intertwining their fingers, squeezing gently.

"You could always look into aeroponics." Spencer smiles as they come to a stop in front of a crosswalk. He pushes the button with his elbow and the both of them are left to wait for the indication to cross.

"The exposed roots freak me out." Remembering the pictures she's seen sends a shudder down her spine. "I mean, it doesn't look natural does it? Plants were meant to come from the earth, watching them dangling in the air just feels wrong," When she glances up to gauge his agreement, the rest of the words die on her tongue.

Spencer stares at her with a soft smile and enamoured eyes. If you asked him, he wouldn't be able to repeat half of what she'd just said despite his impressive memory.

It's frightening, how often he gets lost in her. In the way she furrows her brow, the manner in which she moves and the cadence of her voice that make him lean in closer to hang on to every small inflection like a siren's melody.

"What?" She asks, brow furrowed. "Have I got something-" He leans down and steals the words from her before she can finish, kissing her soft but firm, hands tangling in the hair at the back of her head. He can't help it, especially when he sees the little parts of himself that she's adopted, mirrored from how much time they spend together. Time and time again she's assured him that she thinks his monologues and rambling are endearing, pulled him out of his head with sweet words and lips when he gets too wrapped up in himself.

He's starting to understand. Watching her talk about roots and plants...God, she could talk about paint drying and he'd listen and commit each word to memory.

Kissing Spencer isn't fireworks.

It's a symphony.

From start to finish, he puts his heart into every movement, feeling bleeding into every quirk of his hands, every tilt of his head.

She mumbles his name against his lips and he barely stops himself from chasing her when she pulls back with a hand on his chest. Taking a minute to catch her breath, she graces him with a radiant smile that knocks his away. "I didn't know you loved plants that much."

"I love you." He knocks their foreheads together.

The indicator flashes green across the street, prompting them to cross, but the two stay where they are letting the atmosphere sink in. Spencer smiles softly, moving to brush off the snowflakes on the shoulders of her coat.

"You're cold." He observes when his hand brush against her neck.

"It is snowing." She smiles. Spencer huffs, unwinding his scarf from around himself. Ignoring her protests, he wraps it around her snugly.

The purple is a horrific clash to her outfit, but it's warm, and it smells like him, the calming scent washing over her as she sinks into it and takes a deep breath. "Won't you be cold?"

"I've survived worse." He chuckles when she smacks his shoulder.

"That's not funny!"

"It's a little funny." He argues, smiling against her lips.

The crosswalk flashes red, cars start moving but the world stays still around them.

Reblog, Like and Comment!

(19/04/2024)

[ki-yomii]

careful | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 2.2k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dom!jk, sub!reader, dirty talk, mild dom/sub dynamics, orgasm control/edging, slight brat kink, slight brat tamer!jk, pet names, degradation kink, praise kink, mild dacryphilia, finger fucking, sub drop, pussy smacking, wet & messy ➥ summary | you should always be careful what you ask for ➥ notes | what's that - posting a fic that isn't any of my wips/requests? more likely than you think 🥲

i started writing today with the intent to work on my vampire jk fic cuz spooky season. instead, i found myself here... i'm sorry 💀

also i’ve seen enough run episodes to know you don’t want jk’s hands smacking you anywhere 😬

🩷 masterlist | inbox | AO3 🩷

“Look at me, baby.”

The low warning cuts through your muffled whines, Jungkook’s weight pinning you to the wall. Thick fingers grind deep inside your cunt, digging into your g-spot mercilessly.

Pressure builds behind your hips, borderline painful as you shift around in a vain attempt to dislodge him.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he says, “You know better.”

Whenever Jungkook speaks, his voice scrapes down your spine, low and whiskey rough. His chest is a long line of heat, plastered to your front from stem to stern.

The rapid gallop of his heartbeat echoes your own rabbit-fast rhythm, the scent of his cologne clogging your nose and clouding your thoughts.

He bites out your name, the palm shackling your hands above your head squeezing your wrist. Blunt nails dig into the delicate skin of your pulse point.

A silent prompt you know better than to ignore. And yet, the temptation to do so is almost too much.

Keen awareness roots low in your belly, dripping down between your thighs like candle wax. Your thighs tense with the strain of controlling the involuntary drop of your hips; the urge to rock down into his touch choking the breath from your lungs.

“I…”

The instinct to comply is almost Pavlovian. After all, you’re Jungkook’s good girl, aren’t you? Loved and fucked and trained to his liking.

(But how can you be good when he looks at you like that? It’s just not fair.)

Being good all the time is boring.

No. Your mouth snaps shut, and any response you have turns to ash on your tongue. The words catch on the backs of your teeth like candy. Not this time.

“Why are you being like this, huh?” Jungkook’s brows shoot towards his hairline, his dark head ducking to try and catch your eye. “I know I taught you better.”

How could you ever forget the rules when he’s fucked them into you so thoroughly? Took you apart piece by piece only to stitch you back together in his image - his precious little darling made to take his cock and swallow his cum.

“You really don’t wanna play this game with me right now. Trust me.”

