#feel free to turn any into threads!

[vampyredefender-a]

Meme Day

apologies and forgiveness starters flirting with texts darker vibes the batman starters botanical prompts romantic moments

Lexi Jasper Melissa Caroline

[fellhellion]

sorry i need to expel the demon that is comicsverse thoughts from my head w a weirdly structured ramble ive been trying to articulate fdsjkfhkjds

-> miguel is initially alienated from his body post transformation - not just due to the nonconsensual nature of being spidered - but because he views the transformation as alienating him from a claim to humanity

-> however, the identity of spiderman and the ideals that represents seems to be in big part the means by which miguel reconciles himself to the nature of his physical body. not only do his abilities become naturalised to his understanding of himself as Miguel (rather than being thought of as alien) but they enable spiderman to be that force for good and change that miguel so desperately wants to see in himself

-> but miguel simultaneously depersonalises himself from his spiderman identity. he thinks of it as the better half of himself, as something almost ephemeral, that he doesn't quite have a claim to or is able to reconcile completely to Miguel The Human Being and all his associated baggage

-> and that's an interesting internal conflict to have when he simultaneously can never escape the lived reality of his own body and where it diverges from those around him, even as that lived reality eventually becomes something he can reconcile himself to far more easily

-> and what overhangs across this entire discussion is context of (and thus how Miguel would be influenced by) Nueva York's hypercapitalist society and thus the understanding and conception of your physical body in that lens. how much or little your body is owed by you yourself. the access you are told must be permitted to it by others/corporations. how the physical body is policed and politicised. the commodification of the body in the most literal sense via Vulture's cannibalism.

[yingren]

“You look like shit, man.”

HURT / COMFORT : STARTERS / accepting.

“ that’s bold coming from you. ” might be bold, but it’s not entirely untrue. there are certainly days when ren isn’t at his best - days like this, when everything he’s been avoiding finally catches up to drag him down. the weight on his shoulders is heavy: the persistent lack of sleep, the looming threat of an inevitable headache, the ever-present shadow of the mara festering within him. though he’s been doing better recently, or so he likes to believe, there are still challenges to this slower, unfamiliar rhythm that he continues to wrestle with even now.

irony clings to him every time he’s near the archivist, carving that filthy hollow within him even deeper, a grave he’s unwittingly shaped over the countless years spent in pursuit. the hunter locks eyes with his prey, fleetingly wonders what flesh might taste like between wolfish canines, then shakes the thought loose as if banishing an unwelcome whisper, continuing as though nothing ever happened. over & over again, ren adjusts to this cursed truce he has sworn to uphold. if there is one unyielding truth about him, it is this: ren will honor his word, no matter the recipient or the reason, unflinching even when the stakes run impossibly high. dan heng is safe. not out of affection, but sheer obligation.

predator lies quiet, restrained in the aftermath of past conflicts, sparing its prey. for now.

any other man might wrestle with regret or lingering thoughts about his past choices, especially when faced with someone tied to a shared history as bitter and fractured as theirs. but not ren. the memories that surface are not a wistful montage of lost camaraderie or futile attempts to mend what was broken. instead, they are a relentless bloodbath, a carnage where every body is his own and every spear piercing him is one of his own making - wielded by the reincarnation of the very man to whom it was once dedicated. a grotesque, abhorrent cycle of disgrace and ruin.

ren harbors no grand delusions about his own standing. this isn't about knocking him down a peg, the hunter does not sit atop some imagined throne of superiority, though it might occasionally seem that way. when the mara takes hold, and it strikes hardest when dan heng is the spark, the dynamic shifts. a flicker of irritation crosses his crimson eyes as ren exhales slowly, the weight of the moment palpable. the scales have tipped dramatically since that fateful day, since his relentless pursuit ground to a halt, since dan heng seized the upper hand in every conceivable way. ren is a cursed man, perpetually adding to his own affliction.

“ what do you want ? you come to bother me as if it is a new hobby of yours. unbelievable. surely you are more creative than that. ”

[huntershowl-moving]

@putrescencx said:

"I need you to mind your own self and back away."

HELLHOUND IS A REMARKABLE CREATURE at full, unrestrained power. they are also a remarkably destructive creature. their name hasn't spread in whispers throughout japan for nothing, after all — the polar opposite of stain, she is a villain without reason, a beast torn loose from hell to flood the streets with senseless fear.

tonight's kill was, as they always are, incredibly brutal. all teeth and mechanical hands working into flesh like claws, the animal scream of rage and anguish that lets civilians know it's time to lock their doors, the sheer body horror of it all. she paints the alleyway red with him, this civilian victim far from home.��

the moments directly after the kill are always the most dangerous. still consumed by the monster and its blind rage, hellhound's heightened senses attune to living presences around them and kill indiscriminately until there's no one left, as anything that breathes registers instantly as a threat. this is why she plans so meticulously to avoid that outcome. each kill is performed in an isolated location, often the result of persephone fabricating some kind of lure to get the target away from other people. no bystanders, no crossfire.

it goes against her wanton-bloodshed reputation, this particular detail, but no one has investigated closely enough to figure it out anyway. heroes have no interest in this; they want to kill the villain and save the people. she's counting on that.

there wasn't supposed to be another person here tonight. the reaction to his presence is instant: bloodsoaked face snaps to the side and locks eyes with him, the spidery body launches almost inhumanly fast toward the silhouette at the end of the alley with claws out and teeth bared — but hellhound is a remarkable creature, all instinct. they know an apex predator when they see one. there is an air about him that resonates deep in their bones, fox approached by wolf. his body is so frail, but something about his face ( or rather, the red haze where a face should be ) tells her it doesn't matter.

so they freeze. stock-still, inches away from the intruder's faceless face, heaving breaths through gritted teeth and a clawed mechanical hand still poised to strike.

[babydxhl]

❝ i'll be right here when you wake up. ❞ (doctor barton, perhaps? though feel free to go wherever you'd like with this OFC).

feeling safe prompts | still accepting.

She had been so close. The smell of burning formica countertops and polyester curtains. The smoke rising up into that black soundstage void, as if the building itself had opened up to Gotham's starless night sky, as if there might be something staring back down at her, some silent audience impossible to comprehend. The old studio audience grandstands had crackled and shrieked as the heat hit them.

It had never been fire before.

Something about it had seemed clean. All of them — herself and her faux-mother and her faux-father and her faux-siblings, grown into a far less stagnant adulthood — just sitting down to dinner, closing their eyes, slipping into sleep. Flames creeping in. Like it was all an accident. I didn't mean to, indeed.

"You my babysitter now?" she asked, and glanced over at him. The weight of exhaustion had sunk into her, deep into the marrow of her bones. Miriam had stepped in when the Bat had finally shown up, and Mary had woken up in the backseat with the stink of smoke in her hair, a rasp in her throat and a searing burn along the inside of her arm where the tablecloth had caught.

The fingers of one hand played with the bandage now; she looked again at the sedative and the little cup of water. "I don't—" She stopped, shut her eyes for a moment, then opened them, looked at Barton again. "I can just go home. You just let me call someone, and I'll go home. You don't have to sit here and keep watch."

