#have it with a glass of milky way

[uwudonoodle]

[betweenblackberrybranches]

Obsessed with the way @basyacriptid drew my fae au Eclipse so i made my own version of that, only the head tho because thats all my energy can do rn

[benkeibear]

『 Popping your cherry 』

☼ synopsis: Nanami was patient until you were ready, giving you a night full of pleasure and taking your virginity in a gentle way

☼ character: Nanami

☼ wc: 4.3k (oops)

☼ cw: fem!reader, afab!reader, no dynamics, soft sex, oral (reader giving and receiving), fingering, squirting, pussy job, creampie, lots of pet names, consent checks, gentle aftercare, slight body worship

☼ notes: I promised @kentophilia to repost one of my fave pieces 🥹

Nanami has been nothing but kind and patient with you ever since you two met, sure he had his moments where he snapped at you due to stress at his work but you never took it to heart, almost feeling bad that you didn't quite know how to help him since he always brushed you off before he would say something he regrets and you gave him the desired space. He would always come back to you after a long and hot shower, muscles relaxed, his mood way better.

It wasn't until you happened to walk past his big bathroom when he took one of these showers when you found out what was really going on. Through the noise of the water hitting the tiled floor you could hear soft groans, followed by a few mumbled words… Was he masturbating?

Your hand gently knocked against the closed door before you could stop it from happening, a few grumbles to be heard from the inside of the room. “It's open!” He called out mere seconds later, his thick shaft still resting heavy in his palm, body hidden away behind the steamed glass of the shower. Swiftly you entered the bathroom and went straight for the shower, your clothes falling in a trail as you approached your lover. “May I join?” You called out slightly hesitant, your cheeks heating up at the thought of seeing him like this for the first time, but silence filled the room until he eventually spoke a small “Yes”, unable to resist you any longer. Nanami wanted to take things slow with you, knowing you're inexperienced so he waited for you to make a move, to give a sign that you want him as much as he wants you - he was craving you, the image of your body clad in the beautiful sundress you wore once stuck in his head and leaving little space for imagination what your body beneath might look like. The thought of you was his sweet salvation and his downfall late at night when he couldn't sleep or during the day when he couldn't focus. Only you.

After taking a deep and shaky breath you opened the milky glass door of the shower, steam clouding your vision for mere seconds before it evaporated enough to see your lover standing in front of you, not daring to look down where you saw his cock standing proudly in the corner of your eyes.

Noticing how you seemed to be frozen to the spot, Nanami tried to cover his manhood with his large hands, his eyes staying respectfully on your face, not once wandering. “Changed your mind?” He asked with a soft voice, not a hint of pressure behind his words, just curiosity, but you quickly shook your head no to let him know that you did not change your mind. With a careful step you joined the blonde man in the shower, hot water cascading down your figure yet his eyes remained trained on your face.

“Warm enough?” He asked caring, his voice soft as silk when he spoke which seemed to calm your breath a little. “It could be a bit warmer… if you don't mind,” you mumble, feeling a little awkward for intruding on him during such a private moment and now you just stand around in front of him, fidgeting nervously with your hands while he reached out to the faucet, brushing past the soft skin of your arm which you had draped over your chest in a rather shy manner. This simple touch alone left your skin to erupt with goosebumps and your eyes wandered over his strong arms, ending at his chest before you looked to the dark tiled wall once more, the rippling muscles beneath his skin embedded in your brain now. “You don't have to be so reserved. I'm your partner after all,” he pointed out lightly, not minding your eyes on him and as much as he wanted to just push you against the wall and take you, he remained patient and caring. He knew this was a rather big step for you to take already and he didn't want to scare you with anything, but you simply nodded, unsure arms wrapping around his torso in a gentle hug.

Nanami held back a chuckle upon this sweet and innocent gesture, holding you close to his body underneath the big rainshower, hot water cascading down both your bodies now. He would lie if he said that your soft skin and your perked nipples pressed against him in such an intimate way didn't affect him but his body betrayed him already - his erection twitching against your stomach and letting you feel just how badly he needed you. He cleared his throat and was ready to mumble out an apology for being inappropriate during such a delicate moment, but you looked up at him with a newfound hunger hidden behind your eyes.

Without hesitation the blonde man leaned down to capture your soft lips in a heated kiss, his tongue no stranger to your mouth as the kiss grew heated like oh so many times before. The butterflies were doing cartwheels in your stomach when his large hands reached down to hold your hips, pulling you impossibly close to his body in an effort to get you even closer until you had to break the kiss for air, his kisses traveling to your neck and it was evident that both of you yearned for more than just a makeout session.

By the time your hand stroked over his rock hard abs it was clear to him and he nodded almost breathless, craving the touch of your soft hand wrapped around his shaft for the first time and when you finally did he couldn't hold back a relieved groan. Nanami’s lips returned to yours once again as he guided your much smaller hand up and down the length of his cock, showing you just the way he liked it, but the way your hand barely managed to wrap around his girth left his head spinning, desperate to maintain focus when his hands crept over to your body once more. Calloused hands resting on your hip and just below your chest, your nodding of wordless consent was all he needed to let his hands travel further, one pulling you closer as the other started kneading your chest. “You're so beautiful, doll” he managed to rasp out as his kisses returned to your neck once more, his low moans and pants filling your senses as your hand worked on his length to help him get off.

Your soft whines didn't go unnoticed by him when he gently rolled your pebbled nipple between his thumb and index finger, his lips now trailing down to take care of your neglected breast, the warmth of his mouth engulfing one nipple while his fingers played with the other and you started to rub your thighs together in desperation. “Let me take care of you,” he mouthed against the soft flesh of your boobs and you could only nod, your hand working faster on him as his teeth tugged on your nipple ever so gently. He should have felt ashamed for being selfish, but your hands working on him got him off faster than his own ever could, thick ropes of cum painting your stomach and hands only to be washed away by the water right away, his head resting in the crook of your neck for a short moment, but before you knew it, his fingers were brushing against your thighs, begging for you to open up for him, which you did.

Skilled fingers caressed your inner thighs until he finally reached your core and just as he touched the part where you needed him most his sweet touch disappeared, a small chuckle vibrating through his chest which caught your attention. “We should take this to the bedroom, I want to take my time with you” he mumbled into your ear, his voice hoarse from how aroused he's gotten by the thought of finally claiming you as his entirely. You didn't need to answer him either, the way you turned off the water within a mere second was answer enough and he shook his head at how eager you seemed to be.

Leaving the warmth of the shower first, Nanami went to get a fresh towel for you, the soft fabric smelling like orchids and cotton, something you've started associating with him - with home. Just as he wrapped it around you, one hand stretched out to help you out of the shower and guided you to the bedroom you've been to a hundred times before. You should know the way by now but perhaps the towel that hung dangerously low on his hips, threatening to fall off, was all you could focus on. You were grateful for when he gently scooped you up into his strong arms, the hint of chest hair tickling your skin before you were placed onto the bed with utmost care.

Warm hands untucked the towel from around your body to reveal your beauty to him, your body entirely exposed but you didn't feel the need to cover up, his gaze letting the heat rush to your cheeks. He made you feel wanted, desired like you're the most beautiful woman on earth - and to him you were. You were perfect in every single way, almost feeling bad that he's about to ruin you like this but he craved to hear you whimper and whine for more, pawing at his sculpted body when he takes you past the edge, begging for him, pleading to fill you up - making you his entirely.

Of course he will take his sweet time until he is sure that you can handle him, the thought of hurting you made his heart clench and… he's been staring for too long, your sweet giggle filling his ears. You broke the shell of the stoic man, you could make him crawl to you if you'd only ask. He was fully devoted to you and your love, craving you, his body screaming for you in every way - it was almost scaring him but he was undoubtedly yours.

Kneeling down just in front of the bed he pulled your body closer, your beautiful legs now resting over his shoulders until your glistening folds were right in front of his face, his blonde hair tickling your thighs when he started pressing open mouthed kisses along your supple flesh. Minutes that felt like hours passed and you needed him, going crazy with how badly you yearned for his pleasure until your hands found their way into his silk like hair, pulling him towards your core with pleading eyes. “Patience, doll” he whispered, his warm breath fanning over your folds and eliciting goosebumps over your body. You've never had someone this close to your heat but it was Nanami - you had no reason to grow shy nor embarrassed over your feelings for him, his rock hard cock letting you know that he was equally eager for this.

His amber eyes held nothing but warmth in them when he pressed a kiss to the mound of your core, looking for any sign of discomfort in yours. “Yellow if it's too much, red if you need me to stop” his words cut the silence in the room, accompanied by the thumping of your heart now picking up, almost sounding like a war drum. You nodded, unable to form words in the anticipation laced with nervousness but it was enough for the man between your legs, trusting you to let him know if you weren't ready to go on and you knew he would never pressure you into anything.

Your eyes fluttered shut when you felt his kisses travel over your mound onto your folds until his thumbs ever so gently parted them, exposing your wetness to him. Unsure what to expect you gasped softly when the first kitten lick of his tongue brushed over your exposed clit, fingers digging into his scalp at the sensation. You could feel him smile at your reaction, his tongue traveling through your folds in a zigzag motion only to circle your bundle of nerves, alternating between gently flicking it with his tongue and sucking on it until you were helplessly bucking against his face, the pleasure washing over you which caught you entirely off guard with its intensity that you couldn't even warn your lover - but he knew.

Nanami's tongue kept playing with your clit until he heard the cry of his name leave your throat, begging him, for what you didn't even know yourself but the orgasm that followed was better than any you've given to yourself.

Allowing you to calm down, his tongue slowed down its assault on your sensitive nub only to travel further down, lapping up your arousal like a man starved. The slurping noises were lewd but you didn't want him to stop, neither when he pushed his tongue into your entrance, nor when his thumb came down to rub small circles at your overly sensitive clit. Nanami was entirely lost in your taste, eyes fluttering shut and breaking eye contact for a moment and it made you swoon, seeing how much he enjoyed this - how pleasing you was pleasing him. Your juices kept coating his tongue, followed by soft groans against your heat only for his tongue to leave your entrance and return to your clit once more.

“God. You're so addictive” he mumbled into you, the hand which rested on your thigh now joining his tongue, his index finger gently circling your entrance to gauge a reaction from you, seeing if you show any signs of it being too much, but you were babbling at this moment, cunt clenching around nothing when his tongue started his assault on your bundle of nerves once more. Nanami was certain that you needed this as much as he did, ever so gently pushing his finger into your untouched hole just to feel how tight you clench around him from the intrusion. Nodding you started grinding against his face and finger, needing him deeper, needing more and he heard you, briefly pulling his finger out of you before replacing it with his middle- and ringfinger. Your cunt sucked them in, almost struggling to accommodate his thick digits - the stretch much more than your fingers ever managed and when he curled them into your sweet spot it was over for you once again. A loud whine erupted from your throat as the squelching noises of your pussy grew in volume “Ke-Kento… too much!” You whimpered helplessly to get him to slow down but the second your sweet voice reached his ears a clear stream of liquid splashed out of you and against his tongue. His fingers slowed down the moment you begged for it but your orgasm already washed over you, legs shaking violently on his shoulders when he lapped up the juices that just squirted out of you.

Your ears were ringing as your lungs desperately tried to get air back into them, not even noticing how your lover was raking his hands over your thighs in a caring manner, absolutely mesmerized by you. He knew very well that your body was pushed past its boundaries so he wanted to stop or at least give you a break but you finally came back to your senses, your gaze still hungry despite looking utterly fucked out by just his tongue and fingers. “Don't stop… please,” you whimpered, begging him for more. Oh you little vixen, knowing exactly how to play his heartstrings - how is he supposed to deny you such a request when he could devour you whole?

A single kiss was pressed to your right thigh before he put it down onto the bed, shaking his head with a breathless chuckle when he caught a glimpse of your frown. “You're going to be the death of me, love” he mumbled amused, your left leg now lined up with his chest and shoulder as he stood between your thighs. The feeling of his cock resting just above your heat made you want to scream, the kiss that was placed upon your ankle provoked the smallest whimper to erupt out of you. “Please Kento,” You encouraged him, being entirely certain about going this step with him and he nodded, thumbs spreading your folds once more to get a view on how wet he got you, a small puddle forming underneath your ass on the bed and he deemed it good enough to drag his length through your cunt, slowly.

Nanami wouldn't last long if he made love to you now, far too riled up from all your moans, your taste and the way you squirted just from two of his fingers working their magic on you. “Ken… i need you” you begged, soft voice sounding strained now, almost desperate but he only picked up his pace slightly, his tip now nudging your clit just the right ways to have you mewling for him once again, hands digging into the bedsheets from how sensitive you were by now and it needed everything inside of him to not push his cock inside of you when he felt close.

You could feel the twitching of his shaft against your wet cunt, heavy balls clenching as he spilled his seed over your heat and lower stomach, his head thrown back while a guttural moan left his throat. You really were going to be the death of him - now he was certain. Seeing your little pussy covered in cum did things to him, eyes darkening when he dragged the head of his cock through your folds once again to collect your mixed juices, only stopping when he arrived at your entrance. One last time his eyes wandered up your body to rest on your half closed eyes, looking so tired but so happy at the same time.

Nanami needed to make sure that you still wanted this since you were almost at a point of no return. Sensing his hesitation you reached your palm out towards him, letting the man that stood tall like a tree between your legs lower himself so you may cup his cheek in the most loving way. “I want you, Kento Nanami. I've never been more sure of something in my life before,” you whispered softly, the room around you falling quiet once more, only your heartbeats to be heard, hammering against your chests and begging to be united.

Your gentle giant couldn't ask for more from you, hearing you say it loud and clear - you wanted him, wanted this. His soft lips captured yours in an enchanting kiss and taking your mind entirely off of the way the bulbous head of his dick slowly pushed past your tight entrance and molding you to be his.

A hiccup caused by your pain interrupted the sensual kiss but Nanami was quick to help you, halting his advances when his length was halfway inside of you, taking your virginity with utmost care. “Shh… you're doing so good for me, doll. Do you want me to stop?” His voice sounded strained, yet caring and it was clear that it took everything in him to not thrust the remaining half into you which was greatly appreciated. His forehead connected with yours after he pressed a kiss to yours, waiting for you to say something, anything. “G-green” your voice cut through the silence and allowed him to go on which he did, one of his hands still holding your leg to his chest while the other intertwined with yours, lips returning to yours in a desperate attempt to ground himself so he won't lose control. Hurting you was the last thing Nanami wanted to do after all.