Breath lodging somewhere in the middle of your throat, and tasting suspiciously of regret, you shake your head and dig your heels in. Resist the urge to crumble at his feet, beg for forgiveness with your mouth, your hands.

It’s already too late to back out - it’ll just be worse for you if you do.

Jungkook might hide his less… savory traits better than most, but you’ve experienced his greedy kisses firsthand, felt the tug of his teeth and tasted the salt of his skin. Heard his ragged moans honey sweet in your ear, felt the harsh grind of his body along yours.

When he smiles, it’s wicked, "Last chance. Show me those pretty eyes of yours, baby.”

Anticipation hooks behind your navel, stomach swooping as heat curls up in the valley of your hips. Blood rushes in your ears, starting as a slow thrum that crescendos into a rapid drum. Your heart tattoos itself into your ribs.

Licking your lips, your refusal shudders from you in a throaty rush, “No.”

A low hum fills the following silence, noncommittal. The mounting tension threatens to strangle you, sets your teeth on edge. Sparse hairs at the nape of your neck prickle.

And then, before you have time to consider taking it all back, plush lips ghost over the hollow below your ear. Whisps of dark hair whisper over your skin, soft and ticklish. Shivers race down your spine, spread through your fingers and toes.

“Alright, have it your way,” Jungkook smothers his words in the tender slope of your neck, “but remember: you asked for it. Don’t come crying to me afterward.”

Readjusting, Jungkook’s broad shoulders curve forward and the slackened hand on your wrists renews its grip. The cold tip of his nose traces along your jaw, inhaling the perfume of your silken skin.

An exhale shudders from him in a vulgar husk of breath. When you clench around his fingers still buried inside you, he laughs low and mocking.

“Damn, baby, your pussy’s just sucking me in. You really wanna cum that bad?” Kisses pepper up the side of your face, skirting the side of your mouth. “Heh, yeah, I know you do - such a dirty little slut.”

“Oh!” You sigh, sparks sizzling through your limbs, as Jungkook flexes his fingertips playfully against your swollen g-spot. Your hips tilt into the touch. “Hah…”

“That feel good, huh?”

A low keen escapes when he draws your earlobe into the moist heat of his mouth, his lips clamping down while the sharp points of his canines roll the tender fat. Little kisses of pain burn, brighten the arousal blooming deep within you.

“Yeah, of course it does,” Jungkook breathes, his voice low and husky in your ear as he strokes at your fluttering walls. “Just look at you.”

Unable to swallow the broken gasp of his name when he hits your favourite spot at the right angle, you tremble against his chest from where you’re pinned and squeeze your eyes shut, “J-Jung--!”

Holding up your own weight on weak knees is an endurance sport - one you’re losing as they bow and shake, threaten to give out. At the same time, your arms feel like lead, going numb from having them suspended over your head for so long.

Head light and floaty, your nails bite into the backs of his hands as a sharp spike of pleasure slices through you. “I’m--”

“Gonna cum soon?” Jungkook asks, the devilish grin tugging at the corners of his sculpted mouth more a baring of teeth. “Don’t lie to me.”

At your frantic nod, he tugs his fingers free from the tight clutch of your body with a sloppy squelch. Slick oozes from your cunt in a sticky rush that wets your inner thighs, your gut clenching hard with hollow satisfaction as he rips the ebbing flow of your orgasm away without warning.

“Shit!” 

The noise you make at their loss is low and wounded, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes. Your body locks up so hard your stomach aches, walls fluttering as a cramp knots up behind your hips.

Your swollen clit throbs with angry sparks of pain that make you whine and wince, orgasm thoroughly ruined.

“W-Why did you…” Voice cracking around a hiccupping sob, you pitch forward into his powerful chest. “Jungkook--”

“You know why.” His reply cuts you off, chilly and brusque, while he stares at you without remorse, “I gave you a chance to change your mind.”

“But I -”

“Stop.”

Sniffling, you peer at him from beneath damp lashes.

Breathless and feral, Jungkook stands before you a vengeful god, robed in shade and shadow. It’s criminally unfair how good he looks; jaw clenched, eyes twin black holes that threaten to pull you in.

Harsh, hooded, hungry as they trace over the tear tracks cutting lines down your cheeks, the quiver of your lips. In moments like this, he’s as beautiful as Belladonna and twice as deadly.

“I don’t know why you’re even trying to sweet talk your way out of this.” 

If his glare alone wasn’t enough to curb your tongue, then the shuttered expression carved into the planes of his regal face would.

Displeasure sits heavy on his brow, tucked into the corners of his mouth like an ill-fitting mask. Then his hand is slipping between your shaking thighs once more, the backs of his knuckles dragging over your abused, messy folds.

Jungkook hums when you sigh, jolt at the touch, and says, “Now, shut up and be a good girl for me.”

It’s deliciously painful, like blowing on numb fingertips in winter. Your legs spread wider to accommodate him on instinct alone.

Head rolling back to rest against the wall, the cool stone heaven on your sweaty neck.

And then a strike, viper quick, lands on your exposed pussy. Your reprieve ripped away and smashed at your feet as the wet, sloppy sound of an open palm making contact with tender flesh almost drowns out your wounded cry.