[cosmicallybound]

         the   goddess   of   creation     &&     rebirth,   the   first   darkness     &&     first   star.    for such   an   elegant,   ethereal   monstrosity,   she was   unaccustomed   to   mortal   emotion,   no   matter   how   much   time   was   spent   within   mortal   flesh.   deceptively   delicate   hands   caressed   silken   skin   before   they   cupped   ahri's   face,   a   thumb   absentmindedly   brushing   aside   a   stray   strand   of   hair.   there   was   a   certain   reverence   to   the   action,   a   foreign   gentleness   to   it. 

         brilliant   amber,   which   so   often   reflected   the   celestial   sky   above,   reflected   far   too   much   of   the   goddess's   inner   turmoil.   though   both   were   non-humans   merely   playing   a   part,   their   similarities   far   outweighed   any   differences...   the   celestial   being   was   not   of   the   world,   even   now,   the   ichor   that   pulsed   within   ached   to   return   to   the   stars.   to   hear   such   sweet   words,   a   balm   for   a   weary   soul,   she   could   not   deny��  the   cracks   that   it   caused   to   the   foundation   of   her   entire being.   she   was   not   of   this   world.   would   need   to   return   to   the   celestial   palace   sooner   rather   than   later,   but   to   do   so,   to   leave   behind   such   a   treasure,   broke   her   in   an   unimaginable   way.   but   to   ask   the   she    —    fox    to   abandon   her   home   was   unfathomable,   for   just   the   thought   of   it   alone   pained   the   goddess   more   than   the   alternative.

@vulpesse “I can’t imagine my life without you.”

         ❝     oh,   but   my   darling,   you   must.   though   i   cannot   always   be   with   you   physically,   know   that   you   are   forever   loved     &&     adored.   i   shall   be   forever   watching,   forever  proud   of   you,   dear   heart...   ❞

accidental love confessions || accepting

[crownslip]

[ patch ] sender carefully patches one of receiver's wounds for carl because we need to take care of our apocalypse son

the  younger  grimes'  forearm  burned  as  his  wound  was  cleaned  of  debris  and  covered.  tiny  sharp  splinters  of  glass  had  found  themselves  a  home  within  the  fresh  gash.  all  because  carl  hadn't  been  paying  enough  attention  to  his  surroundings  as  they  searched  a  house.  stupid.

teeth  clenched,  holding  back  the  need  to  groan  at  how  much  it  stung.  there  was  no  telling  if  they'd  gotten  all  the  glass  out.  the  pieces  had  been  so  small  and  hard  to  see.  but  they  did  the  best  with  what  they  had.  ❛  thanks,  ❜  he  nodded.  carl  clenched  and  unclenched  his  fist  on  his  injured  arm,   happy  that  it  had  merely  been  superficial.  ❛  it's  my  bad.  i  wasn't  paying  enough  attention.  i  didn't  see  it.  ❜

[tacticalvalor]

«────── « ASK » ──────»

@arcanumsolitude SAID:

"come on, i’ll bandage you up." courier six -> mars

SPONTANEOUS INTERACTION (OR A POTENTIAL PROMPT; I CAN'T SEARCH ON MOBILE ^^;)

There was a deep wound both within the Legionnaire's body and her pride. The sense that she be stranded, unable to help herself to her feet, only to be found by the Courier. The one who had earned the privilege of whispers amongst the ranks. The privilege—or perhaps curse—of Vulpes and Caesar's eyes upon them.

That sense of shame only deepened at the realization of her entire life's work being put at risk with the tending of her wounds. The only one who had known Mars was a woman was the spymaster himself.

He had found out, humorously, through similar circumstances. An all too revealing wound that, even when within the privacy of the abandoned bathroom, could not escape the cold gaze of Caesar's right hand.

Still, it was not like a defense could be made. Breaths grew raspy with each attempt to reach the abandoned weapon just beside her. Light eyes narrowed, brows knitting closely together as the mask upon her nose began to fall. Her questions could wait, she supposed.

"... Very well. If you—" a pained noise. The clenching of her jaw. "—If you truly must."

[povlnfour]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ HOW DO YOU TURN THIS THING OFF? — LN4

pairing: lando norris x girlfriend!reader

summary: fans love when you make appearances in landos streams. it’s usually because he doesn’t know where something is, and the internet goes crazy over their favorite certified himbo. on one stream, you get a taste of your own medicine when lando tasks you with turning the live feed off, and fans get a little more of an insight into your relationship

genre: established relationship, humour

ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just tweeted

ੈ✩‧₊˚ user2 just made a thread

ੈ✩‧₊˚ landonorris just posted a photo

liked by yourusername and 406,409 others

landonorris dinner date then stream, be there or be square, 6pm

view all comments

maxfewtrell did she have to show you how to use a knife and fork too?

yourusername i definitely had to show him how to fill my wine glass up when it was empty

user PUT Y/N ON THE STREAM WE WANT MORE Y/N

user if he comes on in a dress shirt i’m Dead

user oh they’ve all definitely seen the thread😭😭

ੈ✩‧₊˚ user just posted a thread

ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just posted a photo

liked by landonorris and 108,654 others

yourusername this time it was my own stupidity that let the secret out. and i didn’t have to show him how to propose! he did it all on his own accord!

view all comments

user YOU’RE SUCH AN ICON

user only lando and y/n could accidentally expose their own engagement

user THE CAPTION😭😭 she really has kept him alive all these years huh

user ‘i wouldn’t want to think of a life without you anyway’ now if that’s not meant to be than what is

landonorris i love you

landonorris really quick whilst we’re at it,,, where tf do we keep the spare phone chargers?

yourusername oh.. oh baby. i’ll be home in 5

————

a/n: hELLO! so the snippet from this got over 200 notes and i couldn’t wait to post it because you all loved it so much!

for the rest of my wips, check out the wip game linked in my pinned post!!

all of your feedback over the last few days has made me so happy sjdjsjs, any thoughts please feel free to send i am having so much fun creating for you guys. i seriously appreciate every like comment ask and follow!! anon emojis are now listed in my bio so if you wanna chat a bunch, have a look at what’s free !

- giselle

taglist (found here): @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicora @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @minkyungseokie @paolexsstuff @celestialpato @champagnelovers101 @loxbbg @hobiismyhopeu @tsukishitm-a @moonypixel @champagneproblems17 @ironmaiden1313 @lqvesoph @sunflower-golden-vol6 @six-call @skatingiswalkingincursive @peqch-pie @m0cha-bunny @woozarts @he6rtshaker @iluvvmeeee @goldenalbon @izzy-marvel @lucyysthings @lichterfee @tallrock35 @treehouse-house @iloveyou3000morgan

[arcanefeelings]

SUCKER ! | kamo choso

words: 1k

description & tw: virgin!choso - you give him head for the first time (oral - m!receiving), overstimulation(?), cum eating

notes: he's just so babygirl I can't help myself

masterlist

okay but imagine giving virgin!choso head for the very first time.

he's all flustered and blushing, pupils dark and dilated, gaze fixed on your face as you sink to your knees at his feet. your fingers are hooked into his belt loops as you go down, pulling him down to sit on the sofa behind him as soon as the back of his knees hit the cushion.

a soft huff of air leaves his bitten, swollen lips, when he sits with a small bounce. soft breaths leave his parted lips as your hands move to the hem of his shirt, fingers pushing one corner of the fabric up, up, up, till it's caught between his lips. his torso is exposed for you to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses all over, hands moving back to his pants, nimble fingers undoing his button, then the zipper, as you tap his hips to lift them while you tug them down his thighs.