His balls rested heavy against you when he finally bottomed out, his deep groan echoing off the walls when you raked your fingers over his well defined back, feeling every ripple of his muscles beneath his pale skin. “Taking me so- fuck… so well,” he moaned breathless when his hips started to move with small thrusts, his thumb wiping a stray tear from your cheek and you're not sure if it was from the pain or the fact that he made you feel so incredibly good. Weakly you nodded your head, drinking the praise in like it's the essence that's keeping you alive. “My good girl,” he continued, hips meeting yours with every word and he felt like his heart would beat out of his chest at any moment, seeing your jaw slowly going slack and your moans growing in volume to create this lewd image of his usually so sweet love.

Nanami had to halt, his chest rising and sinking rapidly from the way you manage to steal his breath, your wet cunt gripping him like a vice and trying to milk him from all he's worth and he wanted to just fuck you senseless right then and there, hips pistonning into you like his life depended on it… but he didn't - he couldn't. Not this time at least. Instead his hips moved in slow but deep, rhythmic thrusts which let him feel every ridge inside your heat and only adding to his bottomless hunger for you. You were moaning beneath him, angelic sounds to his ears but when he straightened up so he was no longer bending over you on the bed you suddenly cried out his name in pleasure, soft moans turning desperate for more.

The new angle made you feel even fuller than before, his tip angled perfectly to hit your sweet spot with every gentle thrust until your glossy eyes landed on his almost closed ones, nodding over and over “I know you're close, princess. Just let go,” he encouraged you, his thrusts picking up their pace to push against your sweet spot repeatedly until your toes curled and your back arched so perfectly off the mattress. His thumb rubbed tight circles onto your sensitive clit to drag out this earth shattering orgasm as long as possible - you deserved a first time to remember fondly after all but he just doesn't stop. Your breathless whines turned into cries for him, for more, for him to not stop. You were high on this feeling he gave to you, his hips rutting into you aimlessly at this point and his head was thrown back as his moans mixed with yours. “One more, just- fuck! Just one more,” he groaned with a rough voice, needing to feel you clench around him in bliss again before he allowed himself to follow you.

When your pussy clenched around him as another orgasm rippled through your beautiful body, he finally understood why they call it a little death. His hips thrusted into you a final time, burying himself as deep as he physically could while his dick twitched wildly inside of you and you could feel the way his balls contracted, slowly filling you up with his release.

Nanami's vision went white for a moment, pure bliss taking over and his body feeling like he was floating on cloud nine - this is why they call it a little death. You were going to be his own piece of heaven, your core gripping his cock so tightly he felt like it was hard to breathe but at the same time you were the oxygen his lungs needed.

His barely there thrusts finally came to a stop and he lifted your leg off his chest and shoulder before lifting your body against his chest so you could be as close as possible without having to slip out. The way he fell onto the bed with you was almost clumsy but he didn't want to let go of you, not even for a fraction of a second.

His big hand came up to wipe a strand of hair behind your ear, a tired smile on his lips “Are you okay, doll?” he asks with his voice like silk, needing to know if you're fine and you nodded tired, laying on top of him now with your bodies still connected. Even with his own seed running out of you and onto his body and the bed beneath he made no effort to move, the moment too perfect. Your body was draped over his, your limbs ever so tired as his hands ran up and down your back which was sticky from the sweat but he didn't mind it for one second. This moment dragged on for a while, gentle touches and even gentler kisses shared between lovers until your breath started to even out. In your half awake state you barely noticed how he carefully picked up your tired body to carry you into the room where it all began, only registering it when the sound of the water running and the scent of lavender filled your exhausted senses. “You can just rest, I'll clean you up” he whispered and lowered you into the warm water of the bathtub, following you mere seconds after where he let you rest against his chest again. You let your eyes remain closed when he picked up the softest washcloth, slowly dragging it over your arms, your torso, your legs and lastly over your sore pussy, still leaking his cum. There was nothing sexual in his touch, only tender care as he made sure to clean your body from any filth so you may rest and let him take care of you so you could wake in the bed to the smell of breakfast in the morning…

[2hightocare]

APOCALYPSE!

“I could go a fair bit crazy over you.”

Synopsis: In which your boyfriend loves doing corny things with you… he also loves doing you.

Genre: established relationship.

Pairings: boyfriend!jungkook x fem!reader

warnings: smut.. car sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up bro) creampie, praise, size kink, belly bulge, cussing, fluff at beginning and end, banter between couple, oral, overstimulation, squirting, making out, reader crying out of pleasure, choking, spanking, dirty talking, reader fucked ‘dumb’, mentions of ot7, they’re so corny it’s sickening.

author note 🗒️: wrote majority of this shit being faded as fuck so forgive me if it’s ass and ignore the mistakes (I’ll get to them eventually) js wanted to thank everyone for 3k🤍… writers block has been an thing these pasts months so sorry that I haven’t posted anything new. Here’s more of kuwtb oc and jk dating era 🤍

“I should’ve brought my glasses,” you whisper, a loud laugh ripping out of Jungkook's chest. “I can’t see anything, baby.” You turn to your side before swatting him on the chest— a pout displayed on your face, before going back to your original position, looking up at the dark milky way.

“We were having a cute moment, and you just blurt that out,” your boyfriend quips, his eyes focused on your side profile. A small smile tugs on his lips as he sees you scrunch up your nose, shaking your head slightly.

“You’re so right, we are so corny.” You playfully stick your tongue out with a small “yuck,” before bursting into a giggle when Jungkook tickles your side.

“‘Can we lay on the grass and look at the stars?’” Jungkook mocks your voice, changing his tone into a much more high-pitched version to match yours.

“Stop! I wanted to have a moment like Noah and Allie,” you puff, a smile threatening to come out.

“Baby, you know they look at the traffic lights and not the stars, right?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow at you.

“Of course I know, but I feel like we would actually get run over. Plus, I like you too much to just let you get run over.” You shrug, your fingers pulling on the grass on the floor. Your eyes connect to the sky as Jungkook stares at your side profile— taking in every imperfection and turning it into another reason why he loves you.

“Like?” he asks, his thumb running over your bottom lip before tilting your head to the side by your chin, making you look at him.

Your heartbeat skyrockets as he stares into your eyes, the twinkle in them prettier than the stars you were just trying to see. Your stomach lights up as if millions of fireworks exploded in heart-shaped sparkles.

“Love.” You correct yourself, rolling your eyes playfully.

“That’s better.” Jungkook clicks his tongue, pursing his lips out. You let out a giggle, dropping a small chaste kiss on his lips before turning back to the sky with a goofy smile on your face.

“You believe in aliens?” you ask, cracking a smile from Jungkook's face— his dimple carving into his skin as he bites his bottom lip, trying to contain the biggest smile.

“Fuck yeah.” Jungkook nods excitedly.

“We are literally a rock when it comes to the whole universe. There’s gotta be something out there.” Jungkook explains, expanding his arms and pointing to the sky, as you nod happily beside him.

“I agree, my mom said she saw one of those spaceships or whatever they’re called,” you pipe in, turning to your side to face your boyfriend.

“You mean a UFO, baby?” Jungkook's face scrunches in adoration.

“UFO?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Unidentified flying object,” he explains, scooting closer to you— dropping his head to your bare stomach.

“I like spaceships better.” You shrug, and he laughs, adjusting himself slightly. Your fingers find their way into his fluffy hair, combing through it. He moans slightly, melting into your touch, closing his eyes, and dropping a gentle kiss on your abdomen.

“What would you do if an alien kidnapped you?” Jungkook asks, his voice muffled.

“Funny for you to think I would allow it,” you say nonchalantly.

You both could hear a hairpin drop from how quiet you both went before breaking out into a fit of laughter. “Smartass.” Jungkook laughs, jokingly biting your stomach and earning a small squeal from you.

Your laughs die down after a while, replaced by silence, the only sounds being your guys breathing. Your eyes flutter shut with a smile, small goosebumps raising on your arms as Jungkook runs his fingertips on your belly— outlining ‘mine’.

“Tell me about your books,” Jungkook murmurs against your bare skin.

“Wanna know about my current read?” you ask, your fingers tugging softly on his hair, making him look up at you.

“I wanna know everything about you, baby,” Jungkook coos.

“Corny.” You scrunch your nose, placing a palm over his face and pushing softly backward, making him laugh. “Tell me about the thick-ass book I bought you two days ago.” Your boyfriend drops kisses all over your stomach.

“The dragon one?” you poke his cheek, before letting your finger play with his lip ring.

“There’s dragons?” Jungkook gasps, looking up at you.

“Yeah, and they have sex,” you say with a smothering giggle, whispering the last words in a hushed tone, making Jungkook's eyes widen.

“That’s enough, baby.” Your boyfriend raises an eyebrow before shaking his head, changing the topic to the latest drama, including Eunbi and Yoongi.

“Lora and I saw them coming out of the guest room while you were doing cartwheels with Taehyung,” Jungkook chuckles, the amusement on his face rubbing off on you.

“You’re lying,” you gasp, your jaw dropping open.

“I honestly didn’t see it coming.” Jungkook bites his lip, containing a smile. “Do you think Yoongi is the sub?” he continues before bursting out in a laugh, you following along.

"It's going to rain," you observe after a while, noticing a lightning strike in the dark sky. Jungkook hums in agreement before sitting up. He holds out his palm for you to take, which you do, and pulls you up onto his lap in a quick, soft motion.

You immediately wrap your arms around his neck, adjusting on his lap and straddling him. His thumbs rub circles on your bare thighs.

"I want another tattoo," Jungkook murmurs, his lips pressing kisses along your collarbone and neck. You nod slightly, enjoying the sensation of his lips against your skin.

"Where?" you ask, holding his head in place with your palms. He bites his bottom lip, looking up at you with dilated pupils.

"My forehead, and it'll be your name," Jungkook says with a grin, making you roll your eyes playfully.

"You're annoying," you retort, pushing his head backwards, making him gasp dramatically.

"I think it'll look good, you know? Just got to pick a cool font," Jungkook jokes, poking your side, sending you squirming on his lap.

"You're never ever getting my name tattooed on you," you shoot him a glare, which he only responds to by sucking in his lips and widening his eyes before shrugging.

"I think your lips tattooed on my hip bone would be hot," Jungkook wiggles his eyebrows.

"You're crazy," you pout, scrunching your nose as he gives your cheek a kiss.

"Yeah?" Your boyfriend smirks, his hands gripping the sides of your waist, squeezing softly, pulling you closer to him.

"I could go a fair bit crazy over you, baby." His lips brush against yours.

Suddenly, the air is knocked out of your lungs when his lips crash against yours. It doesn't matter how many times he has kissed you; you just can't control the utter madness of butterflies swarming your stomach. The fuzzy feeling fills your senses with every touch of his fingertips on your hot skin. The warmth of his touch, the softness of his lips against yours, all conspire to make your heart flutter with the same giddy excitement as the very first time.

His touch is electric, sending shivers cascading down your spine as his fingers trace the curve of your jaw, his hand gently cradling your face. With a tender yet insistent pressure, he deepens the kiss, his lips parting yours in a silent invitation.

You can feel the heat of his body pressed against yours as you move your hips against his. A soft moan slips past your lips into Jungkook's mouth as he guides your hips on his hardened length.

Jungkook's hand travels up, tangling in your hair, small, light rain drops start to fall down from the dark sky.

"Car?" he says in between kisses. You nod, moaning at the sensation of his lips on your collarbone, leaving purple, reddish marks.

You could never get tired of the way Jungkook looked at you, his eyes shimmery with a mix of love, need, and adoration. It was intoxicating, making you forget all your problems. The universe could have collapsed around you, and you would only care about his mouth on yours.

Everything about him was perfect, his scent, his touch, his voice, those beautiful lips, the way he looked at you, as if you were the only one that mattered in his world.

"Yes, car," you agree, breathy and disheveled.

In a swift motion, Jungkook stood and lifted you, carrying you to the car as you wrapped your legs around his waist. It wasn't until you reached the car that he broke the intense kiss, leaving your lips tingling with desire.

With a wicked grin, Jungkook, laid you on the backseat of his car. Jungkook’s fingers found the hem of your crop top, lifting it up, and you helped by throwing your hands over your head- revealing your lacy black bra.

A soft moan fell from your lips as he freed your breasts from the lace, by tugging downwards.

Your soft moans echoed within the car when your boyfriend cups your tits, massaging and kneading, your nipples hardening.

His lips found your jaw, kissing your neck— his eyes darted up to meet yours before his lips met the peak of your nipple, hot breath, then suckling gently, keeping his gaze locked before shifting his attention to the other breast.

Moaning, you bit your lip, head falling back from the sensation. Jungkook loved how responsive you are, the way your nails dig into his upper back.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” Jungkook moans, his calloused hands grip your waist in place to stop you from squirming on the leather seat.

He leaned in close, planting a trail of soft kisses along your neck and shoulders. “Mine.” Your boyfriend whispered into your skin.

You licked your lips, not able to find the words to say what you wanted, as all your thoughts were consumed by lust. Your back arched, encouraging the caresses he was giving. His hand grabbed the back of your head, pulling you closer. His lips met yours, deep and hungry, claiming your mouth as his. You let out a soft moan, your hands finding their way to his face.

“Spread your legs princess.” Jungkook says, his voice deep and gentle— he taps on your inner thigh.

You hum softly, watching your boyfriend work on the zipper and buttons from your denim shorts. Jungkook pulls down your shorts down your legs— your panties following quick after.

“Look how pretty this pussy is,” Jungkook chuckled, his eyes making contact with yours raising an eyebrow. He runs a finger down your slit making you choke out a desperate whine.

“Feels good baby?” He says, he adjusts himself— pushing your legs back, giving him more space to be face to face with your dripping core. You only moan in response when he drops a soft kiss on your clit.

You couldn’t help the whimpers that escaped your lips, He smiled against your heat, He licked his lips as he slowly parted your folds with his thumbs, revealing your glistening clit. He took it into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around it. You let out a desperate moan, your hips bucking in desperation.

He started flicking his tongue against your clit, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your back arched, grinding your pussy against his tongue, feeling it flick deep inside your folds.

“Ngh, right there,” You dug your nails into his hair, your toes curling.

“Right here baby?” Jungkook smirked, inserting two fingers into your sopping hole. You couldn't help but moan and nod, as his fingers curled inside you, hitting your sweet spot perfectly.

“Ass up, princess.” he ordered. Without needing to be told twice, you did as you were told, with wobbly legs you flip around. He roughly grabbed one cheek, squeezing it and spreading you, giving him a view of your tight, puckered hole.