“A-Ah!”

You flinch away from the touch, flickers of pain pulsing through your sensitive clit. Nerve endings burn with sensation. Tiny cavities pepper your field of vision, the world a blurry kaleidoscope of color through pooling tears.

It’s hard to think, harder to breathe through the lingering throb and mounting shock.

Jungkook didn’t hit you too hard (he knows your limits), though he may as well have with how hypersensitive your pussy is. And still, amid prickles of pain, fresh arousal gushes from you to soak the length of his palm.

Cooing, he says your name, his lips cradling the syllables like a precious secret as his hand rubs circles over your mound. “Are you finally going to listen to me?”

Air hisses through your teeth as his fingers dip into your entrance, and it’s all suddenly too much. You drop too far, too fast. Lost and left adrift. Small. Fragile.

Heart lurching in your chest, the bitter ache throbbing in time with your pulse. Reminding you of how empty you are.

Sobs drip from your lips like dew drops, unintelligible words frantic as they break through the great, heaving gasps, “J-Jungkook, I can’t… Please, ‘m sorr- I can’t.”

“Oh, baby. You look so pretty when you’re such a fucking mess.”

Your breath hitches.

It feels like your skin’s too small, stretched tight over your bones until you’re bursting at the seams. The slightest touch will make you shatter to pieces, scattered across the floor like shards of fine china. 

Before you spiral too far beyond his reach, Jungkook guides you back, keeping his voice low and gentle in your ear while he shushes your warbling sniffles. Affection softens his smile, his eyes dark with perverse pride.

“Stop crying,” he chides tenderly, circling your clit with a ginger thumb. “You’re fine, promise. I’m here, I’ve got you.”

Kisses wick away the last of your tears, sweep over the delicate skin of your undereye.

“You did this to yourself.” Jungkook searches your eyes for confirmation, his brows furrowed and lips pursed. “You know that, don’t you?”

You nod, albeit stiltedly.

There are always consequences when you try to give him a taste of his own medicine - some worse than others. This time, you took things a little too far.

Now your cunt’s going to suffer the consequences of your stubbornness, but maybe if you butter him up beforehand…

The bob of his Adam’s apple captures your attention, your eyes tracing over the slope of his jaw, the tick of muscle as he grits his teeth.

Gnawing on your lip, you weigh your options.

You both know you hoped this would happen when you started acting bratty. Jungkook knows your dirty thoughts and filthy fantasies, how soaked you get from the thought of being pinned down, helpless.

Forced to take everything he gives.

… It isn’t even a question worth asking.

“Didn’t catch that.” Jungkook’s lips twitch with amusement, his fingers biting into the soft fat of your hip. “Come on, you’ve gotta use your words.”

The despair gripping your throat in a vice loosens with his lighthearted tone. Wetting your lips, you take the first step towards sparring yourself a brutal punishment by apologizing.

“I know it’s my fault - and I,” you swallow the flood of saliva pooling under your tongue, “I’m sorry.” 

"Mm, apology accepted." Jungkook hums, tracing the seam of your puffy pussy. “I’m so lucky I’ve got such a good fucking girl all to myself.”

Heat sinks into the apples of your cheeks, your thighs clamping closed around his wrist. There’s no denying the needy twitch of your hips at his words. A pleased rumble vibrates through his chest and into yours.

“Yeah, you like when I call you a good girl, baby?”

You whine, your eyes rolling back and your lashes fluttering.

Heat pulses through your belly in rhythmic waves, the residual pleasure from your interrupted orgasm kindling to light with little effort. You’d been so close, your body still desperate for relief. Thoughts slow and syrupy, cunt soaked and sloppy.

“Jungkook, please - lemme cum.” You try to rock down on his fingers only for his hand to restrain your hips. ”Fuck! Promise I’ll be good this time - jus’ need to…”

He tsks, saying, “Shh, you can cum all you want.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank-”

“If,” his smile is knife sharp, his eyes full of mischief, his words honey sweet, “you keep your eyes open and on me the whole time.”

Oh.

Oh no.

You’ll be dumb and drooling, starry-eyed and stupid once he stuffs you full. The burning stretch of his fat cock buried balls deep in your gummy walls while the spongy head slams into your g-spot without mercy, your cunt milking his shaft with every gushing orgasm fucked out of you. His name a holy prayer on your tongue.

There’s no fucking way.

Jungkook knows you barely remember to breathe once he’s on top of you, let alone maintain eye contact. Your inevitable failure will taste all the sweeter when it fizzles, pops, bursts under the bite of his teeth.

“Wait, wait, wait!”

“Good luck, baby.”

Panic grips you by the throat, your eyes wide and pleading. “Jungkook-”

“You’re gonna need it.”

Well, shit.

[semperama]

maxiel, hurt/comfort, just a little something I threw together to comfort myself after today.

Somehow, Max ends up following Daniel back to his motorhome. His mouth is still going a mile a minute, but Daniel isn't hearing distinct words anymore, only a low and comforting hum. He's tried to remember to nod every now and then. To smile. Otherwise Max might stop.