you're kneeling between his legs, hands caressing his soft hips, lips tracing his v-line, till you move down, down, down. you press your parted lips over the tent in his boxers, kissing in gentle teases and drawing soft whimpers from his lips. choso's hands grip the cushion of the sofa, knuckles turning white while he screws his eyes shut for a moment.

when they open again, theres a plea written in them, something so desperate and needy you can't help but indulge him.

your hands tug his boxers down, freeing his swollen, red cock. there was no way you could have really known before, but he was big. his tip was flushed, red from your teasing and wet with precum, dribbling from his slit. his cock was girthy, and long. god, was his cock long.

you don't realise how you look right now, but choso does. he sees the way your pupils dilate to match his when his cock slaps against his abdomen as you tug his boxers down. he sees the way you nearly salivate at the sight of it, at the sight of him.

and it's all he can do not to whimper when you finally wrap a hand around him, fingers gently squeezing at the base of his cock, wrist turning and tugging experimentally. his teeth clench against his shirt, his hands tightening on the couch cushion.

his gaze is fixed on your hand and your gaze is fixed on his face.

you're taking in every reaction you can, every change in his expression, to see what makes him tick. what makes his dick twitch in your grip? what makes his hips buck harder into your hand? what makes him leak even more? because, as you learn soon, choso is very leaky. he's so aroused by the sight and the feel of you, that his tip is constantly glistening with precum.

that's when you tug slowly, moving your hand up, along with the twisting motions from earlier. you repeat the movement. once. twice. his eyes shut again, tight. its like he's denying himself from making any sounds, his teeth sinking deeper into his shirt. and that's when you change it up again.

you bring your grip higher along his cock again, thumb swiping over his slit and then working your hand back down. and he whimpers.

it's soft, but oh so sweet. and oh, the things you'd do to hear them again.

so you try again, this time, with yet another tactic. your free hand rests on his pelvis, thumb circling over the bone. and then you lean closer, eyes locked on his face through your lashes as your tongue darts out, licking the fresh pre from his slit, and his eyes snap open, a saccharine-sweet moan leaving his lips. the hem of his shirt falls from his lips and you miss the sight of his bare torso for a moment.

"cho," you whisper, lashes fluttering up at him, and he nearly comes right there, "you can hold my hair." your hand on his pelvis moves to one of his hands on the couch, gently prying his fingers from the cushion and guiding them to your hair. they thread through the locks, gripping them tight as he groans softly.

"you look so pretty like this," you whisper, hand going back to his hip, thumb once again tracing circles. you hear the way his breath hitches, see the way his eyes widen fractionally.

and then your lips wrap around him, suckling the mushroom tip, and his head falls back with a whine, hips bucking into your mouth as he cums down your throat. whispered apologies leave his lips, a few drops of hot cum seeping past yours as he holds you in place by your hair, whimpering as he rides out his orgasm.

"'m sorry - hah - baby," he chokes out, "nngh - sorry-"

but you moan, swallowing every drop you can, gagging around his length as your eyes roll back, watery and hazy, but trying to focus on his. his cock twitches at the sight, the wet, clumped lashes sending another rush of blood straight to his cock as he spurts the last of his cum down your throat, panting.

he whimpers under his breath as he collects himself, apologetic and embarrassed for cumming so soon, and you can't help the way you find it all so utterly cute.

because, truth be told, you had been surprised. but you were not put off, by it, quite the opposite. it was pretty attractive. not to mention, he came a lot - it was a rather hefty ego boost.

he gently loosens his grip on your hair, muttering softly, and while he may be done, but you aren't. you'd never given anyone head before, but you were sure that him cumming in your mouth the second you took him in wasn't the 'full experience'. and you were oh so willing to help him get that - a little too willing, in fact.

so you pull away from his cock with a string of saliva mixed cum attaching your lower lip from his tip, licking your lips and then cleaning him up, ignoring his whines of surprise and overstimulation when you move from his trimmed base to his ruddy tip.

only to wrap your lips around him again while he grips your hair tighter, at war with himself about whether he should make you stop, or let you go ahead.

but he was powerless under your mouth - this time you were determined to suck him off properly and then drink his cum. or keep trying till he let you.

[siriuslylantsov]

sobriquet

pairing: spencer reid x reader

description: spencer reacts to you calling him a nickname for the first time.

tags: fluff fluff and more fluff, established relationship, fem!reader, kissing and all around domesticity, bit cheesy, little teasing, spencer gets momentarily overwhelmed with how much he feels but i dont get into the nitty gritty.

a/n: sobriquet is the french word for nickname. anywho i just need spencer reid to call me angel. hope you like this! happy reading :)

wc: 1.3k

◦ /ˈsəʊbrɪkeɪ/ ◦

the bright noon sun filters through the sheer curtains as you wake up, groggily pulling yourself into a sitting position. you rub at the sleep in your eyes with a low grumble. the space beside you is vacant, you run a hand over the spencer shaped chasm indented into the mattress. it's gone cold so you assume he's been up for a while, having let you sleep in, probably perched on the couch, book in hand.

you drag yourself into the living room of spencer's apartment, despite the daylight scattered across the space, it still feels cosy, relentlessly cosy. which is probably why you spend so much time here, like you are now. a rare case-free weekend off presented itself to the team, so the two of you decided on spending a lazy 2 days together.  

you bend at the waist and wrap your arms around spencer's shoulders when you find him on the couch. he lets out a slightly distracted hum, pressing his lips to your forearm in a kiss, though it's more open mouthed as you catch him in the middle of reading a passage. you squeeze him once and walk to the kitchen. he follows you, needing a refill to his coffee.

both of you work in silence, spencer engrossed in the pages in front of him as the moka pot heats up on the stove while you grab the carton of milk from the fridge. when you open the cabinet for the box of cereal that resides there, you don't find it. strange. you open the one beside it in hopes that you'd find it there, you don't.

“baby, where's the cereal?” you ask spencer, peering behind boxes and packets for a glimpse of the tell-tale red of the kelloggs logo.

his eyes dart up from his book, finally tearing away from the words. did you just call him baby?

you push up from your knees, turning to look at him expectantly, “spencer?”

his eyes are wide, eyebrows pinched up ever so slightly that a line forms in the middle, you want to smooth it out. he looks alarmed, so you cross over to him, taking the book out of his hands and setting it on the counter, turning off the heat to the stove at the same time.

“hey, are you okay?” your voice is low so as to not alarm him further, but still pressing to know what’s wrong.

apart from the alarm, his face is unreadable. “what did you just say?”

you graze a hand over his forearm, “are you okay?”

“no. before that.”

“um... where's the cereal? spencer, are you-”

“you called me baby,” he interjects. barely a whisper but you catch it.

oh. your lips part, trying to get a read on his face, you can't. “did i?” you respond meekly, playing dumb in case he didn't like it. the two of you haven't experimented with nicknames much, the relationship being fairly new and only used to addressing eachother by first or last names.

he nods, lips curling into a small smile. oh. “say it again?”

you want to protest but he's quick to stop you with a “please.”

“baby,” you chew your bottom lip nervously, searching for any recoil in his eyes, you find none. his smile only grows.

“again.”

“spence,” you whine, feeling embarrassed.

“please,” he repeats, eyes big and imploring.

you sigh, how do you possibly deny him? chagrin be damned.

“baby,” you whisper, almost cooing, as you raise a hand to cup his cheek.

teeth peek out of his mouth now, grinning wholeheartedly. his arms find solace around your waist as he pulls you in, tucking his head into your neck. you can feel his smile on your skin, and you giggle.