Jungkooks cock twitches in his pants as he watches your holes clench over nothing. “Feeling empty?” He chuckles, a rough hand makes contact with your ass with a hard smack— your back arches. You let out a loud squeal, pleasure and pain mixing together.

He lets out a low growl, his cock straining against his pants, Jungkook moans as he watches your wetness begin to drip down your thighs onto his seats.

“Actually, do you want to tell me about the dragons you were reading about?” Jungkook jokes behind you making you snap your head backwards with a glare.

“You’re annoying.” You pout, Jungkook eyes twinkle with amusement— he bites down on his bottom lip containing the smile that is threatening to spill out. “Annoying? I have you spread out in front of me baby… your pussy is literally dripping.” Jungkook tilts his head to the side cheekily.

Your boyfriend taps on your ass for you to turn around.

He didn’t have to tell you twice as you flip around, before reaching for the waistband of his sweatpants. You pull down on the waistband, alongside his boxers. His cock springs out, the head red and aching.

Jungkook watches you wrap your hand over his thick length, giving a slow pump causing him to blow out a sigh. Jungkook stops you before you connect your lips with his cock.

“As much as I want you to give me the head of my life, I fucking need to be inside your pretty pussy right now baby.” Jungkook rushes out, tugging on your loose hair backwards.

You pout at him. “Let me fuck you.” Jungkook whispers, the grip on your hair tighten pulling you upwards— his lips milliliters away from your face.

“Fuck me.” You whimper.

The moment the words left your mouth jungkook is picking you up and placing you on top of his lap. You’re leaning your back against Jungkook's chest, your legs spread open on each side of his big thighs. His arm is snaked around your waist pulling you closer into him.

“Cramps?” Jungkook whispers into your neck, “not yet.” You joke, he shakes his head with a small laugh before you wrap your hand around his cock aligning it to your entrance.

“Going to take my cock like a good girl?” He guided your hand, aligning it to your dripping entrance. He rubbed the tip of his cock against your pussy before pushing his cock inside you. You feel the familiar pressure as he slowly slid his length inside you, your pussy sucking him in.

“So big.. fuck.” You moan, your pussy clenching around him making him moan against your ear. “If you keep doing that I’m going to cum.” He chuckled.

You dipped down onto his cock, his cock hitting your cervix when you completely sat down on it. Your legs shake beside you, his hands fastly grip underneath your thighs.

“All up my belly.” You moan, arching your back against him.

The sight of his cock inside you, buried up to the hilt, made him moan. "You're so tight," he half-whispered, half-growled against the shell of your ear, the roughness of his voice only fueling the intense passion that already burned through your veins.

He wove his fingers into your hair, guiding your head with an almost possessive need as he tilted you to give him better access to your lips. Jungkook crashed his mouth against yours, his tongue invading, claiming. His eyes closed for a moment as he savored the sensation of your wet, tight pussy engulfing him completely.

He groaned as you lifted yourself, his cock popping out momentarily before sliding back in when you slammed down on it, your cervix meeting his tip with each movement. It was a merciless, primal form of pleasure, your wetness coating his length with every thrust.

His eyes remained locked on you as you got lost in the sensation of his thick length filling you up, throaty moans leaving your lips as you moved on top of him, grinding down onto his cock, your hips moving in a circular motion. Jungkook couldn't help the low growl that left his throat

He pulled you back up, forcing you to bounce on his rigid cock, watching as your full lips parted in an ecstatic moan. The sway of your hips in time with the motion of his cock sliding in and out of you was so fucking erotic it was almost a crime.

You gasped, leaning back just enough to give Jungkook better access to your exposed neck. His cock hitting your g-spot repeatedly which each bounce.

Jungkook's hips bucked up, meeting your bounces, desperate to get as deep as he could, to fill you up completely. The sensation was almost overpowering. A familiar heat was building inside you, a sweet ache that craved release.

Your eyes rolled back, waves of pleasure overwhelmed you.

His hips pumped faster, his cock buried deep inside you, stretching you in the most exquisite way. Jungkook took your lips in another deep, greedy kiss, muffling the sounds of your cries as you rocked your hips wildly, trying to take him as deep as you could, desperate to reach that peak that felt so tantalizingly close.

“I can’t.” You cry, "That's it, baby, feel every inch." He urged you on.

The thrusts grew rougher, deafening the world around you except for the sound of your moans, his grunts, the soft squelching of your bodies coming together and the rain pouring outside.

The pressure built and built, coiling tighter and tighter until you could no longer contain it. Your entire body trembled as you came undone, shattering the quiet of the car with a lustful cry. Your pussy clamped down around Jungkook's cock,

"Cum for me, baby," he whispered, his voice hoarse with lust.

You let out a loud whine as his cock slipped out of you. Your body continued to rock back and forth, the ache of denial from not having his cock buried inside you being too much to bear. You glanced down between your legs, flushed when you noticed the stickiness that coated your inner thighs.

Jungkook picked up your trembling body and placed your back onto the leather seat. “Gon’ fuck you missionary so I can see your pretty face when I fill you up with my cum.” Your boyfriend growls.

Jungkook wasted no time, returning home, his cock sliding inside you once more as you let out a needy moan.

His thrusts were relentless, deep, and hard, driving himself into you. The way your pussy immediately clenched around him, took him in so greedily, made him groan, his eyes locked on yours.

A hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to keep you eager for air. “H-harder,” you pant, your voice growing hoarse as his grip tightened.

The car rocked beneath the force of his thrusts, the sounds of wet slaps echoed, mixed with your cries of pleasure, your head tossing back, your eyes rolling back at the ferocity of his thrusts, the sensations building once more, the climax burning beneath your skin.

"Harder...fuck, harder," you cried out, your voice high-pitched and desperate. Jungkook chuckled, releasing his hold on your throat, you gasp as you inhale deeply for air.

Jungkook fingers find their way to your clit once more, his thumb rubbing it in circles while he continues to thrust into your soaked cunt.

The mix of the insistent pressure on your clit and the rough thrusts was too much, a wave of pure pleasure crashing over you, your pussy gripping his cock, your body pulsing around him. Jungkook pulled out, watching with a devilish grin as your pussy squirted all over the two of you.

Jungkook slapped his cock on your swollen clit— watching your pussy spasm with spurts of juices, before pushing his cock back into you.

The sensation of being filled once more, the echo of your screams, bouncing off the car roof, and the overwhelming orgasm had left you lightheaded. You clung to Jungkook, panting, drool sliding down your chin.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me..." He groaned in pleasure, the sensation of your slick walls gripping him, almost drowning him.

"You... fuck me so good, baby," you panted, the words slurred, your voice bordering on sounding completely fucked-dumb. Your body shuddering, your pussy spasming around his cock, your orgasm brewing fast. Jungkook's hips sped up, his cock pulsing inside you.

Suddenly, your back arched, your vision filled with a white haze as another orgasm crashed over you. The delicious agony coursed through your body, your pussy clenching down on his cock, Jungkook grunted, feeling you contract around him, the sensation sending him over the edge. His cock pumped inside you, the warmth of his seed filling you up completely. He moaned against your neck, his heart pounding, lost in the sensation of having you completely wrapped around him

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, his jaw clenching, his eyes closed as he rode out the intense wave of ecstasy. His breath hitched, his hips jerking, before he collapsed against you, his cock still throbbing inside you, spent.

Your body continued to tremble, the aftershocks of the powerful climax lingering. Your heart raced, your breaths coming in ragged pants, sweat beading on your forehead.

With a low growl, Jungkook slowly pulled out of you leaving you feeling impossibly empty. The slick sound of his withdrawal accompanied by a heated chuckle of his.

Jungkook looked down, the sight of your pussy dripping with his cum— your wet pussy gaping, waiting for him to fill you once again.

Jungkook watched, captivated by the scene, as you reached down to collect his cum, watching as you pushed it back inside.

“Fuck.. that was hot.” Jungkook groaned, his lips landed on your face, trails of wet kisses from your forehead, down to your nose, your cheeks, and finally landing on your lips. The storm outside, the rain and thunder providing the soundtrack to your post-coital bliss.

Your limp, spent body sprawled over his car seats, your heart still racing, your breaths coming in shallow pants. You gazed up at him, the sweat on his forehead, the flush on his cheeks, the lust still in his eyes, his breathing heavy. A hand cupped your cheek, his fingers gently stroking your jawline as his lips moved against yours in a tender kiss.

Jungkook traced his fingers along your jawline, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

"You good, baby?" He asked, the tenderness in his voice, an unexpected warmth to the intensity of what had just happened.

Your eyes fluttered open, looking up at him and giving a slow, lazy smile. "Yeah, just a bit sore," you responded, blatantly referring to the aching between your legs.

"You're cute, baby," Jungkook whispered into your lips, the simple remark warming you, leaving your heart fluttering. You hummed in content.

The two of you lay there, naked, your skin still glistening from sweat, the weight of the storm outside more comforting than daunting. Your breaths slowly returning to normal.

A beat of silence permeated the car until Jungkook finally broke it, his voice brimming with mirth. "So... do you think we fucked better than the dragons from your book?"

[l13]

cw: nsfw! 18+ mdni, f!reader

BEST FRIEND'S DAD!CLARK KENT who has to subtly give you a once over when Jon introduces you as his best friend from uni. Has to try not to smile as you stare at him dreamily. Who feels strangely satisfied when you manage to say “Pleasure to meet you, sir.” Bf's dad, Clark, who tilts his head to the side just the slightest bit, and offers you his hand as if you weren't eye fucking him just now, “Pleasure's all mine, sweetheart.”

Bf’s dad, Clark, who always greets you with a big smile when you come over.

Bf’s dad Clark, who holds the car door open for you when he drops you off at your house late at night.

Bf’s dad, Clark, who’s so easy to talk to. Who listens carefully whenever you speak, always holding eye-contact. Who despite his size, is an absolute sweetheart. All wide eyes and dimples.

Bf’s dad, Clark, who the waiter mistakes for your boyfriend when taking your order, Jon conveniently timed to have been in the bathroom. Clark’s eyes widen comically, ears and cheekbones turning a lovely shade of red, as he waves his hands lowly, “Oh we’re not-” “So what’ll you have, honey?” your voice cuts him off, eyes still on the menu as you flip through it. When Clark doesn’t answer, you look up at him, raising your eyebrows and biting back a smile. 

You were enjoying this, he realized.

Bf’s dad, Clark, who can’t look at you in the eyes ever since. Who fidgets when you enter the room, making up any excuse to leave just to avoid thinking about you in that way. Because he does think about you. A lot. How couldn’t he? With your glitter covered eyes, lip gloss stained lips, and short skirts? He was a goner. He’d rather kick a wall than have to watch you reapply your lip gloss for the nth time. 

Bf’s dad Clark who has to pause his reading, glasses hanging from the bridge of his nose when you come over all giddy after a nail appointment, nails painted milky white, bows and other trinkets decorating them. Who has to hum and nod when you show them to him, acting as if he isn’t imagining your pretty hands around his cock. “Mm. Very pretty,” 

Bf’s dad, Clark, who has to watch you put cream on your legs while you’re all watching a movie. As if it's very common to do so in front of your best friend's dad. He thinks it shouldn’t be as erotic as it looked. Clark tries hard to keep his eyes glued on the tv and not stare at the way you sensually rub your hands up and down your thighs and calves.

Bf’s dad Clark who stiffens up, when Jon claims that “your legs are so sticky after though,” because how would his son know that?

Bf's dad Clark, who tosses and turns all night, trying to think back to all your past encounters, trying to pierce together how he missed the fact that you and Jon were dating. Because if you were, he was downright fucked.

Bf's dad Clark, who slowly starts getting mad at his son for not making it more obvious. For not kissing you whenever he saw you, not offering to drive you home, not treating you right. Clark who groans lowly and runs a hand down his face when he realizes that he's jealous of his own son.

Bf’s dad Clark who corners Jon the next morning, asking him all sorts of questions. “We’re obviously dating dad, I thought you knew..?”

Bf's dad, Clark who turns rigid, raising his voice at Jon for the first time in his life, still trying to be quiet for your sake, as you’re still sleeping upstairs. Whose fury isn't pointed to the fact that you and his son were dating, but more so to the fact that Jon didn’t pamper you enough. Didn’t give you any extra attention, didn’t spoil you like you deserved. And poor Jon has to hear his dad tell him to “Be a good boyfriend, I taught you better than that.”

Bf’s dad Clark, who gives his son a pointed look  when you finally come down to eat, yawning as you grab some cereal. Who has to watch his son turn and give you a quick peck on the lips, and then continue eating as if nothing happened. Has to watch you blink twice in surprise before shrugging and going back to your own food. 

Bf’s dad Clark who regrets telling his son to be more physical with you because he almost breaks a glass in his hands when he sees his son hugging you from behind one evening.

Bf's dad Clark, who clenches his jaw when you announce that you're going to leave and Jon jumps up to escort you, and walk you home. Clark who so badly wants to insist that he can take you home. That it's too cold out to walk, that a drive would be better. Clark who keeps his mouth shut instead.

Bf’s dad Clark who wants to curse Jon for inviting you over to their summer house. Clark who has to watch you walk around with your tiny bikini, skin still glistening when you get out of the pool. Clark who clenches his jaw tight and looks the other way when you offer to help Jon put some sunscreen on. 

Bf’s dad Clark who finds you in the kitchen that same night, swallowing hard as he watches you take a bite of a strawberry you were holding, claiming you were craving something sweet. 

Bf’s dad Clark who fucks you right against the counter you were leaning against, who has to hold his hand over your mouth as he circles his hips against you, his cock snug inside your tight cunt. Clark who melts when you give him an open-mouthed kiss, begging him to take you to bed. To his bed.

Bf’s dad Clark who can’t find himself worrying about the creaking of his bed when you’re riding him so well. Clark who hisses, and whose eyes roll back when you graze your nails against his pecs. Who has to fight the urge to bend you over and fuck you till you’re crying, has to remind himself that you’d definitely wouldn't be quiet then, when you’re barely keeping it together now. Clark who pulls you skin tight against him, who loves to feel your moans and whimpers against his lips.

Bf’s dad Clark, who wakes up the next day with you in his arms, swears he’d never slept so soundly in his life. Bf’s dad Clark who presses kisses all over your face, who later fucks you in the shower, and despite not wanting to ruin the moment, has to say something,

“Fuck, we can’t do this again. You’re dating my son, for God’s sake-”

“Clark. Jon is gay.”

oh.