"Don't you have a ton of shit to do?" Daniel says when he can find a gap. He digs his phone out of his pocket with his good hand, glances at the absurd number of notifications he has, then tosses it down on the table. He can deal with that later. Or never.

"Huh?" Max says, and when Daniel looks up at him, he seems legitimately perplexed, like he's completely forgotten where--and who--he is.

"It's your home race, mate," Daniel says. "Don't you have a fuckton of press or whatever?"

"Oh." Max looks at his watch, frowns, then shrugs. "I don't really care. They can survive without asking me the exact same questions for the hundredth time, I think."

Daniel snorts. Max is probably right. What are they going to do, fire him? "As long as you don't get me in trouble," he says. He turns and flops down onto the couch, then winces, hisses, when it jostles his hand. "Fuck."

"Careful," Max says, rushing closer, his hands hovering. His voice is so...it's like something he'd use with his nephews, admonishing and gentle, and Daniel feels his throat close up, his eyes burn.

"I'm fine," he says, flapping his free hand at Max. "They have me wrapped up so tight, you could whack me with a hammer and I'd be fine."

Max frowns at him. "Let's not test it, alright?" He sits down next to Daniel, gingerly. It's awkward, sort of. Daniel hates visiting with people in this cramped space--sitting on the miniature sofa, nothing to look at but the kitchenette, the tiny window filled entirely by a rectangle of the wall of the motorhome next door. And now, he's too exhausted and in too much pain to be entertaining.

Still, he doesn't want Max to leave.

"Did they give you good pain meds?" Max asks.

Daniel lets his head tip back, and he closes his eyes. "Yep," he says, "but I'm just on Tylenol right now. The other stuff makes me feel sick." He takes a deep breath in, blows it out slow, focuses on the way his chest rises and falls. He can feel Max next to him, the heat of him. He knows how much he'd have to lean sideways for their bodies to be touching. "I'll take something stronger before bed, maybe." Then, because it's Max and Max is safe, he adds, "I wish I could just go home."

Fingers--warm and gentle--on the side of his face, first, and then on his neck, then gripping his shoulder, squeezing carefully. "I can leave, if you want," Max says.

They aren't like this with each other. They touch each other, sure--fist bumps, shoulder pats, hugs if they haven't seen each other in a while, all carefully platonic--but they don't touch like this. Daniel can feel Max's thumb on the skin just above the collar of his shirt, and it's hard to breathe, suddenly. He keeps his eyes squeezed shut.

"You can stay," he says.

What is this? Pity? He wants to look at Max's face, but he's too fucking scared. Scared he'll burst into tears or--or something even worse than that. Things have been so good. He didn't even realize how much he missed Max until he was seeing him this much again, laughing with him all the time, catching his eyes from across a room or across a table or across Checo's oblivious head and feeling...at home. Feeling like someone understands him and wants him around and--and wants him. Just him. Just as he is.

But Max has his own shit going on. His own life. His own friends. A fame Daniel won't match in his wildest dreams. Sometimes it feels like their roles are reversed from when Max first came to Red Bull. They have a similar rhythm, but Max is slightly out in front.

And now Max is touching him, and Daniel's not sure he can catch up.

"Or you can go," Daniel adds, quieter. "Whatever you want. I might pass out soon anyway."

Max's thumb slides along his collar and dips underneath. Daniel sucks in a sharp breath, anticipating it when Max slides his hand back up to his jaw and tugs it carefully toward him. Daniel's eyes are still shut when Max's mouth presses against his.

It's weird how much it doesn't feel weird. Max's mouth is so familiar against his that, if it weren't for his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest, Daniel could swear they'd done this a hundred times already.

"I don't want to leave you," Max says, his lips soft against Daniel's cheek, then pressing again to the corner of his mouth, like he can't bring himself to put even an inch between them again. And yeah, Daniel gets it. He does.

"Fine by me," he says. If it weren't for his stupid fucking busted hand, he'd have pulled Max closer already. "Just be gentle with me."

It's a joke, kind of. He's not sure why he has to reach up and thumb a tear away from the corner of his own eye.

"Of course," Max says, and kisses him again. Again. "Of course."

[sachiko6243]

You are ours to please

Summary: just pure smut, not much plot. This is the epiloge of a fanfiction I have written on Wattpad. Its called "the prophecy of the elven warrior" A fanfiction dealing with Visha the main character drawn between the Commander of the marchwardens and the prince of Mirkwood. Feel free to check it out, as it is finished now when I posted this. 😉🥰

Word count: 4521

Warnings: smut, threesome, rough sex, dom! Haldir, dom! Legolas, sub! reader, double penetration, anal, blackout and aftercare. This contains adult content. Minors DNI!!!

I found myself in the bathroom of Haldir, Legolas and my room in Imraldis. The three of us managed to sneak away as the festivities of Legolas and my wedding were on a high, hoping that our disappearance would go unnoticed. It would be very unlikely between all the elves, but I couldn’t help myself but hope. Now I was naked in the big bathtub, that had more in common with a pool than a bathtub. It was embedded in the ground, deep enough that I was covered up to my chest when standing.