“i take it you like it then?” you murmur, threading your fingers into his hair the back of his head.

he presses a kiss to your neck. “of course i do, angel,” he responds, words trailing off tentatively.

angel. your brain runs circles around the way the word sounded coming from him, how good it sounded, angel. in a matter of seconds, he’d managed to turn the tables and you understand why he reacted how he did when you called him baby, you wouldn't mind him calling you angel again either.

you pull back to look at his face. he's a shy and sheepish thing when you take him in. your face isn't as unreadable as his was, cheeks flushed and eyes crinkled at the corners as you try to bite back a smile, so he calms easily. 

“that's new,” you remark, poking at his chest.

“yeah,” he says, pulling you closer as he leans against the counter. “you like it?”

“mhm,” you hum giddily, rising on your toes to kiss him. 

his lips move against yours gently as he kisses you back. his tongue prods at the seam of your lips, urging you to let him in. you nip it before pulling back.

“i've got morning breath,” you explain simply, alleviating his confusion.

he's indifferent when he leans back in, “does it look like i care?”

you give him a quick peck on the nose before exhaling a puff of hot air into his face, trying to drum up as much bad breath as you can. you laugh as his face scrunches up in mild disgust, nose wrinkled, and lips pulled into a pout. he's quick to recover though, head dipping to kiss you again. sighing into the kiss, you push his face from yours and hide under his chin. his arms move higher and wrap across your shoulders.

“in the hallway,” spencer says abruptly.

you hum into his chest in confusion, and he explains further, “the cereal is in a bag in the hallway. i finished the last of it earlier and went to go buy some more.”

“you went grocery shopping? just for cereal?” your voice is muffled against his shirt, but he can make out what you're saying.

“yeah, gotta make sure my angel is fed,” he murmurs into your hair that tickles his chin.

you groan a little at how corny he sounds but bury further into him regardless, clearly flustered. he huffs out a chuckle at your state.

“oh don't be so smug,” you grumble, lifting your head up to look at him. god was he pretty.

“angel,” he drags out, almost taunting, but inherently laced in affection. he can't help it, you are an angel personified to him, the name was only fitting. and it wasn't often that you were on the tail end of the teasing, so he's making sure to take advantage of whatever was making you all giddy as if you couldn't do the same thing to him tenfold. 

when he sees the glint in your eyes though, he knows you're about to. he braces himself internally as you hold his face with two soft hands, cradling him. he shifts slightly to kiss your palm, admittedly trying to avoid your gaze. 

“beautiful,” you start, and he's already done for, turning his head further into your hand. you're not having it, so you bring him back to you, firmer grip this time but fingers still as soft as before. “perfect,” you continue, words also firm, “angel boy.” 

you seem to have rendered him silent, an easy thing for you to do because it's you, chipping away at any and all words he had stored simply because of what you called him. it's unbelievable that a mere nickname could reduce him to this–he’ll be sure to try it on you later. but for now, he just hugs you again, dropping his head back into your neck and arms around your waist. yours loop around his neck, rooting his head where it is. 

your fingers press into his scalp, massaging lightly. you continue murmuring little things into the silence, turning your head so he hears you better. angel, baby, genius boy, pumpkin, sweet cheeks, shnookums. 

his head lifts up, bewildered, “shnookums?”

“hey! i don't know what you're into,” you lean back in surrender, hoping to bring some humour into this because frankly, he was overwhelmed, and you knew.

he lets out a low chuckle, pressing his forehead to yours and you melt sleepily against him.

“i love you,” you whisper.

“i love you too, angel girl.” 

m.list | reblogs and replies are appreciated!

[baby-yongbok]

One Last Time

Ex-husband!Bang Chan x afab!Reader

✦ Genre: Soon to be exes to lovers [18+ MDNI] ✦ Summary: Petty claims of possession lead to one last night of pleasure.

✦ CW: Choking/ light breath play, pussy spanking [for a second], Unprotected sex [wrap it up party people], Size Kink [for a second], Oral (f rec.), Chan is... aggressive(??), Chan is referred to as Chris, He calls you a bitch once. only once. ✦A/N: Bang Chan made me do it. There's barely any plot in sight. I wrote this in 4 hrs in the middle of the night. Enjoy! + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡

✧ Masterlist ✧

It’s funny how things change. Day turns to night, hot to cold and love to pure seething hatred. 

Okay, maybe that’s a bit dramatic but you swear that that’s all you can feel swarming in your chest as you sit across from your soon to be ex-husband. 

He made a show of things at the settlement meeting this afternoon. He pushed back on every negotiation you made which has led you to where you are now. Each of you on your side of the bed with a pile of stuff littering the Egyptian cotton sheets that he just has to take with him. 

“There. Are you happy now?” You throw the last item on top of his pile and Chris stares down at the item with that damned smirk that you used to love. “Almost.”

He stands from the mattress, dark eyes on something behind you. He grabs it before you can turn. “I bought you this purse.”

The muffled thud of his hard bottom shoes against the carpet is all that you hear before he turns the black designer bag upside down. The contents clatter against his shoes, items rolling in different directions as you watch with a clenched jaw. 

He’s circling back to his side of the bed as you call upon the might of the gods to keep yourself calm. After being married for five years Chris has learned each and every one of your buttons and how hard he needs to press them just to tick you off. 

You’ve decided not to give him the satisfaction of making a scene. That’ll only feed his ego. Besides, he has buttons of his own, some that you installed yourself.

“Now I’m happy.” He drops the bag into his pile, smiling before you like he’d just gotten away with a million bucks. “Yeah?” 

Two can play that game. “I bought you that suit.” The smirk on blushed lips transfers to your painted ones as you stare over at him with arms crossed over your chest. 

“I’d like it back.” With an innocent bat of your lashes Chris smiles. It’s gone just as fast as it came and it doesn’t reach his eyes. He's pissed. 

“You’re fucking serious?” You hold your hand out to him. “Dead serious.”

Dark eyes are staring into darker ones as he holds your gaze. You’ve gotten used to him challenging you. You’ve gotten used to him being a petty asshole and you’ve learned how to play him at his own game. 

You watch as he pops the button of his suit jacket. Tongue in cheek while his fingers work to free him of the fabric. His eyes stay on yours as he peels the smoky threads from his shoulders. He shimmy’s it down thick arms, pulling at the cuffs until he’s free of it. He’s left in a skimpy t-shirt before you and you take the liberty of letting your eyes wander. 

“Want the pants too?” Chris throws the jacket over into your pile before his hands start to fiddle with the metal of his buckle. “Keep ‘em. They’re the nicest thing you own now.” 

He mumbles something incoherent under his breath, his hand comes up to rake through his hair as his eyes wander the space you used to share. His gaze stops at your vanity, busy eyes study your open jewelry box then look back to you. 

“I gave you those earrings.” He stalks towards the table, snatching the gold studs off of the surface and slipping them into his pocket. “And..” 

The muffled thud of his shoes is all you can hear over the thick tension pulsing around you. It’s all that you can hear over your own enraged heartbeat. “This necklace.” The clasp is snapped from around your neck before you can breathe a protest. You gasp at the sudden pressure of your chain being ripped from you. 

“What the fuck.” That smirk is stolen  back when he slips the jewelry into his pocket. He stands in front of you, barely an inch between you as your chests rise and fall in unison. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”

“Me?” He fakes a pout, blinking over at you. “I didn’t do anything” 

“Whatever, you got your stuff, get out.” You’re hissing at him, heart racing and blood bubbling with the annoyance you’ve been harboring for the length of this insufferable process. “I’m done with you.”