2024 © l13 | Do not steal, copy, edit, translate or re-post any of my works.

[lokisgoodgirl]

Lies Like Liquid [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Loki's typical antics at a party hit different. (w/c 2.5k) Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Loki x Female reader. Snippy Loki/ enemies to lovers. Mild jealousy. Mild angst.

The crowd blurred as you wobbled on your heels towards the bar, trying to look casual. Rogers, Natasha, Clint—all of them with their heads thrown back at some perfectly timed joke while music thumped in your ears.

Loki leant against the polished marble counter—the soft amber bulbs around the mirror making his watchful eyes shine; immaculately tousled hair drifting down his shoulders.

He lifted a martini to his lips and sipped gently, the smoulder fixed on you.

One elbow rested on the bar, his ankles crossed, his body impossibly long and lean and wrapped in an expensive suit that was just the right side of tight. No tie tonight, just an open collar with a triangle of milky skin that you wanted to graze your teeth against as his eyes rolled back and a gurgle of your name choked from his throat—

Don’t talk to him. Don’t embarrass yourself. Don’t look at him; that’s what he wants. But your heart rattled faster as his cologne prickled deep inside your nostrils: warm, spiced, filthy.

“You look particularly agreeable tonight, Agent,” Loki said as you propped your elbows on the bar, eyeing your cleavage carefully in the mirror. The god’s stare traced your profile as intricately as though it were his fingers. “Did you do something with your hair? Wash it, perhaps?” “You’re one to talk, Agent,” you said, tongue lingering on the T.

Out of the corner of your eye, the god stiffened. He hated all that Agent stuff. Resented it. Except when he was curling the word around his own tongue, ready to spit in your directing with his dumb, mind-numbingly sexy voice—

“Nevertheless,” he said, strained, ‘that colour suits you.” “Black?” “Mmm.” “Everyone suits black.” Loki chuckled softly, sliding the base of his martini glass closer across the bar. His body followed. “Not so, Agent. In fact, my brother looks particularly ghastly. Deceased, in fact. You look rather…” “Yes?” Your breath hitched as Loki bent ever-so-slightly to your ear, heat skating down your cheek. “Hot,” he whispered, making one syllable stretch to two. A tingle rushed over your body. You turned fractionally just as the shit-eating, devastatingly attractive smirk spread across Loki’s lips. The one Stark used in the ad reels. The one that the public loved; and the one that you loathed—even if you did have a screenshot of it on your phone for masturbation purposes. Needs must. He might be a dickhead, but you had eyes.

“What do you want, Loki?”

He pressed a hand to his chest, wounded. “Want? Darling, you came to me.”

“I came for a drink—you were in the way. It’s the only way to numb you out.” His jaw dropped a touch, affronted, but those eyes sparkled. Crystal sang as he swirled the fancy glass against marble and leant back, the buttons of his shirt straining as he let out a small, harassed sigh. “You really must try one of these, they’re quite terrible.” The tightness in your chest loosened. “The Starktini?” “The Starktini,” he confirmed sombrely. “Sherry instead of vermouth, can you believe it? What is he thinking. All the money in the realm, and no class.”

He took another sip, draining the glass, observing you through narrowed eyes. “Another one, Mr Laufeyson?” Fresh lipstick, ruffled hair, apron tied too tight, shirt unbuttoned to the tip of fancy lingerie. You rolled your eyes as Loki swivelled to face the waitress. “Please,” he said, low and unbearably smooth. “And one for my friend here, too. Particularly dirty, if you don’t mind.” “Of course Sir; I know the way you like it,” she said huskily, sliding her eyes to yours. You cocked an eyebrow as she sashayed to the liquor bottles further down the bar. “Particularly dirty?” you hissed. “Are you kidding me?” “Are you jealous?” Anger scorched up your spine. How dare he—standing there with his stupid, devastating cheekbones and muscles shifting beneath his shirt as he plucked the stem of a fresh glass from the waitress’s hand. Your eyes flickered to a small piece of paper stuck to the bottom, several looping numbers visible. Loki winked lightly at her as she moved to a pissed off looking Barton, peeling the paper off. “I’ll leave the two of you to…” You gestured in the air.

Loki straightened, swallowing hastily. He raised a finger, his brows rising. But you were already several steps deep into the crowd, pushing past a tipsy Rogers dancing the Macarena to a Scissor Sisters song. The bodice of your dress felt unbearably tight, party smoke clinging to the back of your throat like ash and making your eyes sting. A hand cupped your bicep. “You alright?” Wanda dipped, catching your eyes. You waved a hand, plastering on a smile. “Fine. I’m fine, just Loki being a—” “A delight, I’m sure,” Loki drawled. Even over the music, his voice was clear as glass. Wanda’s face scrunched, her gaze shifting over your shoulder. You whipped around, hoping your tits hadn’t shifted from the impeccable cleavage you’d assembled earlier. “Let me guess, this is the part of the dancefloor you want? Planning on standing here yourself, glowering at everyone having fun?”

Loki frowned, and for a moment, just one, you felt a sharp stab of guilt. He placed the martini glass on a small, round table to his left.

“Actually,” he said, unbuttoning a cuff and folding it up to the elbow. “I was going to ask if you wanted to dance.” Behind you, Wanda gasped. Loki Laufeyson did not dance. And certainly not with you.

There were many things you could say at this moment, do, in this moment while Loki Laufeyson folded the second sleeve up his muscled forearm up with skilful ease. Tell him to fuck off, give him the middle finger, laugh at him before he could laugh at you. Seconds shifted as you waited for the familiar smirk, but it didn’t come. He extended his hand.

Loki’s chin lowered, his eyes glimmering in light refracted from the disco ball, the hand cupped outward unmoving. And so, you took it. Wanda gasped again.

Loki’s thumb slid up your palm, pressing into the soft skin before guiding you gently across the dancefloor. Bodies moved, the room blurred for the second time that evening, but this time, a flutter rose in your belly as Loki turned and pulled you flush to his chest. Your cheek brushed his, hands knotted at his shoulder as the opening beats of Rosenfeld thumped through the speakers. Eyes sliding to Loki’s, you tried to stifle the urge to suck against his neck; absorb the deep scent of him that wafted from beneath his collar.

He began to sway. And then, his lips brushed your ear. “Move, Agent,” he said, deep and utterly filthy. Loki’s knuckles trailed down your spine, palm settling on your lower back and shifting in time with the grind of your hips. His hair grazed against your cheek as your bodies slid together, the satin of your dress water against his shirt. The world slid beneath you feet as Loki pushed you outwards, spinning on your heels, stars bursting in your mind. He pulled you to his chest with a soft thump and the muscle beneath your breasts shook under his chuckle. “I thought you couldn't dance—” “I can do anything, Agent,” he murmured, hands resting on your hips. His eyes narrowed lightly. “Anything.” You snorted, blowing a strand of his hair with it. It floated back, sticking to your mouth. Loki’s fingers slipped between you, pinching it away. His thumb grazed over the plump of your lower lip. “Do you believe me?” It struck you in this moment how inconceivable it was that Loki was grinding against your stomach; that you were shifting in time with it, your hips swaying against the hard expanse of his hips. That you hadn’t punched him in the face yet.

“I believe that you’re full of shit? Does that count?” You half-hoped he couldn’t hear you, but the twitch of Loki’s lips proved he did. God, you wanted to slam your pussy down on the meat of the thigh sliding against your leg. You wanted to yank his hair down and kiss him right on his poisonous mouth as he pushed his femur against your clit; edging you into a shuddering mess hanging in his arms like a doll. A warm flush slid between your legs.

Loki spun to the side, and the world upended. He’d swept you into a dip, his face inches from yours, and his eyes rising slowly from your lips to your eyes. Somewhere, Rogers whooped.

And there it was…the shit eating smirk.

You snapped to reality, pushing against Loki’s shoulder. He brought you upright with a deep crease slicing through his forehead and mumbled something as you pushed through the crowd, Do It For Me ringing in your ears.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You grabbed a Starktini from the bar, necking it and ignoring Barton’s yelling before making your way to the fire exit. The balcony was too crowded. Cold air hit like a slap, rippling over your bare shoulders and up the flounce of skirt. Your fingers curled against the fire escape, forehead resting against your hands. Fuck. You’d let him get under your skin. You’d promised it wouldn’t happen again.

“I lied.” Your ankle gave way, heel snapping through the grate and sending you wavering to the guard rail. Suddenly Loki’s arms were around you, but you flapped him away. “Piss off, Loki,” you gasped, gripping the rail. “I’m fine. Jesus…you scared the shit out of me.” The angles of Loki’s face were illuminated in moonlight: brows lowered; mouth drawn tight. You sighed. “What do you want?” “I lied,” he said again. Now you remembered. “Well, what’s new? It’s your thing.” He frowned. “Well, it is,” you said, exasperated. “Never with you.” His eyes were a storm of wretched midnights, but his jaw trembled. You noted the strain of his shirt buttons, the creases forming with each deep, measured breath. A tremor passed through his features as he said. “Before, when I said I could do anything—I lied.” “Oh?” “I couldn’t hold on to you.” Your heart dropped somewhere around your knees. “Well, yeah, I guess. It was about more than just the dancing though, you know that, right?” “Mmm.”

In the time it took to look up, Loki was standing in front of you; the heat from his chest radiating the space between your bodies. He licked his lips, and they shaped words you never thought you’d hear. “Is it too late for us?” he asked softly.

“Loki…” “A month is a long time to spend with only one’s thoughts for company.” “Hardly. You were on a mission with Barton and Lang.” “Mentally alone, if not physically. You should hear the things they consider stimulating conversation. Do you know what a blumpkin entails?” He waited, a shadow flitting across his face. “Because I do.” You bit your lip, chest shaking with ill-advised laughter, and when you looked up, Loki’s smile was waiting. The real one. And then, your throat tightened. “You took the waitress’s number.” “Did I?” Loki’s voice went up an octave. “How strange,” he mused as a long finger tapped at his chin. “I distinctly remember not taking her number. In fact, I believe it might still be on the bar. Perhaps Lang will find it—perhaps he’ll finally experience the blumpkin he seeks.” “You winked at her.”

Something shifted inside you as the words shaped your tongue; thin threads of hope winding snug around your insides, the lie of your indifference circling like liquid down a drain. Loki shrugged lightly. “I had to give her something. What was I to do? The woman was clearly smitten—and I’m nothing if not benevolent.”

You rolled your eyes again. “Don’t…” he said, stepping closer.

One arm rose against the wall behind you, his skin silver in moonlight. “You know how that drives me to the brink of sanity.” “Maybe that’s what I want.” “Is it?” His eyes flashed, gaze dropping to your lips. “Well, it’s working.” Your chest ached with the effort of holding in the need to hyperventilate. This was everything you’d wanted as you lay in bed alone, everything you hadn’t dared hope for. That he would fight for you. And yet…With Loki, there was always an ‘And yet’.

But tonight, you didn’t want to think about that. Not yet.

Like a dream, you fingered the open collar of Loki’s shirt, grazing a nail across the exposed skin. He shivered. “Darling,” he whispered, and then, your lips were on his. One kiss slipped into the next like words, the groans deep in his throat and the fingers winding in your hair like blazing starlight. “Up, up,” you gasped between kisses.

Loki obliged, large hands dipping to your thighs and hoisting you against the polished outer walls of Stark Tower with a squeak. He fumbled with the line of your underwear, a mumbled fuck it preceding the warm fizz of his magic against your skin. Your fingers ripped at the buttons of his suit trousers, delving for the unbearably hard cock pressing against your cunt. Every vein, every velvet ridge, every inch that made him whimper when you traced it with your tongue. Loki’s breath was heavy, misting against your cheek as he breached with a broken chant of your name. Your head fell back against the wall, his mouth working down the valley of your throat as his hips rolled, filling you. “Loki, god…yes,” you panted to the darkened sky. He mumbled something unintelligible against your skin as your fingers twisted in his hair and the part of yourself that hoped this could be real burned brighter. There was nothing but here—nothing but the press of his flat stomach, the feel of his fingertips curling into your thighs and the seal of his cock unwinding your doubts with every thrust.

“Gods, I never meant to—” You silenced him with a kiss, delving into him with insatiable hunger. I never meant to push you away. I never meant to break your heart. It could wait. Orgasm sparked deep in your belly, rippling like a lit match from gasoline. Your legs tightened around his hips, forcing his cock deeper with an obscene squelch. “Faen, kvinne,” Loki grunted, one palm flying to the wall behind you and squeaking down metal. He bucked up, bottoming out a final, shattering time. Climax ripped through your body like a knife through leather, arms flying around his neck and pulling him close. His belt buckle was ice against your heated thighs, the grind of his hips flattening you to the wall. The god’s groans grew tight; urgent, something new stringing along his back muscles shifting under the drag of your fingernails. “Forgive me,” he sighed. You wondered if he’d stop himself tumbling over the edge if you didn’t. But the time for lies was over. “I forgive you,” you whispered, sucking his earlobe between your teeth. Loki’s guttural groan as he filled you with his cum was the world sliding beneath your feet, breaking apart and starting anew.

Tags in comments ❤️

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #27

They’re the strongest?!?!

Imagine dis…

You know … I read too much humans are space orcs fic, prompts, ideas… etc.

But I still like Danny Phantom and DC…

And I remember that one A03 fic…

…

Another alien invasion is another Wednesday for the JL but it seems like they are quite different. Not only they are known as invaders in the Green Lantern Corps but they also have some sort of code among warriors, they give a chance to the species they are invading to fight back. By having their strongest fight against their strongest. It is not through fighting to the death as different planets have different climates and terrains and thus have their version of the Olympic games but instead of rewarding the participants medals, they were rewarded their planet's safety, but Hal commented that the challenges are too staged, too well known to the invading aliens. Since the ones defending have no idea how to approach the challenges, they always end up losing. Green Arrow commented that since they can just send out the Big Blue boy scout, Hal shook his head as they have to be the same species one planet already tried it by asking aid from another planet and not only lost but the invading aliens got 2 planets, plus they’ll bring it up to the galaxy court system and put them in a tight spot. Of course, Aquaman blinked with confusion and asked if there was a court system for the galaxy.

…

So of course, when the said invading aliens landed on the Milky Way and broadcasted their intentions. The JL already have a team to fight them, of course, we have Batman with his cunning mind, Wonder Woman for her chivalry and strength, Flash for his speed, Doctor Fate for his mastery of magic, and Cyborg for technological skills. Just as they were about to tell the invading aliens that they had already picked their strongest, another announcement popped out. Apparently to even out the playing field they have a new technology to help them pick out their strongest for them. As if they were talking to kids and promptly pressed the bottom to automatically select the earth’s strongest.