Legolas had joined me in the tub, while Haldir was sitting on the edge, watching us with his usual strong gaze. Like a predator, Legolas had slowly stalked me down, until I found myself pressed against the edge and between Haldirs legs. His naked thighs caging me in, hands holding me by my shoulders as if he was presenting me to Legolas.

Soon the other ellon was standing in front of me, a sly smile on his lips, as he saw in my eyes how much this position turned me on. “You like that, don’t you?” He asked and I couldn’t help but blush, looking aside to hide my embarrassment. Haldirs callused fingers tilted my head back to look at Legolas. “Answer him, meleth. How much do you like this?”

“Very.” I softly whispered, not really able to get much more out of my mouth. Legolas grin turned wolfish, as he took another step towards me. “By Valar how much I love it, when you are a little slut for us…” He turned to looked at Haldir. “Isn't she beautiful like this? Flustered and riled up. Ready to take us as we please?” A growl grew behind me, the grip on my shoulders reaching lower, weighing my breasts. “Indeed, it is, gwanur. Makes me want to take her right here. See how much she is able to take.”

His words felt like they had a double meaning. And when Legolas ears perked up, I knew they had planned something. “Well… there are ways to test how much she is capable to take. I wonder if she is willing to do it.” Them speaking about me, as if I wasn’t in the room, set something free in me, that I didn’t know I had. Immediately, I melted into Haldirs hands, not really thinking about where I was and what they had planned. All I could think about was them filling me up. Marking my body and fucking me senseless.

That’s why I nearly missed Haldir speaking up again: “Look at that. She is already a goner and we haven’t really started. Are you sure you want to do this, gwanur? She doesn’t look like she can handle much more…”

“Please…” I begged. “I want to do it.”

“You don’t even know what it is, nin iell.” Haldir whispered into my ear, causing goosebumps to spread over my body. “I don’t care.” I whimpered. “I need you. Both of you. Now. Please. Make the heat go away… I cant… I need…” My sentence got interrupted with the sudden moan that rang through the room, when Haldirs fingers squeezed my nipples between them.

Legolas closed the distance between us, pressing me against the cold stone tiles on my back. Even though the water was hot, it suddenly felt cold compared to the heat that rose in my body. “You wanna take us both? At the same time?” He asked, speaking out what both of them had in mind. I froze at the offering, my eyes widening in shock, snapping between the two men. There was no uncertainty, no tease in them. Just honest curiosity and honest worry about me. “You don’t have to, nin galad. We don’t want to pressure you.” Legolas quickly added, misreading my silence as fear.

“Okey.” I said, trying to make my voice sound strong, but I failed miserably.

“What?” Legolas asked.

“I wanna try it.” I repeated, clearing what I wanted. “You made me curious and now I wanna know.”

Both men exchanged a look, before the sly smiles crept upon their faces once again. “You are such a good little slut for us, do you know that?” Haldir asked, close to my ear and his tone send shivers down my spine. “Such a greedy little girl. So desperate to be fucked, that you don’t care about anything else, isn’t that right?”

“Yes!” I exclaimed, letting my head lull back against his stomach. “I want you to take me. Please. I need you!”

“Start it!” Haldir growled and Legolas didn’t hesitate for one second, catching my lips in a searing kiss.

As my hands lifted, one to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the damp strands of hair, and the other to his biceps, Legolas shoulders relaxed. His body was impossibly warm, skin searing beneath my palms as I pressed myself forward, reveling in it. Legolas soft and warm lips curved into a soft smile as his free hand found my waist. My heartbeat feeling too fast, too heavy for me to comprehend anything else.

When his tongue pressed to the seam of my lips, eager to deepen the kiss and sink entirely into it, the reprieve of the water was lost. There was only heat; the wall of muscle that was his body, the soft press of his hands as they gripped my hip, his mouth as he swallowed the noises of my pleasure eagerly, his heavy groan as I pressed even closer.

It silenced every thought that raced through my mind. I had imagined this a thousand times before, dreamt about it more often than I dared to admit. Having them both take me at the same time was something that had wandered my mind a long time, but I was always too scared to asked them to do it. Fearing they might be taken aback by it, or worse lose their respect for me.

With every swipe of his fingers, touch teasing as he brushed along the expanse my stomach, up my sides, just beneath the swell of my breast, my body grew warmer. It was all dizzying, more than I could have ever asked for.

Any thoughts of the future, the past, the moments in between, all ceased to exist as Legolas nipped at my bottom lip, biting into it, and dragging a loud moan from my throat. And when I broke the kiss to catch my breath, he simply redirected. His lips brushing along the curve of my jaw, down my throat, marking the soft skin of my shoulder and neck. Warm hands trailed lower, fingers wrapping around my thighs and lifting to hitch me over his hips as his teeth nipped at my pulse point just beneath my ear. “We thought about this a long time.” He whispered; his voice strained in harsh self-control.

“You’ve…?”

Luckily, he managed to follow my train of thought where my voice failed. “We have lost track of how often, meleth.” He admitted, pausing only to mouth at the valley of my breasts. “It has been a deep wish for both of us. Have you take us at the same time. Caught between us, nowhere to flee, nowhere to hide. Forced to take the pleasure we give to you.”