“Not so fast.” he says slowly, his hands finding your waist before you can step around him. You attempt to shrug off his grip and fail. “I bought you that too.” 

His eyes trail from your eyes to your lips. His tongue darts out to lick over his own as he stares. “That lipstick.” His eyes find yours again.

“Fuck off, Chris.” There’s a bite to your tone that makes him smile. He’s always loved a challenge. 

“I bought it.” He pulls you into him by your waist. Your body is flush with his and one of his hands quickly abandon the plush flesh to wrap around your neck. “ I wan’ it back. I think that’s fair.”

It’s dark on dark as he leans in, eyes searching each others frantically as Chris closes the gap and kisses you gently. It barely makes a sound, it’s feather light and quick. 

“You want it back?” You whisper against his lips and he nods. “Then I want the pants.” 

That fucking smirk pulls at his red stained lips and his mouth is on yours in an instant. It’s hot and messy, drowning out the previous softness. You grab at his arms, clawing down the flesh while his fingers dig into your hips. 

He licks into your mouth with a desperate groan as you turn your heads left and right, his tongue explores your mouth as he takes in the taste of you one last time. Your arms wrap around his neck as one of his hands grab at the swell of your ass.

 “Fuck.” He groans against you, stealing another kiss before you catch his bottom lip between your teeth. “Up.” With a firm smack on your ass you jump up and his hands find purchase on the curve of your bottom over your dress. 

You fall into a mess of tugging and moaning. The tension you once felt in your chest melts into pleasure as his hands wander your bareskin. He drops you onto the mattress, pushing the sorted piles out of the way and hovering over you in your ripped dress as you lay sprawled out on the sheets before him. 

“Gonna miss this.” Chris’ mouth is stained cherry red with your lipstick, it’s smeared over your cheeks and it compliments the bruises that he’s sucking into your skin. You bunch his shirt up his back, scratching along the way and leaving your own marks as you please. 

“Shut up, eat my pussy.” You pull him back with a fist full of his hair, he hisses a moan through clenched teeth as his own hand finds it’s way around your throat again. He squeezes this time. It’s just enough to have your eyes flutter shut, just enough to get you right where he wants you. 

“Can’t you be my good girl for one more night? Can’t you stop being a bitch for just a second, baby?” Chris leans down with a tighter squeeze. Your fingers wrap around his wrist, your nails digging into the flesh. “Did you already forget who the fuck I am?”

He loosens his grip giving you the satisfaction of that blissful rush before squeezing again. “Do you see how small you are?” He whispers, placing a kiss by your ear. “Do you feel how strong I am, baby? Don’t you know how this goes?”

A moan is all he gets as he pulls back to admire you. Your pretty mouth is parted with a silent moan as your thighs press together in a desperate attempt at cumming. “I should make you suck my cock.” His knee wedges between your legs and presses hard against your core. 

“I should fuck this pretty throat. I should get you back for being such a fucking brat through all of this.” The hand that was around his wrist scratches up his arm as he lets up again, letting the blood rush and giving you the dizzy feeling he knows you love. “I should -”

Your fingers wrap around his neck before he can finish his thought. Fierce eyes stare up into his as your other hand moves to unbutton his pants. “Just gimme what’s mine.”

Your hand slips into the waistband of his underwear as you pull him closer to you. “Wan’ my cock?” He moans at the soft feeling of your fingers wrapping around the tip. Eye’s fluttering shut as he attempts to take a breath against your grip.

 “‘S mine.” You lean up to his ear. “Isn’t it daddy?”

It was quick when he pinned you against the mattress. Both of your wrists were in his grip before he shifted them both to one hand to free his cock for you. “You’re a fucking tease. You’re so fucking predicatable, you know that?” He’s hissing as he fights with the fabric of his pants and your dress. 

“You want a reaction outta me, huh? Wanna rile me up, sweetheart?” With a shift of hands and a grunt he’s turning the two of you over. You follow him with a gasp, straddling his waist and sitting over his cock with your clothed cunt. “C’mon I’ll let you. Use me, get what you want.”

Your resolve sinks as his cock twitches against your core. Chris is lying beneath you looking like a sin personified and you feel compelled to indulge in his offer. He is still your husband after all. 

Your panties are pushed to the side in an instant. Chris’ wrists are pinned over his head while you grind your cunt over him. Sloppy sounds of you working over his leaking cock swirl in the hot air and Chris watches it all with drooping lids as you work against him. “Put it in, lemme watch it.”

You ignore him, slowing your grind to counter his request. “C’mon, baby, lemme feel you. I can make you feel so good. Let daddy fuck you, c’mon.” He watches you, head reeled back and moans dripping from your lips like drool as you  do as you please. 

“Fuckin’ tease.” He breaks free from your hold, hands wrapping around your waist and guiding the grind of your hips just as your clit catches on the head of his cock. “I asked nicely.” 

His cock catches at your entrance as he controls you. The push of him against your pussy has your mouth open in a silent scream as he bullies his cock into you. “You keep forgetting who I am, hm?” He sits up, landing a firm smack to your ass to match his brutal thrust as you settle in his lap.

“Chris, shit, just fuck me. Fuck me.” Your nails are in his back, drawing lines that could surely draw blood. He hisses at the pain, smiling with a bite of his tongue as he fucks up into you. 

His hips snap into yours, gradually picking up the pace until you’re falling apart against him. Chest to chest, you’re panting into each other. Littering the thick air with profanities as he splits you open on his dick. “Oh my fucking god, Chris. More. More more more, please. C’mon.”

“Take it.” He growls below you, allowing you to push him back against the mattress and ride his cock to your heart's content. “That’s it, take it. It’s yours, all yours.”

Your nails dig into his pecks, leaving marks on the flawless skin and you use him for leverage. The loud smack of skin against skin decorates the air accompanied by your moans.

 “Don’t hold back, baby. Enjoy that fucking ride.” He thrusts up into you, meeting you halfway. “Let loose, just like that.”.

Chris is rambling under you, mumbling under his breath and growling praises when he fucks deep into you. 

“Fuck me, fuck me harder. Wan’ it harder.” It’s dark on dark again. Hooded eyes stare into each other void of rage, the only priority is pleasure. You’re only here to take advantage. 

“Wan’ me harder?” He fucks into you, moaning at the squeeze you give. “Wan’ me deeper?”

With a lift of his hips Chris flips you over. “Be good for me, yeah? One last time, be a good fucking girl and lay on your back for me. Lemme eat this pretty pussy.” He rips your dress down your frame with a grunt. Your panties get the same treatment before he’s falling to his knees before you. 

“Gonna miss you on your knees.” You prop yourself up on your elbows, staring down at him behind a fucked out haze. “Lookin’ so pretty for me with a mouth full of my cunt.”

With a smirk Chris licks a wet stripe from your hole to your clit. He swirls his tongue around the bud, sucking it between red stained lips and flicking it. Your head drops back against the mattress with a loud moan. Your hands comb through and grab at his damp dark locks but he quickly repositions you to hold yourself open for him. 

“Watch me eat it.” He reaches up, brushing your chin with his fingertips. He lays a flat wet lick to your pussy, hooded eyes staring up into yours. “Eyes on me. Eyes on daddy.”