The heroes at the space station as well those around the world who were debriefed about the situation a week before are already bracing themselves to be picked, while the citizens around the globe are all now watching and anticipating as not only this a new thing as the majority of their alien invasion they immediately went to evacuation.

Who appeared/ chosen immediately made both sides' jaws drop….

Three?

Only three are chosen…

An adult, a teen, and a child?

A man who wore a blue rental suit with glasses, blue eyes and black hair. Which the Metropolis recognizes as one of their own. Clark Kent, a reporter with fame and reputation on par with the famed Lois Lane. The ideal model of someone who came from the countryside and made a name and life in the big city.

An 11-year-old boy with blue eyes and black hair who wore a red hoodie, faded jeans, and red shoes, in which the city Fawcett knew of. Billy Batson was, a former foster kid on the run until he found his forever home with the couple named Victor and Rosa Vasquez who also fostered a couple of kids, which Billy claims as his siblings. A kind kid who kept doing good around him and his community.

Lastly, a teen, again with blue eyes and black hair wore a faded NASA hoodie, and blue jeans with faint eye bags which was a small town in Amity Park where he came from. Danny Fenton, the only son of the two leading scientists of ecto-biologists in ecotology, the one who realized that one of the two purple-back gorillas is a female thus avoiding extinction.

…

Clark Kent by day and Superman by night knew about the invading aliens. He also knew that he could not participate despite being raised on Earth made him unqualified to join. So, imagine his shock when he suddenly found himself with two earth children in the middle of a large arena with futuristic cameras looking at them. He is now in an internal dilemma; how can he save the two kids, while he tries to save Earth altogether?

This train of thought also passed by the young Billy Batson on the said teen, Billy already knew that Superman was already thinking of saving the both of them. Now his priority is to survive and keep his secret ID a secret for a bit longer.

…

Danny on the other hand has a completely different train of thought, he was just about to reach his room. His beautiful room where his bed is, he had just finished a four-hour exam to bring his grades back up to an acceptable level, 9 continuous ghost attacks, another nonsense quarrel between the observers and he is close to committing anarchy just so he can have the same treatment to Pariah Dark, an eternal sleep in a comfortable looking Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep.

So imagine his surprise when he is suddenly teleported to what looks like an alien ship, Danny would usually be ecstatic but they have interrupted him, he is so close to his bed. He knew that there would be some sort of an invasion as he remembered the bits and pieces from Tucker’s ramble when they last hung out together.

He doesn’t care if aliens invade Earth, but if you come between him and his bed. He will make sure of what he will do to those who disturb him, he will make his fight with his future self and Pariah Dark like child’s play.

…

The Justice League kept on insisting that they had already chosen their fighters and those who appeared in the middle of their arena were civilians, not warriors. But the invading aliens stayed on their decision and immediately began the games.

The rest of the heroes are now scrambling to not only stop the invading aliens but also save the 2 civilians who were randomly selected.

While the rest of the League is now panicking the rest of the world is now in an outrage. Sending out a civilian man and children by the alien's weird machinery.

The Fenton couples are especially rabid as, if there is anything that tops their ghost obsession, it would be their children’s safety. The family of Batson are on the edge of their seats as they worry for Billy.

…

The games begin with an opening of rules and such, as well as an introduction to the alien’s warriors who are big and full of muscles making the Earth team look so tiny.

The first game starts with a simple hunting game with very minimal clues and tools at their disposal to find what they seek. Clark can crack the code on to where to hunt but it is a dangerous environment, Clark discusses it with his teammates on how to catch it, Clark is already thinking if he should reveal himself as a meta with strength but Danny just glares at the man and grabbed capturing tools form the table and sought out the thing they are designated to hunt.

The other team took a glance at Team Earth and warbled some snickers at how they took looking/hunting too fast without any plans and went back to their planning.

Clark and Billy are worried for their other teammate but after a few minutes, they hear a roar some shuffles, and then silence.

Back on earth, most people are horrified a what could be the teen’s fate but when footsteps were heard they saw the teen again scathed, with a few scratches, and a hulking beast all tied up from its muzzle to its tails.

Clark nervously asked, still maintaining his civilian identity, how on earth Danny had caught such a beast. Danny’s only response was, back from where he came a certain ”friend” really wanted “someone’s” pelt on a wall and learned some things while HE was chasing that “something”.

That starts the Danny effect…

…

A tag sort of game as there is a hunter to hunt them down and their objective is to hide longer than the other team, with both Billy and Danny a part, while Billy lasted a few hours with his wit and skills that he honed during his time when he ran from CPS and the police during his days as a foster child, which is impressive itself as he got two of the other team’s members to be captured first before him. Danny outlasted Billy and the rest of the other team won the game in a landslide and gained some bonus points by not only redirecting the hunter and leading them into a false trail or a dead end but also messing with the said hunter without being spotted by him.

Cooking with live and weird ingredients? Clark initially volunteered to do it as he has a stomach of steel being an alien but cannot cook as he has no idea which ingredient is edible as all alien dishes and ingredients come from Krypton and he has to impress the judges who put them in a disadvantage as the judges are from the same race as the opposing team. Danny just shook his head at Clark quickly put on an apron and set to work.

Clark and Billy immediately turned green at the sight as Danny nonchalantly battled the live ingredients, from the meat section to what seems to be the fruit and vegetable section, It is bloody as it is and quite fascinating as it is disgusting. All their years in the Justice League they have seen some twisted and weird things but seeing their third teammate casually stab what looked like an unholy cross hybrid between an octopus and a shark trying to crawl away from the carnage, cleaned the weird animal from the inside out and fillet it.

Of course, they are in disbelief when the judges practically moan the moment, they taste Danny’s dish. Clark and Billy are pretty sure one of the judges is planning to spare Danny and turn him into their chef if the invasion continues, with the way they look at Danny. The judges reluctantly let Danny’s dish win.

Billy reluctantly asked Danny where he learned to cook like that, Danny’s only response was a grumble of a sound that seemed to sound like at home but that cannot be, right?

Trying to survive an onslaught of hypnotic plants native to the alien’s home world, Danny once again won and even began criticizing the plants for how their music was so horrible that it would not even wake the dead.

Play some sort of FIGHTING VIDEO GAME that is popular in 5 sectors in their part of the galaxy, Danny wins and repeatedly shoots the aliens with pure hatred and anger in his eyes, Clark has to physically drag Danny out of the arena to stop his onslaught of firing to the poor guy who was already on the verge of crying.

And so on with the Earth’s team leading COUGH Danny COUGH and demolishing the invading aliens from their games.

After a while the games are done and Team Earth wins with a massive gap to the invading aliens. They returned the three in the middle of the Metropolis and went away without so much a fuss…

Well, expect that one chef in their midst how begged the leader to take Danny and only him with them but the leader is already fearing for his life as the last few games that humans began to be more feral by the second and he was sure he is also a second away from being the one at the other end of his chopping board.

…

Back on earth everyone cheered on the three and began flashing them their camera lights to get a new scoop, and one brave reporter even tried to interview Danny but when people tried to look for the elusive teen he seemingly disappeared.

Clark knew Danny was, sleeping peacefully in the middle of the bushes a few feet away from them, and kept quiet as he was late to realize that Danny was on the verge of a crash like Red Robin is when he pulled something like this when Conner invited him.

…

PS: If someone out there wanted to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

[hyunsvngs]

𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐭𝐰𝐨, 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 - frat au!lee minho & yang jeongin x fem!reader

wc: 3.4k

cw: some boy x boy action/poly dynamics, watersports, pwp but with the tiniest inkling of plot, minho and jeongin are wearing saltburn-esque costumes, SMUT MDNI

a/n: return to writing possibly with this commission for @leeknow-thoughts that is actually just filth.. probably the filthiest thing i've ever written. THIS CONTAINS PISS !! so please be warned!! if you don't like it, don't read it :)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: not quite detailed but all 3 characters are tipsy/slightly intoxicated, pain play, nipple play, mommy/daddy kink, bunny reader as in she’s dressed as a bunny, eiffel tower, face fucking, threesome,

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“they’re staring again.”

seungmin speaks as if it’s fact, truth, sworn by the gods, and maybe it is. his hands come to fix the bunny ears perched on your head, perfectly folding one ear, before they slide down and rest on your shoulders. 

“go and talk to them.”

“no,” you say, determined, because you’ll be damned if you’re starting a conversation with them first. minho and jeongin look at you every damn party. the two football players are practically fixated on you, despite the fact that you’ve barely said a few words to eachother, and jisung’s new years bash was obviously not going to be any different. “they’re not staring. maybe they’re just… lost in thought. dissociating.”

except when you look at them, across the living room of the frat’s way too large house, they are looking directly at you. jeongin’s white tank top is tight on his body, and you have to force yourself not to stare. both him and minho are dressed in some saltburn-esque costumes tonight; jeongin’s got two golden wings encasing his body, and minho’s wearing two horns on his head to match, blazer open and displaying an expanse of milky skin across his chest and stomach. jeongin leans over to say something to minho, and you see his tummy quiver as he laughs.

you’re trying not to look at minho altogether, actually. his eyes narrow upon seeing you returning his stare, and he licks his lips, predatory. realistically, you’ve never wanted anything more than you want those two men, and your fantasies actually tend to go a lot further than people would think. perhaps they even delve into the realm of something domestic, your thoughts even revolving around a relationship between the three of you, but you’d never admit that.  

“i’m not watching you play a sexy little game of cat and mouse all night,” seungmin huffs, rolling his eyes, but you know he’s invested. if anything did happen, he’d beg for the details. “frat boys don’t get lost in thought. i don’t think they have the capacity to think.” 

the baseball jersey on his back swamps his frame and billows as he walks away to find a drink, before you can protest that seungmin is a frat boy himself. you’re left with your own company and whatever concoction felix handed to you when you walked in.

you turn back to stare. you sip the drink and stare at the emptiness of the room. minho and jeongin are gone. you hear the distant laughter of the other frat boys in a different room, but you can't bring yourself to envy them. you take a deep breath and remind yourself that you can make your own way, without giving into the temptation of those two football players.  

it’s all looking good until you turn to find seungmin, and jeongin is suddenly in front of you, eyes fixated upon your figure. it makes you jump, and the presence of another body behind you encroaches into your personal space. 

“are you finally going to come to bed with us tonight?” minho’s tone is level, firm. you bristle like a frightened cat, body seizing up, hand tightening on your glass. his hand comes up to grip your jaw, forcing you to turn and look at him. the horns on his head make him look devilish, sinful. his lips stretch into a smile, but it’s fake. “don’t be scared of me, little bunny. i’m not going to hurt you.”

“he will,” jeongin’s at your front all of a sudden, that damned tank top highlighting everything you’re trying hard not to look at. two golden wings encompass you, sheltering you into this little bubble of you, jeongin and minho, unable to see anything beyond two firm bodies. jeongin smirks, tongue licking over his teeth. it’s awfully predatory, and you do feel like a little bunny - except you’re caught between two big bad wolves. he knows you feel cornered. it was his plan, if anything. “i’ll hurt you too, if that’s what you want?”

god, yes. you do. the acts of dominance have your thighs squeezing together, and you lick your lips before gulping nervously.

“it’s. uh- you’re-”

jeongin raises his eyebrows. he looks at you, then to minho, then smiles, scrunching his nose.

“don’t be nervous,” he murmurs, hand smoothing down the side of your skimpy little bodysuit. you’re feeling quite exposed, legs clad in fishnets and stupid bunny tail perched above your ass - minho squeezes it as if to remind you that it’s there. “it’s just us. you do want us, right?”

you’re fumbling the moment. minho’s quiet for now, but you hear him hum, questioning. you have to will yourself to speak, to admit that yeah, you have been staring back for so damn long and yes, you do want them. 

“sometimes i want you so bad it hurts.”

“then it’s settled, bunny. you’ll meet us upstairs in five?” jeongin’s thumb swipes over your bottom lip, and you bounce in your sneakers, way too excited. is this real? is this actually happening? you realise he’s waiting for a response, an expectant expression crossing his face, and you nod. 

“i’ll meet you upstairs in five.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

as soon as the bedroom door shuts minho’s got you pinned against the wall. you assumed he’d be the one taking control, and you hear jeongin walk over to the double bed in the middle of the room. he’s fumbling with the sheets, but you can’t hear anything over the sound of your ears ringing - minho presses his lips to yours, chaste and sweet. 

“let me know if i’m going too fast,” another kiss, this time a little longer. you chase his lips with yours when he pulls away, and he giggles softly, eyes scrunching with his smile. one of his hands comes down to squeeze your bunny tail again. “we don’t have to do anything at all. we can just talk, get to know eachother-”

whether it’s the liquid courage in your blood or not, you kiss him again, murmuring against his mouth. “i want you both. i’ve wanted you both for so long, you have to have known.”

jeongin is next to you again, kissing your neck. you’re too involved with minho to notice, finally, finally getting to kiss him properly, tongue darting into his mouth. he lets you, but as soon as it gets overeager, he’s pinning you back to dominate your lips again. his lips are thick, domineering, and the presence of jeongin’s breath on your skin ensures that you don’t forget that you’re inbetween your two dream men. 

when minho pulls away with a sharp nip to your bottom lip, you’re gasping. “you- you guys want me too?”

“we made that clear,” jeongin grunts. minho’s horns tickle your neck when he leans down to bite at your collarbone. you’re too exposed, despite being clothed, and you allow jeongin to coax you both over to the bed. you think this is jeongin’s room, judging by the weed paraphernalia on his dresser and the pictures of him and minho on the wall. it almost feels a little invasive to be in here, only knowing what seungmin has told you about the two, but they seem to be along the lines of fuck now, think later.

once you reach the bed, the motions are blurry. jeongin sprawls across his sheets, long limbs splayed and erection way too prominent in his black jeans, and minho pushes you onto the mattress. he’s rougher yet clearly the one in control, and it makes you worry for what jeongin’s got in store. the latter pulls you by the waist on top of him, settling you right over his erection, and minho’s behind you again. you realise he likes to be behind you, and whether or not that’s to keep his view of your ass, you’re unsure - but he leans down and nips at the exposed skin of your asscheek, making you jolt with a squeal, landing fully on top of jeongin this time.

the elder of the two is speaking before you can recollect yourself. “i mean, there’s obviously a connection here, right?” minho murmurs, one digit hooking under the strap of your black bodysuit. he drags it down your shoulder, and jeongin’s eyes follow it, his body shuffling beneath you.  “we stare at you. you stare back. we know you talk about us. we want each other.”