As difficult as it was to formulate a coherent sentence, I blinked through the blurry vision that started to form in front of my eyes. “Thought about it too.” It was breathless, as Legolas hands lifted to my breasts, his touch certain as he kneaded the soft skin. “Wanted this. Both of you the same.” I added to make clear that I was consenting to this.

“We know.” Now it was Haldir that took lead of the conversation, enabling Legolas to fully concentrate on what he was doing. “You’re not subtle, nin iell.”

I gasped, not knowing if it was because of Legolas suddenly sucking on my nipple, or Haldirs confession that they knew I wanted it the whole time. Warm desire, syrupy and all-consuming, filled my stomach. Lust clouding my thoughts. He made it difficult for me to do more than groan, desperate for his touch, as the anxiety I had felt dissipated with each swipe of his fingers. They had a way of making me feel as if I was the only person in the world, the only one worthy of their time and attention.

“Please.” The plea was muffled, breathed into the night, but Legolas understood. His hum of acknowledgement was accompanied by one last sharp tug on my nipple, making me gasp. “I know, nin galad.” His hand dipped between my thighs, fingers ghosting along the sensitive inner skin as he met my eyes. “We are going to give you what you want.”

Soft hands ghosted along my thighs, pressing closer and closer to the aching center as Legolas leaned in to nose at the hinge of my jaw. A plea for more was on the tip of my tongue, a request for him to just touch me where I wanted it the most, but before I could ask, his fingers swiped through my folds. His thumb caught on the sensitive bundle of nerves and sent a jolt down my spine.

Legolas mouth curving into a grin, eager to hear just how good he made me feel. I imagined he would tease, take his time to work me into a frenzy. But his touch wasn’t rushed, there was no need for him. He knew he had all the time in the world.

There was a deliberateness to the swipe of his fingers through my folds, a sharp precision that had my vision turning blurry at the edges as he finally sank a finger into my heat, my body arching into his as he shifted even closer. Haldirs grip of his fingers pressed me against his abdomen, holding me upright as Legolas blue eyes searched my face. The grip would likely leave a bruise but I couldn’t wait to see the outline of his touch in the morning. Giving evidence of what had happened.

Focused on my pleasure, I felt the press of his cock against my hip growing more noticeable with every swipe of his fingers. The hard, heavy appendage twitched with each moan that escaped my mouth, with every gasp, as his fingers brushed against the spot that had me seeing stars.

Though the water and dimmed fair light made it difficult to see much, I could clearly see the size of him as my fingers swiped at the sensitive head. The thought of feeling him, of taking all that he had to give, made me clench around his fingers causing him to groan: “Careful of what you are setting in motion, because if you think that’s going to distract me from ruining you, you are wrong.” Behind me, I could hear Haldir chuckle lowly at his words, his fingers finding their way once again to my breasts and lower.

Slowly pushing me forward, he sunk into the water behind me, his hot and hard body pressing against my back and I could feel how turned on he got by just watching. When he had reached low enough to take a hold of my knees, he lifted me from the floor. Now I was hanging in his arms, unable to do much more than twitch, while Legolas worked me relentlessly.

The press of his fingers growing more insistent with every swipe of my hand, with every brush of my thumb over the sensitive head of his cock, and with every gasp that left my lips. He mouthed at the damp skin between my breasts, breath fanning over my hard nipples and leaving me with goosebumps, as his thumb circled my aching clit.

“Please.” He hummed at my pleads, as my fingers tugged at his hair. “Want to feel you. Need to feel you.” I pleaded, eager to finally feel them after spending so long imagining this moment. “Please.”

A small part of me expected a taunt, a tease from at least one of them, that called me a needy slut, but they seemed just as desperate as I was. “Whatever you want, nin iell.” Legolas acquiesced, hand leaving my center after a final circle to my bundle of nerves. Even as I whined at the loss, he shushed me. “Its alright, little one. We are here to take care of you.” Haldir shifted his position, tapping my leg to encourage me to wrap it around Legolas waist. The younger ellon smirking at the shaking of my limbs, as I waited to finally feel him. He kept his eyes trained on my face as he took a brief moment to tease.

The head of his cock caught at my entrance, pulling a soft gasp from my mouth as my hands wrapped around Haldirs neck to gain some sort of stability. I tipped my head to kiss the man holding me, desperate to kiss him for a long time now, as Legolas began to press forward.

Every inch of Legolas filling me felt incredible, too much but not quite enough at the same time, and I allowed myself a moment to revel in the feeling, moaning into Haldirs mouth. Having both of them so close, and being full of Legolas, was overwhelming in the best way. Haldir eagerly swallowed my noises of pleasure, took them in stride as he gave me a moment to adjust to the feeling of Legolas buried deep inside my core.

Legolas didn’t move, waiting for us to break our kiss. Slowly Haldir loosened my grip around his neck, wrapping my arms around the other elf instead. I wanted to argue, but the words I wanted to speak falling out of my head, when I felt Haldirs hands move. He started to stroke my sides, slowly making his way lower and down my back, gripping my ass tightly. I twitched in anticipation, my walls fluttering around Legolas cock, making him growl slightly. “Are you still sure about this?” Haldir asked and I nodded. “Words, nin ithil. I need you to say it.” He demanded, quickly dipping into his commanding voice.