He spreads your cunt with his fingers, holding you open for him while he spits down onto your clit. He collects it all on his tongue, licking it over the nub before spitting it back. Sloppy slurps against a drooling pussy is all that fills the room. “Daddy, please, wanna cum on your cock.”

He pulls back with a pop, spitting back down onto your cunt. He watches it drip down to your hole, following the stream with his fingers to press it into you. 

“You wan’ me deep right?” His middle and pointer fuck you open as he coos. “Want me to spread this tiny cunt on my dick?” You’re moaning. Panting confirmations and whining pathetically into the air. 

“Then hold it.” He kisses your clit, sucking it in then releasing. “Don’t cum.”

“Please.” You moan a plea, unraveling little by little with each suck and flick of your clit. His fingers fuck you open, curling into your soft spot and pushing you further towards the edge that you’re trying to avoid. 

You could just cum. You could just take what he’s giving you instead of following the rules but it’s so good like this. He’s so good like this. You miss him giving you what you want.

“Chris, ‘m gonna cum for you. I can’t. Please jus’ gimme.” He blinks up at you with pussy drunk eyes as his kiss bitten lips move against you despite your begging. “Daddy, please. I wan’ your cock.”

"Don't cum for me yet" he speaks against your cunt before licking a wet kiss up to your clit. 

"I can't, Chris. I can't, I can't, I'm gonna cum." Your eyes are glued to the way he licks up and down your swollen pussy. Taunting you with the skill he's gained over the years. He's pushing your buttons again.  

"Daddy, daddy, daddy, please you have to let me. You’re gonna make me cum. Your mouth, your fucking mouth, please let me cum."

You're babbling, you know you are. You’re slipping through the cracks quickly and you can’t do a thing to stop it. There’s no going back and Chris knows it but he still smacks the inside of your thigh. Warning you to be good for him and let him build you up a bit more before you take his cock again.

"Don't." He kisses your clit. "Cum." He sucks the bud into his mouth and swirls his tongue over it with a moan. He's a madman if he thinks you could survive that. 

"Fuck, 'm cumming. I'm cumming, 'm sorry." You’re shaking, your nails dig into your thighs as you keep yourself open for him.  "Cumming, 'm cumming, I can't stop cumming, I can't stop cumming."

He moans into you as he laps up every drop of arousal that you're giving him. He commits your sweet taste to memory with one final swipe of his tongue before he’s kissing up your stomach. 

His lips trail up the valley of your breasts. He licks over the mound, sucking your nipple into his mouth and swirling it with a hum. Once he’s satisfied he moves to your shoulder, kissing and licking his way over to your collarbone then finally his lips are back on yours.

You’re gasping as you tremble through your orgasm, aftershocks wash over you as you taste yourself on his tongue. Chris smirks, whispering against your lips. "No one else will make you feel this good, baby. No one else will make you cum like this.”

The head of his cock slips through your dripping folds, catching against your clit before he’s pushing in. “This is mine. All mine." He sinks in to the hilt then slowly drags his cock back against your walls. 

“This is what I want.” He straightens up, looking down at your pretty face contorted in pleasure. 

“All of that other shit doesn’t matter.” He moans, holding your thighs back to get a perfect view of you.  ���I wanna watch it. Wanna see the way my pussy opens up for me. ‘S mine, isn’t it, baby? Tell me this shit is mine.”

“Yours, it’s yours. Fuck, ‘s fucking yours, please, you’re gonna make me cum.” Chris slows his strokes, grinding deep into you and dipping his hips to hit the soft spot that turns you into putty for him.

You’re drooling at the feeling. Tears threaten to fall from the corners of tired eyes as you watch the way he admires your cunt. The corner of his bottom lip is tugged and held firm between his teeth as he fights back his moans so that he can hear yours clearer.

“Shit, You’re gonna make me cum. Gonna make me fucking cum, make daddy cum.” The precise snap of his hips grows sloppy as the seconds pass. His once slow grind is now erratic. He’s purely seeking pleasure, sinking deeper into the haze with every drag. 

“Fuck, squeeze me. Yeah, just like that, that’s my girl. Pretty fucking girl on my cock.” Each thrust is met with a slap to your clit. You jolt at the contact, back arching off of the mattress. “Cum for me. Cum on my dick.” 

With one more flick of your clit you're trembling beneath him. Your cunt sucks him in and he takes it all with a loud moan. Chris lets your legs fall so that he can hover over you. He holds himself up on his elbows as he kisses you through your climax. You moan into it, shaking with each thrust and twitch of his cock. 

“Shit, that’s good. So good, baby, ‘m gonna cum.” The frantic bucking of his hips against yours comes to a halt as he falls apart. 

Moans tumble forward as he does. His muscles tense and his eyes roll back as he drives himself deep into you, filling you with every drop of himself that he has to offer. Chris collapses on top of you, his weight pinning you in place. 

You pant below him, coming down from your high as aftershocks wash over him. He kisses your neck, breathing heavily into your skin. 

“Now.” He pulls back slightly, gaze catching yours. “Now I’m happy.”

Thank You For Reading! Please Reblog or Comment to let me know how you liked it! It makes my day! 💕

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[chaosworthy]

➤ Talk To Me | Not Accepting

↳ @ultimumvitae asked: ❛ i’m going to get you out of here. ❜

{➹} – THIS HAD BEEN A MISTAKE. It wasn't like Arrow to get turned around, his sense of direction was usually flawless, but at some point he had gotten distracted there in the cave and all too quickly his situation had gone from content, to near panicked. The one saving grace was that he was in a big cavern, more than enough room to move around. More than enough light from the hanging lanterns to see. No need to panic.

Or so he told himself.

Perhaps it was the fear of getting more lost, or the fear that his nightmare would come true but he couldn't move from that spot. Couldn't will himself to press on, and he could feel fear mounting. So much so that his energy was acting in kind, an unnatural breeze kicking up at his feet. It was why he had taken the footsteps behind him as shifting rubble at first, not another person.

Not a semi-familiar face. And it was sheer luck that the touch to a tan shoulder didn't see the black hedgehog attacked in some way. The only thing that managed to calm the hero somewhat was those eight words. He had no choice but to believe them, and gave a small nod. He didn't even realize he soon had a death grip on the other's hand.

"Thank you..."

[twcbelts]

@psychoscials    sent    :    five    times    glanced.

beads    of     sweat     drip    from    forehead,    legs    peddling    as    she    goes.    she's determined    to    beat    rhonda,    beat    charlotte,    win    the    triple     threat    match    ,     and     become     the     champ    she    knew     she'd     always    be    ...    the     double    champ.     to    hold    both    belts,    one    of    which     she     was     the     first    to    hold,    again    is    an    honor,    a    privilege,    and    something    she    has    earned.    brief    flicker    of    focus    from     workout    machine    to     damian     as    he    claims     the    one    next    to   her.    thin    line    of    a    smile     forms    on    countenance    in    greeting.    "    hey,    lad.    "

she    stands    in    the    meeting    room,    waiting.    patience    hasn't     exactly    been    becky's    strong    suit,    especially    when    it    comes    to    finn,    and    obscure    group    texts    from    him    telling    her    and    the    rest     of     the    judgement    day     faction    to    meet    him    for    a    little    conference    of    sorts.    arms    unfold    from    beneath    chest,    pushing    herself    up    off    the    wall    to    then    brace    her    weight    upon    table.    across   the    way    sat    damian,    a    force    to    be    reckoned    with,   a    powerhouse    in    his    own    right.    quirk    of   brow,    questioning    expression    as    she    gazes    upon    his    visage.    "     ya    got    any    idea    why    we're    here?    "