“w-we do,” you grind on jeongin’s bulge. his blush spreads to his neck, bright pink, displaying his arousal. his jeans are tight on his crotch and it looks painful - you want to rid him of his confines, but minho’s little fingers finally pull your bodysuit cup down and tweak your nipple. you’re braless underneath the bodysuit - there was no other way - and the cold air has your back arching. 

jeongin’s hands are insistent. with still-wet lips, his fingers reach down to unclip your bodysuit, and he’s quickly ripping your fishnets open to get to your core. you’re jostled around on top of him, and minho’s fingertips are rough over both of your nipples. 

“what will you let us do to you?” jeongin questions. his breath is heavy, and he finally manages to shove your underwear out of the way. it’s messy, too fast, but your pussy is accepting when he slides two long fingers into your hole. you whine at the intrusion, and minho’s thumbnail scrapes over your areola, causing ripples of pain to make you shout. “can we do anything we want to you?”

“a-anything, you can do anything,” moaning, you will yourself to speak, and it doesn’t cross your mind that they might really take you up on it. minho’s teeth sink into your neck, and his hands move to rip your bodysuit off of your head. once you’re naked, save for the ripped fishnets and panties shoved to the side, jeongin finally starts to move his fingers inside of you. the feeling drives you insane, the way he’s so deep it has your thighs trembling around his hips, and minho groans at the sight.

“anything? really?” he begins, and you want to take it back, but his fingers pinch your clit. your thighs clench sharply around jeongin, and you can’t help but keen. “what if mommy and daddy wanted to piss on you, baby, huh? is that still okay?”

mommy and daddy? your head spins.

“f-fuck, minho, oh my god,” you clench your eyes shut, hand gripping jeongin’s wrist. minho’s hands move back to your tits, jiggling the flesh in his hands before pinching down on your nipples to the point you’re wailing, hips bucking into jeongin. his fingers speed up. they want an answer. “yes! yes, you can, iyennie, daddy, you can piss on me. mommy, you too, i’m yours, i’m your bunny.”

“lean forward,” minho instructs, so you do. your tits are level with jeongin’s face and he leans up to suck on a nipple blindly, cheeks crimson. his fingers still pump inside of you, but his wrist is shoved away by minho, who presses the blunt tip of his cock against your hole as soon as it’s empty. it’s all too fast, too intense, but you moan and reach back to spread your asscheeks for him regardless. minho groans. “fuck, i can’t wait. i’m gonna piss inside you, dirty little bunny. are you gonna take it for me?”

“i-i’ll take it, i’ll take it,” you babble, and your eyes settle on jeongin. his hair is mussed, and you use it to pull his head back, facing you. you catch his lips with yours before minho pushes in, and you whine at the stretch. it’s too much, even with jeongin’s fingers inside of you stretching you beforehand, and you wish you’d caught sight of his cock before. you’ll just have to hope this happens again. “iyennie, daddy, will you- will you do it too?”

“i’m not fuckin’ you this time, bunny, minho-hyung said so,” jeongin says quietly, and he sounds almost embarrassed. you realise it was all planned out at the same time minho starts moving, cock thrusting into you steadily, and you can only moan incoherently. jeongin coos, fingers repositioning your bunny ears as they start to jostle out of place. “‘s that nice? it’s big, right?”

“s-so big, so big, mommy-”

“pussy’s so fucking wet,” minho groans, and you just about manage to turn to see him. jeongin helps you, hand positioned on your jaw, and you catch sight of minho fucking his cock inside of you. his pubes are already wet with your essence, and once his eyes see you looking back at him, those bunny teeth bite into his bottom lip sharply. “you want it? i’m gonna piss inside y-you, bun, you want it deep?”

“feels so good inside, bunny, minho-hyung did it to me before,” jeongin’s whispering, but you can hear him clearly, and the realisation that they’ve fucked before is enough to do you in. your pussy clenches down, and you’re cumming before you can think about it, hole creaming over minho’s thick, thick cock. minho chuckles victoriously, and jeongin groans, shoving you down by your shoulders to wrench himself out from underneath you. he unbuttons his jeans and shoves them down to his thighs, tugging his cock out from his boxers to pump his shaft to the sight of you and minho together. minho fucks you harder once jeongin’s pulled his cock out, not unnoticed by you. “i-is that hot? that we’ve fucked before?”

“y-yes! god, i wanna- i wanna watch it, and- and i wanna play, too, all the time, will you let me? will you- fuck, mommy, daddy, mommy, please piss inside my p-pussy!”

“dirty bitch,” minho mumbles, palm smacking your ass. “daddy, fuck her mouth. keep her quiet.”

jeongin’s hand tightens around the base of his shaft, and he forces it past your lips. you open your mouth obediently and let him inside, mouth stretching around his girth. minho thrusts once, twice, and then he’s pressing in deep to let go - you feel the wetness of his piss inside of you, and you groan around jeongin, encouraging him to fuck into your mouth steadily. he only fucks inside a few times before he’s groaning and pulling out with a hiss. 

“m-maybe i’ll- hyung, can i? i need to go too, i wanna- on her tits, hyung, can i?”

“yeah, fuck- let me fucking see it, iyennie. show hyung.”

you’re wrenched upwards again by minho’s fist in your hair, forced to take his cock while he pulls your back against his chest. it’s deep, so overwhelming that all you can do is cry out and take, take, take, your pussy squelching with the mess. you pray for jeongin’s sheets, especially when he aims his cockhead at your tits and finally lets go, cock spurting piss over your skin. 

you can feel minho’s gaze burning, his hand coming up to rub the liquid into you, pinching your nipples on the way. you’re fully limp, head floaty and still so fucking horny. minho fucks into you, rough and debauched, and then you’re empty, falling forward if not for jeongin holding you up.

“i’m gonna cum- oh fuck, oh fuck, i’m gonna cum, bunny, stay still,” minho’s cock is drenched from your pussy and the liquid he filled you with, and you want to suck it, but you’re wrenched backwards by your hair. minho pumps his cock erratically, thick shaft filling his small hand until he releases all over your tits. you feel like a mess, debauched, and jeongin’s moaning so loud you know that if the music was any quieter everyone would know what you three are up to. 

jeongin fucks into his fist again, and minho flops next to him, chest flushed beneath that open blazer. you realise you’re all still relatively clothed, jeongin’s tank top and wings still on his body and jeans only just shoved down. his cock leaks precum on his clothes as he pumps it, still hard despite pissing all over you. minho pulls you down next to him. 

“you need to get inside, iyennie.”

“hyung, you said-”

“i don’t care, feels too good. you need to feel it.”

it’s a simple statement and you’re fucked too dumb to consider anything, thighs only spreading apart for jeongin to settle in between them. jeongin’s cock isn’t as thick as minho’s but god is it long, and it presses into your cervix as soon as he sinks inside with a sharp grunt. his hair hangs over his face as he repositions you, bending your limp legs back to your chest, making the angle so much deeper. tears bite at your eyes. 

“‘s so much, it’s- fuck, daddy, does it feel good?” you mumble, licking over dry lips, and minho strokes over your cheek fondly. jeongin fucks into you, pace picking up, and you’ve almost forgotten about the cum and piss all over your tits until his tongue starts to lick at your skin. 

“fuck, that’s filthy, iyennie,” minho groans, hand pushing jeongin’s hair back from his face. you can see him better like this, and you keen, hands gripping on the sheets beneath you. your pussy feels raw, abused, but his incessant thrusts have you barrelling towards your second orgasm. “c’mere, give me a kiss, baby.”

you think minho’s talking to you, but his lips connect with jeongin’s. you can see their tongues messily sliding over eachother’s, an open mouthed, spit-filled kiss. you’re nearly there, orgasm just in sight, but jeongin fucks inside of you a few more times until you feel him spilling his cum inside of you, moaning against minho’s mouth. 

you let out a loud disappointed whine, and minho turns to face you. while there’s a playful look in his eyes, you know that he feels somewhat sorry for you, and he ushers jeongin to pull out and leave you spread in front of them. the younger’s cum drips out of your hole, and jeongin places a sweet kiss on your clit before moving out of the way. 

minho’s shoulders are so broad that you have to spread your legs wider to let him in. he settles between your thighs, and then his lips latch around your clit. he’s impatient, suckling loud and wet to make you cry out, and when his tongue dips down to collect the cum from your hole you reach out to grip onto jeongin.

“that’s it, ‘s that nice?” jeongin murmurs, lips brushing against your cheek. he’s spent, but he still holds you close to him, letting you ride out the pleasure minho’s making you feel. “he loves eating cum. he’s a slut for it, honestly.”

minho moans against you, little hands coming to pull your core closer to his mouth. it’s when minho’s teeth brush over your clit that you jolt, hand gripping onto his dark head of hair, and then you’re cumming, shrieking and squealing through the most pleasurable thing you’ve felt in your life. it lasts longer than the last one, pleasure biting at your spine like electricity. 

when you come to, you’re resting on jeongin’s chest while minho rolls a joint. despite being preoccupied, the latter isn’t far away, his legs slung over yours on the bed. you’re pretty sure the sheets have been changed, and you’re relatively clean, wearing an oversized t-shirt and joggers that must belong to one of the two, or both. 

“so,” you croak, stretching your arms above your head. you try to clear your throat, and jeongin laughs, running the back of his knuckles over your exposed arms. minho perks up at the sound of your voice, and smiles when he sees you’re lucid, wearing nothing but his boxers and a hoodie. his thighs are thick and exposed, and you can’t help your gaze from running over them. “am i the only one who napped?”

“yeah, we got you cleaned up while you passed out,” jeongin informs, and you hum, nodding. when you turn to him he looks shy, cheeks pink, and he scrunches his nose up before speaking again. “you don’t… regret anything, right? we went a little hard for the first time together.”

first time? meaning there’ll be more? you grin, shaking your head. “it was perfect. i like it like that, for future reference.”

“i could tell,” minho quips, and you giggle. “are you wanting to smoke with us now that you’re awake? the party’s over, by the way.”

you blink, sitting up. “minho, i slept through the whole party? where’s seungmin and felix?”

“asleep in their rooms,” he fiddles with the rolling paper, raising an eyebrow. “are you telling me you’re not happy to be here?”

it's a rhetorical question - he knows you are, you're sated and fucked and laying there with a grin on your face.

“oh no, no,” you correct, laying back onto jeongin’s chest. he lets out a purr, something akin to a cat. “this is where i’m meant to be, i’m sure of it.”

[burnforyou]

LUIGI MANGIONE AS A DAD...

DAD!LUIGI MANGIONE who had to reverse his vasectomy when you begged him to cum inside you. before you got married, you two were always careful, either wearing condoms or pulling out. he knew you were deathly afraid of out-of-wedlock pregnancy, so he chose to get a vasectomy just to be safe. until your honeymoon, when you begged him to cum inside you, to breed you, for the first time. it felt like his wet dreams were coming true.

DAD!LUIGI MANGIONE who purchased your house (with cash btw!!!) as a wedding gift with a few extra bedrooms in hope they’d be filled with children in the next few years.

DAD!LUIGI MANGIONE who cried when you told him you were pregnant. he’s been dreaming of getting you pregnant and having his own family for a long time.

DAD!LUIGI MANGIONE who secretly started reading books about pregnancy and raising a child, wanting to be the best father and husband he can be.

DAD!LUIGI MANGIONE who was already very protective of you, but he became ten times worse after you became pregnant, feeling responsible for you and the baby.

DAD!LUIGI MANGIONE who caters to all your weird pregnancy cravings/desires, even if that means trying gas station pizza with pickles on it at 1 am.

DAD!LUIGI MANGIONE who does all he can do to help you during your pregnancy. even if that means holding your hair back while you throw up. when you have mood swings, it starts to annoy you how much he's all over you, trying to help you and worrying about you all the time.

DAD!LUIGI MANGIONE who has to be touching, kissing, or talking to your belly at all times.

DAD!LUIGI MANGIONE who had his sister set up your private gender reveal with a cake and wine glasses.

DAD!LUIGI MANGIONE who attends all of your doctors appointments and takes notes.

DAD!LUIGI MANGIONE who keeps a copy of your ultrasound photos in his wallet.

DAD!LUIGI MANGIONE who was crying the whole time you were giving birth, so overwhelmed with emotion. he tried to hold it together for you, but he couldn't. he was so scared for you. he tried his hardest to help you out, staying by your side the whole time. but he was also so happy at the same time, so full of pride for you. he was in utter disbelief of your strength.

DAD!LUIGI MANGIONE who worries about you and the baby all day while he’s at work, texting you at least once an hour asking for photos of what you’re doing.

DAD!LUIGI MANGIONE who wakes up every single time your baby cries at night and never complains. he knows you’re exhausted and makes sure you get the sleep you need.

DAD!LUIGI MANGIONE who just stopped by the grocery store on the way home to pick up some snacks when he sees the most adorable outfit for your baby, that he has to buy.

DAD!LUIGI MANGIONE who built all the furniture for your baby’s nursery. you two painted the walls a bright blue together.

DAD!LUIGI MANGIONE who reads bedtime stories to your little daughter every night.

DAD!LUIGI MANGIONE who rests his head on your chest in bed at night, appreciating how much they’ve grown since you’ve been pregnant. he asks quietly if you’ve nursed today and you say yes. (he truly just wants to help you in any way he can, knowing having a baby is so much work and stress, and he knows breastfeeding can be painful). he asks shamefully if he can try, pulling your tank top down and groping your tits. milk beads from your nipples. “please,” he’d whimper, unable to tear his eyes away from your lactating breasts. you pull him into you and he latches his lips onto your nipple, sucking down the milky substance with a groan. “oh!” you gasp, grinding up into him. from there, it turned into an everyday affair, him suckling on you carefully yet needy. sometimes, when you were both tired after a long day, you’d fall asleep together with his lips around your nipple, both comforted by eachother.

DAD!LUIGI MANGIONE who fucks you raw and deep almost every day while you’re pregnant. he’s loving the fact that he can cum inside you everytime.