“I am sure. Please. I want to feel you both.” I whimpered, clinging on to Legolas, split in fear and hot anticipation that run through my veins.

“Okey. Than stay like that. Its going to make things easier.” Haldir said and I could feel him move around. “Try to relax as much as possible. You are going to feel pressure. Just tell me, when its getting to much, or you want me to go slower, okey?”

“Okey.” I shut my eyes, searching for my safe place inside of me. Then I could feel the cold tip of his fingers press against my anus. Out of reflex I tensed up, whimpering. “Easy, little girl. We are here. Relax. Nothing is going to hurt you.” He murmured, kissing up and down my back, making me moan, when he bit into my shoulder. Before I even knew it, he had pushed one finger in and I was overwhelmed with the sudden fullness. “Fuck.” I breathed out, arching my back instinctively.

“Good?” He asked, lips still pressed against my skin.

“Yes… More please, Commander.” I whined, desperate to feel more.

He was going slower this time, pumping his finger in and out and when we reached a certain point, I knew why. A second finger putting slight pressure against my hole. “Breath, meleth. You are doing so good.” Taking his advice, I filled my lungs with air. “Hold your breath.” He ordered. “I am going to push, when you breath out, okey? When you are ready just do it.” I nodded, holding my breath a few second, before relaxing every muscle in my body and letting the air go. I could feel the next push to be wider, stretching me to a point that was just sharp for me to tap out, but then it was over. His two fingers sitting snugly inside of me and I couldn’t help but moan at the feeling.

Haldir was biting my neck in a split second to distract me from any pain, pressing me closer to Legolas, while smothering me with kisses and praises. “You did so good, nin galad. So, so good for us. I am proud of you.” Suddenly his fingers were moving once again, slowly fucking in and out of me.

“Yes… yes.” I mewled, arching into his movements, pressing my back against his chest. “Don’t stop, Commander. It feels so good.” He groaned at my words, capturing my lips with his, while he guided another finger to my hole. This time I was quicker to relax, making it easier for him to fill me up even more. Again, it shortly felt like it was too much, making me wince in pain. Both men stopped what they were doing, searching fear in my body language or my eyes, but there was none. Just pure lust and desire that were washing through my body.

I relaxed once more, allowing Haldir to move his fingers, stretching me and making me ready for his cock. Legolas tried his best to keep his face straight, but I could feel that the pressure Haldirs finger produced and the strokes he could feel through my wall made it hard for him to concentrate on anything else.

“This feels even better than I imagined.” Legolas admission lingered on the edge of breathless, words nearly slurred. “Feels like heaven, bereth nin.” Him calling me his wife for the first time, made me rear up, a desperate yell on my lips. I nearly missed the possessive grin that formed on his lips. “Wife? That word is what makes you so needy? I thought us calling you a greedy little slut, made for only us to use and filled with our cum is what usually gets you going.” I whimpered even more, closing my eyes and falling back onto Haldirs chest, who just chuckled, keeping his act up on preparing my other hole for his cock.

“I think it still does, gwanur.” He growled. Legolas voice as smug as his, when he answered: “Oh I feel the same. So not only do you want to be a cock hungry slut, but a cock desperate wife? Is it that? Us possessing you not only by law but by the way we treat you? Use you to our pleasure only?”

“Yes!” I mewled, clinging onto his shoulders for dear life. “I want you to own me. Mark me. I want to be used by you and nobody else.”

“That’s right, bereth.” Legolas kept on talking sinful words into my ear. “There will be only us who are fucking you. No man will ever be good enough to have you. Because there simply is no man capable of giving you what you need. Only your prince and your commander.”

“Oh god!” I cried out, my limps starting to shake with anticipation. “Please. I cant… Please take me. I need you to take me!”

“Hmmm you are begging so beautiful.” Legolas hummed, looking above me at an equally smug Haldir. “I think she deserves some relieve, doesn’t she mellon?”

“That she does.” I heard Haldir groan behind me, slowly pulling his fingers out of me and pressing the tip of his cock against my entrance. When I gave him the green light, he carefully pushed in and the unknown feeling had me seeing stars in seconds. Both of the men held still, letting me catch a breath and get used to the feeling of being fully stuffed. They waited until I gave my okey, setting a slow and sensual pace that soon turned into hot torture.

I didn’t know how they managed to hold and fuck me, but I wasn’t able to spent a thought on it anyways. My mind was way too fogged up with the tingly feeling that started to spread from my center towards every string in my body. I closed my eyes, my head lulling back onto Haldirs shoulders, nails gripping and scratching Legolas shoulders. “Oh god, please. This feels so good.” I moaned, my voice slurred and shaky. The only thing I could focus on was the searing warmth of their chests caging me in, the sting of Legolas fingers digging into my thighs, and Haldirs bruising grip on my hips.