the    dark    streets    of    new    orleans    are    a    bustle    as    half    the    roster    roam    after    the    night's    episode    of    raw.   fingers    are    wrapped    around    beer    bottle    as    she    finds    herself     beside     priest,    keeping     in     stride    with    him    but    just    barely.    height     difference    causes    a     level    of     difficulty    in    this,    but     she     doesn't    dare    let    it    show.    she's    a    champion,    after    all.    there's    a     certain     reputation     of     capability     to    uphold    here.    as    she    takes    a    swig    of    her    beer,     she    uses    her    peripheral    vision    to    steal    a    glance    at    him.    it's    short-lived    but    shelf    life     doesn't     equate    substance,    and    even    the    most    brief    actions     can    carry     a    lot    of    weight.    boot    clad    feet    kick    around    a    lone    rock     along    cobblestone    path,    taking    in    the     full    moon    casting    silver    glow    overhead    before     finally    giving    damien    her    full    attention.    "    aye,    ya    did    good    tonight    lad.   "    playful    jab    of    free    fist    to    forearm. 

tension   is   palpable    in    the   air   between    them,    like   god   and   the   very   devil    dancing    ‘round    them,    tempting   her   and   exalting   her   all   the   same.   lashes   fan   ‘cross    the   expanse    of   freckled   cheeks   as   expression    contorts    into   something   sheepish   and    menacing    in    equal    measure.    she   knows    she    should   look   away,   before   she’s   caught    in    the   act,    but    she   can’t   help   it.    like   a   mountain   moving,    she    watches    him    circle    the    ring,   noting   how   mascara   painted   hues   find   her    ...   the   jig    is    up   now.    mouth   agape,    she   slowly   begins    to    walk    backwards,    away    from    him,    pace    quickening   as   she   realizes    short    legs    are    no    competition    for   him.    “    oh,    shit,     um      ...    “    jaw    clenches,   looking   back   to   ensure   she   doesn’t   run   into   anything.   eventually,   she’s   on   the   ramp,   slick    flooring    making    boots    move    fluidly    against   surface.   “   ....    what   -   what’re   ya   gonna   do,   lad?   “       did    she   really   wanna  know? 

body   collides    against    ring    floor,    vision   blurred   in    the   wake    of    abrupt   and    unanticipated   act.   low   groan    expelled   as   she   turns,   trying   desperately    to   get   up.   she   had    to   keep   fighting,   couldn’t   afford   to   lose.   not   now,    not   ever.   not   when   they   were   counting   on     her.   palms   press   firmly   into   the  mat   beneath   her,   pushing   up   all    the    while   looking   for   friendlies,    someone    she   could    tap    in,   anyone.   blinking,   focus   returns   and   it’s   only    then    when   gaze   finds   damian.   hand    reaches    outward,    begging    to    reach    him    in    their   respective   corner.    “    aye,    c’mon   lad!  “    voice   rings   out,   barely   able   to   be   heard   over   the   crowd   screaming.    fingers   wag,   desperate   to   get   closer,   close   enough   to   reach   him.  

[starkeysprincess]

rafe fucking you in the house of mirrors ➔︎ loosely based on this thot

warnings: piv, unprotected sex, degrading, praising creampie, 18+ mdni

a/n: thank you to my baby @zyafics for matching my freak 🙂‍↕️ altered the idea of him chasing you through haunted maze to house of mirrors

you could feel your heart thumping against your ribcage, hearing the thudding of his shoes approaching closer by the second. you looked around, eyes squinting from the flashing lights, trying to look for the exit of the house of mirrors.

“there’s nowhere for you to hide, baby,” his voice echoed, “you know the deal, so you might as well stay put where you are”.

you decided to retrace your steps after meeting with a dead end when you turned round the corner.

“gotcha,” his arm wrapped around your waist, a scream bubbled in your throat, barely leaving your lips when his hand clamped around your mouth.

“makin’ it too easy f’me,“ rafe chuckled, his lips brushing against your ear, nipping it gently. his hand moved down your waist, slipping under your skirt to your panties, tsking when he felt the small wet patch staining them.

a small gasp is pulled from you when his hands grab at the fabric with both hands, yanking harshly enough to tear the skimpy material into two, “knew a dirty slut like you would like this.” he rasps.

he pushed you forward, your palms planting against the mirror to catch yourself and you heard the clink of his belt hitting the floor, his pants pooling around his ankles. he nudged his knee between your legs to spread them further apart, rubbing the fat head of his cock against your slick folds.

rafe fisted the now torn panties into his palm, bringing it towards your mouth, “open”.

his fingers threaded through your hair, tugging at the roots, earning a yelp from you, “i said open your fuckin’ mouth,” he gritted his teeth, taking the opportunity to shove the pair into your mouth.

your shriek was muffled as he slammed his cock deep into your drooling cunt, “gonna ruin this sweet little cunt of yours”.

his hips snap into yours, his thick, veiny cock pushing and pulling against your inner walls. your eyes rolled back when you started to pushed yourself back, fucking yourself onto his dick to meet his harsh thrusts.

rafe groaned, pulling your body into his till your back was flush to his chest, his free hand reaching around to grab your throat, holding your head upright.

his hand digs into your windpipe, “keep your goddamn eyes open, shouldn’t be lookin’ anywhere but one of these mirrors to watch yourself get fucked dumb.”.

rafe’s large palm sprawls against your belly, pushing down to feel the bulge protruding, “see that? see how fuckin’ deep i am? pussy was made only f’me, yeah?”.

his eyes flutter shut for a mere second, feeling your arousal grow, dripping down his length to his balls. the combination of the wet, squelching sounds and your muffled whimpers bounced off the mirrors around you.

his cock swells when he meets your eyes in the reflection, and he can’t help but glimpse at the surrounding mirrors to watch the different angles of him pounding into your poor abused cunt.

you held onto his arms, nails clawing at his skin as you squirmed against him, drool saturating the makeshift gag. the persistent abuse on your cervix caused by the tip of his cock had tears welling in your eyes. your body jolts when he pinches your clit, “don’t you dare fuckin’ cum until i tell you to”.

his arm tightened around your waist as your legs started shaking, ready to give out any second. his hips brutally snapping into yours as he grabs your waist with both of his hands, pulling you back and forth onto his thick cock, using you like a fucktoy.

“god…look at you, such a fuckin’ mess,” rafe rasps, taking in your mascara-stained cheeks before his eyes drifted to where the two of you were joined. he watched as his cock slid in and out of you, groaning at the white, creamy ring your cunt made around him, “shit, don’t know whether you’re makin’ more of a mess on your face or on my cock”.

your muffled cries brought his attention back to your face, his hand wrapping around your throat once again to pull you back to his muscular chest.

“you’re so close, aren’t you, baby?” he grunted, his thumb circling your clit faster, “c’mon, beg daddy to let you cum”.

“oh, that’s right, you can’t speak“, his chest vibrated against your back when he chuckled, realizing your pleas were incoherent due to your panties being stuffed in your mouth.

“cum f’me, wanna feel you creamin’ all over my dick,” rafe grits his teeth, feeling your inner walls tighten and flutter around him. you cry out, biting down onto the silk material as your orgasm washes over you.