MASTERLIST - PREV WORK

@strawbrriess @bellobambino @f4nfic-lover @btcowboy @chmpgneprblem @soggysouppp @hereandqueer6540 @poohkie90 @bricapallen16 @miarosalie11 @v1rtualsalvat10n @hypnotizedbyhood @webanglikethat @croucify @cumdnmp @ga33y3 @zeervzn @marzipanlvr @seesaw-it @raekensluver @ddlydevotion @hujirose @darleneslane @babydollfacedangel @withloveforlu @mxdnvghts @strawbxrryaxolotyl

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

Omg I love your writing can you please do a smut fic for Bruce Wayne’s wife asking him to be rough with her like asking to be spanked and chocked because he keeps treating her like she’s fragile and refuse to be rough in bed, she’s really small in stature so he’s always been scared of actually hurting her but she finally convinces him to finally be rough with her. Please ❤️❤️

GRRRR FOAMING AT THE MOUTH ON THIS ONE ABSOLUTELYYY

Sorry this one took a while to write, just had a major snowstorm recently that made a tree fall on the powerlines to my house. Currently running on mobile data to write this bc I won't have wifi till Sunday😀

Like You're Made of Glass

Bruce Wayne x Wife! Reader

Smut and a bit of fluff mixed in.

Alsooo!!! As per the request, the reader is depicted to be quite a fair bit smaller than Bruce, but if anybody wants a Plus Sized reader fic, Im totally down! We love body positivity over here, no matter who you are💜

"Come on, Bruce," Your voice is barely more than a soft, seductive whisper as your arms wrap around his broad, toned shoulders, "I'm not made of glass, you know." Bruce has been at it for hours at this point, the posture of his back absolutely suffering as he continues filling out paperwork at his desk. You would honestly be lying if you said it wasn't attractive, though: driven men are just so... Admirable.

Bruce couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that, despite barely glancing up from his patrol reports as you hug him from behind. "No, you're not," Your husband agrees softly, his voice, albeit slightly gruff from disuse over the past few hours, filling the study air with such a soothing melody. "But you are my wife. And, as far as I'm concerned, a certain Mrs. Wayne vowed that she would keep herself safe from any potential threat the night before we got married. That does include myself, for your information."

A soft huff falls from your lips at that, the sound echoing through the, otherwise silent, secured office. "And, as far as I'm concerned, a certain Mr. Wayne vowed to do anything for my happiness on our wedding day," The tease leaves your mouth as it finds it's way to his neck, the sound slightly muffled as you press soft, loving kisses to his tense muscles. "You promised a unicorn, if I wanted it."

He really couldn't help but crack a soft smile at that, which was a rare sight from the, otherwise stoic, Batman. A deep breath and slight sigh escapes his mouth as the pen leaves his hands and rests on the piles of milky, white papers. Bruce couldn't help but let his head fall to the side slightly to rest upon your cheek, which is still burried into the crook of his neck.

"I did promise you a unicorn," He agrees yet again in an even softer tone. That was the tone he used when he considered caving to his darling wife's pleading (which he almost always did). "And your happiness," Bruce adds after a moment as he lets his weary eyes flutter closed, breathing in your familiar and comforting scent.

“But happiness isn’t just about unicorns and fairy tales, Bruce,” you respond, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. The warmth in your eyes contrasts the cool sterility of the office, sparking something intense in the depths of his dark eyes. “It’s also about being able to live fully in every aspect, even between us.”

He furrows his brow slightly, processing your words, but he can't deny the heat rising from where your bodies almost touch and how it made his pants feel just that bit tighter. You have a way of igniting feelings he'd long buried under layers of duty and responsibility. “I just… I want you safe,” he replies, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

“I know you do,” you assure him, reaching out to trace your fingers along the strong line of his jaw. “But sometimes, I need you to let go—just a little. You don’t always have to protect me. I’m not a delicate flower needing shelter from the storm. I can handle more than you think.”

A flicker of uncertainty dances across his sharp features as he considers your request. His instincts scream at him to be careful, to treat you with the utmost caution. It feels impossible to shake the weight of years spent fighting villains and guarding against any potential harm. But then again, you’ve never been one to shrink back from challenges.

“And what exactly are you suggesting?” he questions, half-teasing, half-serious, lifting an eyebrow. The tension in the spacious office thrummed with electricity, and his heart raced in anticipation of your answer.

Your lips curl into a confident smile, emboldened by a newfound sense of liberation. “I’m saying… I want you to be you,” you say, your voice steady and full of promise. “The true you. Your passion is part of who you are, Bruce. Embrace it—embrace me. Let’s shake things up a bit.”

He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, the playful challenge hanging thick between you. “You mean you want the Batman?” he asks, his voice lowering further, laced with a darker edge that sends a thrill coursing through you.

“Exactly.” You lean closer, your breath fanning over his skin, whispering sweetly, “I want you to show me how much you can handle without worrying if it will break me.”

Bruce studies you closely, weighing the implications of your daring invitation. What if he lost control? What if he did hurt you, despite knowing you were more than capable of taking care of yourself? But then again, this was another side of you he had never truly explored. This vulnerable yet fierce woman in front of him—the perfect blend of softness and strength.

“Alright,” he finally concedes, his deep voice wrapping around you like a warm embrace. “But if I lose myself—”

“You won’t,” you interrupt, capturing his gaze with yours. “Trust me. Just let go.”

In that moment, the barriers that had always kept him restrained began to crumble. He leaned forward, capturing your lips with his, the kiss igniting a spark that felt both electrifying and intoxicating. The gentle brush of your mouths transformed into something deeper, more fervent, an unspoken promise exchanged in the heated embrace.

The tension of the day melted away, replaced by the rhythm of inspiration and passion. As you pulled him closer, your body pressed firmly against his, the world outside ceased to exist. Time stood still in the sanctity of the study as both of you surrendered to the moment, determined to reveal the hidden depths of your love for one another.

Bruce's hands found your waist, gripping the soft fabric of your shirt as he deepened the kiss, seeking to possess and protect all at once. There was urgency in his movements now, a storm brewing beneath the surface that had long been contained. Your heart raced at the primal energy radiating from him, and you could feel the anticipation thrumming through every fiber of your being.

Breaking the kiss, his breath was heavy and warm against your lips. "You want me to be rougher, then," he murmured, almost as if solidifying the agreement into existence. "Is that what you really want?"

You nodded vigorously, feeling your cheeks flush with a mix of excitement and desire. “Yes, Bruce. I’m ready. Just… take care of me afterward.”

With that affirmation ringing in his ears like a battle cry, Bruce transitioned effortlessly into this new role — the man beneath the mask, the guardian who had finally allowed vulnerability within the sanctuary of your shared intimacy.

He pushed you back until the desk met the small of your back, a flash of surprise dancing across your features. But before you could second-guess yourself, he captured your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. His frame loomed over yours, an embodiment of strength and restraint, the very image of the Batman you knew.

“Remember,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, “if it gets to be too much, you tap out.”

“Okay,” you whispered, anticipation flooding your veins.

With a quick motion, he brought his other hand down, delivering a sharp smack against your thigh that sent a jolt of electrifying pleasure coursing through you. You gasped, not from pain, but from exhilaration, your body instinctively arching to welcome him deeper into your world. A thrill spread through you as he leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear.

“Good girl,” he praised, another spank following, each strike sharper yet tinged with the tenderness of his touch. You squirmed beneath him, relishing the balance of pleasure and pain, the way that every strike lit up your skin and left a burning mark of his possession.

“More,” you urged, desperation coloring your tone, and he didn't hesitate to comply. Each slap echoed throughout the office, a rhythm punctuated by your soft cries and the heat radiating from Bruce’s body. He watched you carefully, assessing your reaction, the fierce protectiveness never fully disappearing from his gaze.

As the strikes continued, he leaned down and captured your neck between his fingers, applying just enough pressure to send a thrilling rush through your body without choking you. “You’re doing so well for me,” he murmured in that deep, gravelly tone that made your heart race even faster.

His actions intensified the fire within you, igniting a need that warped your perception of time and space. As he toyed with your neck, whispering praises and encouragements, your body responded instinctively, hungry for more of him, more of this exhilarating freedom he was giving you.

“Please, Bruce,” you gasped, your voice almost pleading. It felt like a confession, one that laid bare more than just the physical hunger you craved. “I want everything you can give me.”

A growl rumbled in his chest at that, a sound so primal and beautiful that it sent shockwaves through your entire being. A wicked grin crept onto his face as he transitioned from teasing strokes to something far more feral. He released your wrists, only to shift his grip to your hair, his fingers curling around the strands tightly yet tenderly.

“You asked for it,” he warned, a playful glint in his eyes before leaning forward, claiming your mouth with his again, the taste of you igniting the raw side of his nature. The kiss held none of the gentleness he usually afforded you; instead, it was possessive, driving, demanding.

As he did so, one of his large, calloused hands made it's way beneath your skirt to gently tease the skin of your thigh. The warm appendage slowly traveled up your leg, cupping the mass of your hip while his fingers slipped beneath the stretchy elastic of your panties. They were the pretty, lacy ones he picked up on his last big work trip out of the country.

The warmth of his lips was soon missed, however, as they trailed away from your own. But before you could whine at the loss of contact, his mouth trailed down to your jawline and neck, sucking and biting deep, purple marks into your delicate skin.

You didn't even have a chance to let out a small whimper at the assault on your neck before the sound of fabric ripping could be heard throughout the lavishly-decorated room. "Bruce!" You complain with a soft pout as you feel the reminants of the lacy cloth slipping down your thighs before landing in a small pile of shreds on the carpet floor.

"My deepest apologies, Mrs. Wayne," Bruce didn't bother to lift his head from your neck as he gave that shit-eating grin that you seldom see. He wasted no time in trailing his ring finger along your slick heat, collecting some of the moisture previously accumulating in your panties before trailing the digit up and around your sensitive bundle of nerves. "They're replaceable."

It didn't take long for your hips to be twitching softly, your husband's index and middle fingers tortuously and slowly trailing back to your weeping hole. His warm, calloused thumb moved to rub soft, languid circles on your clit as the digits slid their way inside of you, his lips never ceasing their attack on your, now bruising, neck.

"Baby-" Your whines were shortened in record time as Bruce used his free hand to cover your mouth, squeezing just enough on your jaw to get the point across. The slight stretch of his thick, long fingers inside of your cunt was divine: you almost couldn't help it.

"Speak when you're spoken to, beautiful," his voice was barely more than a rough whisper as his lips moved down your chest, removing the hand from your mouth to undo the first couple of buttons on your blouse. "I wouldn't want my wife out of place, would I? It's not safe for Batman's woman not to listen when given instructions."

His tone was almost enough to send shivers down your spine as your hips twitched yet again as his fingers pumped at a quickened pace, scissoring your gummy walls open to eventually accomodate for his girthy length. Almost immediately, your thigh is met with yet another loud 'smack!' in the otherwise quiet office. "Fuck, Bruce..." A soft whine escapes you, filling the air with your husband's favorite melody. He'd let you off the hook for speaking... This time, at least.

It felt like forever that Bruce spent eagerly fingering your dripping cunt, but that was to be expected. Even if he agreed to let go for the night, he could never risk seriously hurting his beautiful wife by not prepping her correctly. But, eventually, you felt that oh-so familiar tightening sensation in your stomach, your clit burning with pleasure as your husband rubbed at the sensitive spot.

But, then, he stopped.

Bruce had never denied you an orgasm before. In all honesty, you thought you were going to cry as he pulled his fingers away from your cunt, the muscles now clenching desperately around nothing but thin air. Before you could so much as make a pout, he was holding his two fingers to your lips, the digits gleaming with your own fluids. "Suck."

And, for a moment, you laid there as you processed his command. The gesture seemed so obscene but, god, you'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on nonetheless. So, you gently parted your plush, kiss-swollen lips for him and embraced the pallete of the liquids created by none other than your weeping, aching hole.

Bruce let out a soft, pleased hum at that, pushing his fingers completely into your mouth before slowly unbuckling his belt with his unoccupied hand. You couldn't help but notice that it was tour favorite belt, the one with your initials engraved into the metal clasp currently making it's way to the carpeted floor of the study.

As always, you felt your heart give a soft flutter at the sight of your husband's hard, leaking cock as he freed it of his boxers, letting them fall down to his ankles before stepping out of them and allowing then to join the pile of scraps you once called your favorite panties. You were so entranced by Bruce you hadn't even noticed that youd stopped sucking on his soaked digits.

'Smack!'

Yet another echo came from the soft skin of your thigh as his free hand came in contact with it, the lewd sound bouncinf off of the filled bookcases. "Did I ever tell you to stop?" The tone he used was one you very rarely got to hear, usually reserved for the scumbags he interrogated during the dark Gotham nights.

It was hot.

You shook your head slightly as you looked up at those beautiful, blue eyes, now darkened with what could only be described as feral lust. This, yet again, earned a soft hum of approval from your husband. "Good girl..." He praised in a soft whisper, his unoccupied hand reaching to carefully align the tip of his length up with your heat. "I want you to tap out if it's too much. I need you to tap out if it's too much.

And before you could even utter another whimper, Bruce was sinking his girthy cock into your wet folds. He wasted no time in plowing himself into you, the hard slapping echoing through the study so loudly that you worried if one of the kids were to walk by, they'd have a horrendous image of their adoptive parents burned into their skulls. But all of those thoughts vanished as Bruce shoved his fingers even further down your throat, just barely leaving you enough room to breathe without a significant struggle.

If you had the ability to, your head would be falling back and your jaw would be slack in utter ecstasy. The most you could do for the moment was moan around your husband's thick fingers while he plowed into you, the mahogany desk creaking slightly from the pressure below. In all honesty, you were convinced Bruce would break the desk before he was through. Even then, it didn't seem like he had any intentions of stopping.

"Such a good girl for me..." This was so much different than the Bruce you were used to. Your Bruce held you as close as possible while whispering declarations of love and claiming that you're the best thing to ever happen to him. This Bruce wasn't holding you like a porcelain doll, but instead keeping himself at the best angle to ram into your pretty pussy as hard as he could. "That's my pretty little cunt, isn't it?"

The best you could do was let out a pornographic whine around his fingers, spit dripping down from the corners of your stuffed lips and making it's way down tour flushed and heated cheeks. Despite his literal decades of experience, it took all of his effort not to cum right then and there with your warm, gummy walls milking his length.

Pound after pound.

Slap after slap.

For what felt like eternity, that's all that could be heard. At this point in your sexual adventure, Bruce was determining that he much rathered ramming into your tight little hole when you were still partially clothed. It gave him something more to imagine the next time he saw you in the office and didn't have the chance to bend you over his desk.