Time seemed to still as everything but this, everything but being filled to the brim, ceased to exist. One of Haldirs hands sneaking around my body, settling between my legs and on the bundle of nerves. Slowly he started to circle it, tugging a string of curses out of me, when the heat in my body started to rise even further.

I was tumbling closer to the edge, as my cries were reduced to nothing more than their names. They didn’t seem to mind, however, every cry that left my lips spurred them on. “We got you.” Haldir promised, pressing me impossibly closer to his chest. Legolas hips moved faster, sending water sloshing around us, matching the speed of Haldirs fingers on my clit. He pushed me higher and higher, not caring about anything else than my own pleasure. I could see it in his eyes. They were dark and blown with lust, trained on my face, taking in every twitch of my expression, feeding his arrogance with it.

And then it happened. I barreled over the edge, vision turning black at the edges and lips parting. Legolas mouth met mine, swallowing my cries of pleasure, noises he knew would alarm everyone close by. Haldir had his lips on my neck, sucking dark marks onto my skin, soothing the stinging pain with his soft tongue. Their actions drew a gasp from my lips, the warmth of my orgasm searing through me from within as I clenched around both of their cocks. That had Legolas nipping at my bottom lip in a warning, though a lazy grin betrayed him. “Watch it, nin iell.” He teased. “You don’t want to end it that quickly do you?”

“No!” I yelped, tugging Haldirs hand away from my center as I could feel the overstimulation turning unbearable. “Good girl.” He growled behind me. “Because you take what we give you, like the good little slut you are, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Commander!” I cried out. “I will take whatever you give me.”

At my words Legolas growled deeply, the grasp on my thighs turning painful, as he tried his best to keep him from coming right then and there. “I will never get over the feeling of your tight little pussy gripping my cock so hard. Because you are doing it so good, like a forsaken vixen.” Grabbing my throat, he pulled me in for a harsh kiss, interrupting the things I wanted to say.

“Yes, nin ithil?” He asked, speeding up his tempo, riling me further into Haldir.

“I forgot.” I mumbled, fingers grabbing anything they could feel. He laughed out at my words, letting go of my throat. “Already forgetting yourself? And we haven’t even been going that long.”

“I don’t care.” I whined. Relishing in the fire in my core. “I want more. Please, give me more.”

“Of course, meleth. Everything you want.” He answered, now thrusting as deep into me as he could. I let myself completely go. Not spending one thought on anything else than being fucked. “Kiss your Commander!” Legolas ordered, and as quick as I could, I turned my head. Switching my arms from Legolas shoulders to Haldirs neck, I let myself fall into the harsh kiss of my first husband. He gripped my neck, cutting off the air from filling my lungs and I knew that he was close to coming, his actions set on tipping me over the edge one last time.

I relished in the feeling of how they filled me up to the brim.

How Legolas stretched me with every move, hitting my sweet spot over and over again.

How Haldir forced himself against the rhythm of Legolas, massaging me as well.

The lush sounds they drew from me filled the room, mixing with the water splashing around us. I was a goner. Theirs, the moment Legolas decided to kiss me. That little loss of self-control he had, leading to this incredible constellation. I tapped Haldirs hand, to signal him I needed air. Desperately I sucked a breath down my throat, the sudden allowance of blood to my head, making my vision spin around. “I love you. Both of you!” I cried out, my body shaking between them and I wondered how I was still upright.

And all of that possession they had over me, fueled the heat in my core to the point I wasn’t even sure if I wasn’t already burning alive. “Promise me to never leave me.” I whimpered, clenching and shivering around their cocks. “Never, nin galad. We are never going to leave you. You are our bereth and we will give you the world. By Valar, we would kill for you, if it meant you will stay safe.” Haldir growled, gripping my hair, and turning my head once more to kiss him.

I could feel Legolas bending down to suck on my breasts, a hand I couldn’t identify sneaking between my legs again, pinching my sensitive pearl softly between two fingers. I arched my back against Haldirs chest, clasping onto Legolas arms. The knot in my core now under so much tension, that he threatened to snap any moment. Of course, they knew. They always did. Holding me by my neck with a bruising grip, Haldir stopped the kiss, forcing me to look at the other man, growling in my ear: “Cum. Now!”

And I did. Screaming out in pure bliss, I shuddered in their arms. My walls rhythmically flickering around their cocks. I didn’t know if my eyes were open or not, because my vision just went black, causing me to slump against a hard chest. The last thing I felt was hot seed shooting up my holes.

The next thing I saw, was the ceiling and the bathroom faucets being painted in soft yellow lights from the torches on the wall. Slowly my senses came back to me and I could feel Haldir clean me up softly. Concentrating on the feeling between my legs, I noticed, that Legolas kneeled beside me, holding a glass of water. “Hello there, meleth.” He softly said, helping me sit up. Handing me the glass of water he watched me closely, ready to catch me again.

“You blacked out for a few moments. We cleaned you roughly and got you some water.” He filled me in, taking the empty glass from my hands, steadying my frame, when I tried to get up. But once he saw how I tried to get towards the bedroom on wobbly feet, he just picked me up, carrying me through the door and setting me down on the bed. Soon both of my husbands joined me under the sheets, securely wrapping me up between them.