“atta girl, such a good little cumslut,” rafe praises, his hips stuttering as he thrusts into you one more time, burying himself deep into your cunt, filling you with thick ropes of his cum.

taglist: @oceandriveab @babygorewhore @cameronsprincess @xxbimbobunnyxx @fae-of-prey @heartsforvin @justafangirls-blog @sturnioloshacker @starkeyisthelastname @userchai @bunnyrafe @drewstarkeys-world @nemesyaaa @drewsarms @rafesthroatbaby @rafestaurusgf @hallecarey1 @fallrafwe @rafecameroninterlude @johnnycakess @sturnskiss @blckbrrybasket @rafeyscurtainbangs @wearemadeofstardust0 @honeybunniesoobin @starkeysbebe @spid6y @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @amandabbbbb @kisses4angel @starkeysheart @rafeinterlude @flvredcas @emilysuperswag @hyperfixationgirl @ijustwanttoreadlols @slumnit @fallbhind

[sweet-as-an-angel]

so! you mentioned in the 'p0rn preferences' post that Gaz is not the one who jerks off the most in the 141, and I humbly ask you, who would that be?

I don't mean this as a request, just a little discussion, cause I feel like Soap would just be going at it at any chance possible, like a bunny. he probably doesn't care much if someone hears it, but that's just me thinking too much into it.

Who Jerks off the Most in the 141 + König

Warnings: 18+, Heavy Mentions of Masturbation, Male Masturbation, Implied Reader in Individual Headcanons, Accidental and Implied Voyeurism, Edging, Brief Mention of Injury, Men Who Moan <3, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except 'You'.

A/N: As per Anon's question (which I just had to turn into a post of its own) I present to you the list of the 141 members (and König) who jerk off from the most to least <3

Soap

I have to agree with you here, Anon - Johnny is most definitely the king of self love when it comes to the 141.

He doesn't much care where he is or who he's with; when he has to satisfy his needs, he'll do so.

Though, he'll spare whoever's with him the sight of watching him throwing his head back, trying to stifle his moans behind gritted teeth whilst the wet sound of his hand slipping up and down the length of his shaft fill the room.

Unless they want to.

For one reason or another, he's nigh-insatiable when it comes to his libido, and the fact that his stamina affords him the luxury of beating himself off until his cum is practically translucent doesn't help.

The slightest thing can set him off.

Someone brushing past him ? Hard.

Someone stroking his ego a little too enthusiastically ? Bricked up.

He sees something that's shaped to be a little too curvy or phallic ? Stiff as a pole.

He remembers something mildly suggestive you did three years ago in that restaurant ? He's going to the Horny Realm.

Yes, his teammates have complained about his incessant moaning-come-grunting-come-whimpering through all hours of the night, his voice contorting through a spectrum of desperation and Johnny always ending up spent and overstimulated by the time the sun comes up.

And then he's ready to do it all again the second night touches the horizon line, giving his teammates a knowing smile when he walks into the room sporting nothing else save for a pair of boxers and a monster that looks to be trying to tear itself free from them.

Gaz

Dude's young. Of course he's throttling that rooster on a nigh-daily basis.

The only reason he's not at it as much as Soap is because he likes to believe he still has a few threads of his self-restraint intact.

He doesn't.

Especially when it comes to you (regardless of whether you're dating yet or not).

But he doesn't need to know that.

Honestly, the only thing that separates him from Johnny's unmatched libido is the fact that it takes a little more than the slightest provocation to get Gaz going.

Albeit, that line is a thin one.

If he so much as accidentally sees something explicit for upwards of three seconds, he's hard.

The only advantage of his need for satisfaction is the speed with which he can achieve it.

He and Johnny actually timed each other once to see who could get off the fastest.

Gaz won. Though, only by a slim margin.

Needless to say, that made for a rather interesting conversation with the Captain when he walked in on two of his best soldiers sat panting on the edge of their cots, an almost-translucent spray spattered across their stomachs, eyes half-lidded and hazy.

Ghost

The third-in-line for the Throttle Throne is none other than our beloved Ghost.

Unlike Johnny and Gaz, Ghost is more likely to leave himself alone at the first sign of trouble, toughing it out until he can will his mind to less lustful pastimes.

He won't make his jacking off known to anyone, either, often doing it in the shower where the water beats down so harshly that no sound can be heard for the water's fall.

That, and he's a master at keeping his voice low, no matter the circumstances.

More often than not, Simon makes quick work of jerking off purely because it’s a means to an end. However, if it’s you he’s thinking of, he’s much more likely to take his time — to immerse himself in the fantasy of your body around his, taking him so well in one capacity or another. Fucking yourself dumb on his cock.

During these times, he’s thorough — much more likely to edge himself, to throw his head back and growl between gritted teeth, to savour the sensation coiling in his stomach, his balls growing tight.

Otherwise, he’ll stroke one out as quickly as he can, getting back to business as usual.

And to look at him, on the surface, you'd never know that he just spent the last three minutes rubbing one out in the bathroom (yes, he is also a contender for first place in the 'Who Can Jack Off The Quickest Competition', but he'll never allow Johnny or Gaz the luxury of witnessing his unprecedented skill; that's for your eyes only).

Until he corners you, breathing down your neck, scolding you for tempting him - a man whose restraint lies only in his ability to hold off from reducing you to an exponential reflection of his prior state, breathless and covered in fluids.

König

Have you seen the size of that thing ? Man should be in the olympics for being able to throw that weight around.

Similarly to Ghost, König only gets himself off when it's absolutely necessary.

Only if he doesn't have you lying around to help him, of course.

Though, he lets himself have a bit of fun with it. Especially if it's been a tough day.

He's vocal, too. Though he tries not to be.

He just can't help it. Days' - maybe even weeks' - worth of unspent adrenaline and semen is hardly any way for a soldier like König to go about his life. So, he expels it in the privacy of quite literally any isolated space he can find.

König is not an adventurous spirit by any means when it comes to self pleasure, but when needs must, he's willing to shoulder the weight of the prospect that someone on his team could walk in at any second and catch him spraying his stomach or the wall white with, let's face it, thick ropes of cum.

Hong-Jin's actually caught him doing that before now.

That's actually how the two became friends: Horangi heard König grunting in the store cupboard and, knowing how stubborn his Colonel was with letting others know when he was injured, sought him out. Wanted to offer his help.

Catching Colonel König in the act of throwing his head back whilst growling the name '(Y/N)' into the darkest corner of the room was, suffice it to say, not what Horangi had been expecting.

Price

You just know he's cool with it. And by 'cool', I mean incredibly intentional, controlled, and not ravenous in the ways our other favourite military princesses are.

Sure, Price has gotten hard on the job a few times.

Who hasn't ?

But thanks to his level head, unwavering devotion to his work, and absolute refusal to acknowledge that he did, in fact, get a little bit of a chub during a shoot-out, he's managed to gain control over every facet of his body.

Until he comes home to you, of course.

Until he's able to loom over you like an omen and run his hands down your sides, stopping at your hips and pressing kisses that become more open-mouthed the further down the side of your neck he dips.

Pressing his hips into yours. Something demands your attention.

There have been very few occasions where a cold shower wasn't a quick enough fix for him.

When the days of having you milk him are too far out of sight, he's had to suffice with his own hands before now. Had to imagine - remember - what yours felt like in his place, your lips curled up as he gripped the chair arms, breathless as he moaned into the warm tones of your shared apartment.

But don't worry ! He'll be sure to catch you up on everything you've missed while he's been away once he returns.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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