And, for the second time that night, you felt that firey, knotted feeling arising in the pits of your stomach. As your fingers reached up to gently tangle your fingers into his, now messy, hair and give it a soft tug, the most you could do otherwise was give him a pleading look, silently begging for him not to rip away yet another orgasm in one night.

At first, Bruce debated edging you at least once more. But when he finally looked into those gorgeous eyes, now hazed over with need, trust, and love, he decided that the rest of the teasing could wait for another night. "Are you going to cum, beautiful?" His voice is ragged and interrupted by a soft groan as he speaks. "Is my pretty little wife going to cum all over my cock?"

While you nodded desperately, still begging for your release to be granted, he kept his pace steady while giving a soft nod, the hair on his forehead sticking slightly with the sheen layer of sweat forming. Within moments, your gummy walls were clenching down around his thick length like there was no tomorrow, covering his shaft with the milky fluid that splashed up onto his pelvic bone and thighs slightly. "Bruce..." Your endless whimpers of his name were bately audible over the thick digits still shoved into your mouth.

As Bruce's hips began to stutter and his groans became more prominent, you wrapped your sore and achy legs around him. "Stay," You whimpered as he removed his fingers in favor of wrapping his arms around your shoulders, almost hugging you as he kept you pinned over the mahogany desk. "Give it to me. Don't pull out. Don't you fucking dare pull out."

That was all it took for Bruce's face to be burried in your shoudler, letting out a low moan as his cock painted your insides with his sperm. Even after he came, your husband still moved slowly in and out of your weeping cunt, prolonging the ecstasy of both of your orgasms as long as possible. Had the two of you ever talked seriously about kids? No, but he could pick up a Plan B in the morning.

"Fuck..." Was all Bruce muttered into your skin before peppering your skin in light kisses, each one trailing upward until his lips met yours in a soft, loving contact. This was the loving husband you were used to. When he finally pulled away and helped brush some of the hair now sticking to your forehead from the sheer layer of sweat covering your body out of the way, he only had three words. "I love you."

Masterlist

[nasa]

A simulated image of NASA’s Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope’s future observations toward the center of our galaxy, spanning less than 1 percent of the total area of Roman’s Galactic Bulge Time-Domain Survey. The simulated stars were drawn from the Besançon Galactic Model.

Exploring the Changing Universe with the Roman Space Telescope

The view from your backyard might paint the universe as an unchanging realm, where only twinkling stars and nearby objects, like satellites and meteors, stray from the apparent constancy. But stargazing through NASA’s upcoming Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope will offer a front row seat to a dazzling display of cosmic fireworks sparkling across the sky.

Roman will view extremely faint infrared light, which has longer wavelengths than our eyes can see. Two of the mission’s core observing programs will monitor specific patches of the sky. Stitching the results together like stop-motion animation will create movies that reveal changing objects and fleeting events that would otherwise be hidden from our view.

Watch this video to learn about time-domain astronomy and how time will be a key element in NASA’s Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope’s galactic bulge survey. Credit: NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center

This type of science, called time-domain astronomy, is difficult for telescopes that have smaller views of space. Roman’s large field of view will help us see huge swaths of the universe. Instead of always looking at specific things and events astronomers have already identified, Roman will be able to repeatedly observe large areas of the sky to catch phenomena scientists can't predict. Then astronomers can find things no one knew were there!

One of Roman’s main surveys, the Galactic Bulge Time-Domain Survey, will monitor hundreds of millions of stars toward the center of our Milky Way galaxy. Astronomers will see many of the stars appear to flash or flicker over time.

This animation illustrates the concept of gravitational microlensing. When one star in the sky appears to pass nearly in front of another, the light rays of the background source star are bent due to the warped space-time around the foreground star. The closer star is then a virtual magnifying glass, amplifying the brightness of the background source star, so we refer to the foreground star as the lens star. If the lens star harbors a planetary system, then those planets can also act as lenses, each one producing a short change in the brightness of the source. Thus, we discover the presence of each exoplanet, and measure its mass and how far it is from its star. Credit: NASA's Goddard Space Flight Center Conceptual Image Lab 

That can happen when something like a star or planet moves in front of a background star from our point of view. Because anything with mass warps the fabric of space-time, light from the distant star bends around the nearer object as it passes by. That makes the nearer object act as a natural magnifying glass, creating a temporary spike in the brightness of the background star’s light. That signal lets astronomers know there’s an intervening object, even if they can’t see it directly.

This artist’s concept shows the region of the Milky Way NASA’s Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope’s Galactic Bulge Time-Domain Survey will cover – relatively uncharted territory when it comes to planet-finding. That’s important because the way planets form and evolve may be different depending on where in the galaxy they’re located. Our solar system is situated near the outskirts of the Milky Way, about halfway out on one of the galaxy’s spiral arms. A recent Kepler Space Telescope study showed that stars on the fringes of the Milky Way possess fewer of the most common planet types that have been detected so far. Roman will search in the opposite direction, toward the center of the galaxy, and could find differences in that galactic neighborhood, too.

Using this method, called microlensing, Roman will likely set a new record for the farthest-known exoplanet. That would offer a glimpse of a different galactic neighborhood that could be home to worlds quite unlike the more than 5,500 that are currently known. Roman’s microlensing observations will also find starless planets, black holes, neutron stars, and more!

This animation shows a planet crossing in front of, or transiting, its host star and the corresponding light curve astronomers would see. Using this technique, scientists anticipate NASA’s Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope could find 100,000 new worlds. Credit: NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center/Chris Smith (USRA/GESTAR)

Stars Roman sees may also appear to flicker when a planet crosses in front of, or transits, its host star as it orbits. Roman could find 100,000 planets this way! Small icy objects that haunt the outskirts of our own solar system, known as Kuiper belt objects, may occasionally pass in front of faraway stars Roman sees, too. Astronomers will be able to see how much water the Kuiper belt objects have because the ice absorbs specific wavelengths of infrared light, providing a “fingerprint” of its presence. This will give us a window into our solar system’s early days.

This animation visualizes a type Ia supernova.

Roman’s High Latitude Time-Domain Survey will look beyond our galaxy to hunt for type Ia supernovas. These exploding stars originate from some binary star systems that contain at least one white dwarf – the small, hot core remnant of a Sun-like star. In some cases, the dwarf may siphon material from its companion. This triggers a runaway reaction that ultimately detonates the thief once it reaches a specific point where it has gained so much mass that it becomes unstable.

NASA’s upcoming Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope will see thousands of exploding stars called supernovae across vast stretches of time and space. Using these observations, astronomers aim to shine a light on several cosmic mysteries, providing a window onto the universe’s distant past. Credit: NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center

Since these rare explosions each peak at a similar, known intrinsic brightness, astronomers can use them to determine how far away they are by simply measuring how bright they appear. Astronomers will use Roman to study the light of these supernovas to find out how quickly they appear to be moving away from us.

By comparing how fast they’re receding at different distances, scientists can trace cosmic expansion over time. This will help us understand whether and how dark energy – the unexplained pressure thought to speed up the universe’s expansion – has changed throughout the history of the universe.

NASA’s Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope will survey the same areas of the sky every few days. Researchers will mine this data to identify kilonovas – explosions that happen when two neutron stars or a neutron star and a black hole collide and merge. When these collisions happen, a fraction of the resulting debris is ejected as jets, which move near the speed of light. The remaining debris produces hot, glowing, neutron-rich clouds that forge heavy elements, like gold and platinum. Roman’s extensive data will help astronomers better identify how often these events occur, how much energy they give off, and how near or far they are.

And since this survey will repeatedly observe the same large vista of space, scientists will also see sporadic events like neutron stars colliding and stars being swept into black holes. Roman could even find new types of objects and events that astronomers have never seen before!

Learn more about the exciting science Roman will investigate on X and Facebook.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[ceilidho]

fear of god

prompt: There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 1 masterlist

-

In the end, gazing out of the ship's portholes into the dark vastness of space proves to be less comforting than the architects must have originally anticipated. You can attest to this more than most.

Every morning, you get up an hour earlier than the rest of your crew and make your way to the galley to make your morning cup of coffee. A pack of instant crystals into your favorite mug and hot recycled water from the kettle. Sometimes you stay to have breakfast, but often you take your coffee with you to the main viewing deck for your morning sojourn. 

There, you sit curled up in the navigator’s chair and stare out of the flight deck window until your breathing levels out. Early morning meditations. With the sun only visible through the rear porthole, the Milky Way stretches out before you, immeasurably vast. Ancient cosmic entities, some already long dead. 

Stars fill your field of vision like an intricate latticework of varying brightness. The watery glass warps at the edges, bending the far off light. All things with their propensity for brightness and decay.

A deep, steady hum fills the room. It’s cathartic to be alone. Sometimes, when you look out into the depths of space, you imagine yourself as a cartographer of old, labeling everything beyond this point: “here there be dragons.” 

Farah is the first person to join you, the ship’s maintenance technician already washed and dressed, floral cumberbund cinched around her midriff and her headwrap pinned in place. She greets you with a firm nod upon her entry, never one to mince words. In the months since your ship set off on its course for Jupiter, you’ve exchanged all of ten words, most of your conversation one-sided. 

She glides in like she’s been up for hours, likely running through her routine maintenance checklist. Monitoring propulsion, life support, and all critical systems. You wouldn’t doubt if she had been, descending into the bowels of the ship and cataloging every minute difference from the day before. Nothing if not thorough. 

Graves sweeps in not twenty minutes later, his uniform pressed and ironed. When he glances your way, you shrink under his gaze, self-conscious about something unidentifiable. He is every bit the commander you met briefly back on Earth, never a hair out of place. If he were less intimidating, he’d be insufferable. 

“Morning,” you murmur, the mug still close to your lips making your voice reverberate. He doesn’t respond. You wonder if he even heard you greet him. It likely wouldn't matter.

Medic has a different connotation this far from Earth. Hierarchy out in space is typically determined by way of one’s importance to the ship, and the scope of your role does not, unfortunately, include maintaining the ship. What that means, unofficially, is that you speak when spoken to, and not for any other reason. 

In the months to come, there may be moments or days when your usefulness is acknowledged, usually much to your colleagues’ chagrin. Though it’s not likely that any of the crew will encounter foreign pathogens while on a hermetically sealed ship in the middle of space, they’re all still susceptible to falls and cuts and worse. Nikolai, the chief engineer on board, had sprained his wrist during the first week of the mission, lending you immediate purpose and validation. 

You make way for the second officer when he finally deigns to make an appearance, sliding quietly out of his seat and stepping to the back of the cockpit, back pressed to the wall closest to the door. 

“Morning, everyone,” he greets, peppier than the three of you despite his rumpled appearance. His thick mustache twitches with the force of his smile. “Ready to seize another day?”

“Jesus Christ, Keller, let’s tone it down ‘til about ten o’clock, alright?” Graves sighs. He pinches the bridge of his nose as if to ward off a headache.  

“Our clocks are off, commander,” Alex jokes, coming over to give him a little shake by the shoulder. It would be insubordination from anyone else. “I’m about ready to eat lunch.” 

“Let’s just get through formation and then you can go fill up the bottomless pit you call a stomach.”

The morning briefing never takes up too much time. It’s as much of an excuse to have coffee together as it is to go through the day’s schedule. Graves spends most of the time reviewing the flight course, charting where the ship will be by day’s end. 

“Almost through the belt,” Alex remarks, staring down at the monitor in front of him. It’s an incomprehensible jumble when you try to peer over his shoulder, but he must be able to make sense of it. 

The crew had been on high alert since entering the torus-shaped region between Mars and Jupiter a month back. For the most part, they needn’t have been so on edge—the average distance of the asteroids in the circumstellar disc between the two planets tended to be quite substantial—but a collision the previous day had reinstated their earlier anxiety. 

“Can we switch from manual yet, Farah?” Graves asks from his seat at the helm of the ship. 

She shakes her head, lips tightening with frustration. “I still have to figure out what’s going on with cruise control—it’s not responding correctly.”

“Was that from that little ding the other day?” you ask, blurting out the question without thinking.

Farah’s expression is flat when she glances over at you. “That ‘little ding’ nearly took out our communications system altogether.” 

You wince at that, staring down at your feet instead. Better to just shut your mouth than make a fool of yourself. Had you not blurted out the question, you might have even surmised the nature of the situation given the comm specialist’s notable absence from the cockpit. 

When Nikolai eventually ambles in with a thermos of coffee and deep troughs under his eyes, Farah looks up and frowns. “Where’s Hadir?”

The man shrugs, nonplussed. “Cargo?” he grunts, rolling the toothpick between his teeth around the words. 

She sighs. “I’ll go find him.”

No one says anything when she leaves, the double doors sliding open and shut automatically at her approach, and she doesn’t bother saying goodbye. 

“Dismissed, I guess,” Graves sighs, collapsing into his chair and spinning around to face the stars proliferating in front of him. 

The informality digs at you sometimes because you know you can’t indulge in it. The times you’ve attempted to, you’ve been rebuffed. Sometimes unintentionally, but often to remind you of your place.

This isn’t a crew you’ve ever worked with before. From conversations you’ve overheard, you’ve gleaned that they’ve all worked together in different capacities before, years of familiarity breeding an easy trust and companionship between them. Two of them might even be lovers—though Farah maintains a neutral facade at all times, the same can’t be said for Alex, the man always hovering nearby, eyes going soft at the sight of her. 

You’re the only odd man out. The newcomer. And though you sit with them in the mess for meals and partake in conversation and pass jokes like small stones from hand to hand, you know deep down, in the dark well of your heart, that you are not one of them. You are a passenger that they picked up along the way. A straggler. 

This wasn’t supposed to be the case. When you signed on to the mission months ago, the circumstances were wholly different. A newer ship, a different crew, some of which you’d worked with before. Then ownership changed hands and budgets were cut. Slashed to ribbons even. You had a chance to tour the ship before the launch date, and even down on Earth with all the glitz and glam available to trick the eye, you hadn’t been convinced of the vessel’s ability to withstand the extreme conditions of space.  

But by then, you were locked into a contract so iron-clad that the consequences of breaking it seemed worse than simply seeing the mission through. 

Most days, you feel like you’re waiting for something to give. You pass through halls that echo with low creaks and a deep, rhythmic thrum. Sometimes the walls of the ship groan so loud that you wait with baited breath for the hull to implode around you, to feel the metal crush the delicate eggshell of your body beneath its weight. 

It’s not any better to just stay in your room, your quarters too cramped to nurture anything other than claustrophobia. A recent, unfortunate side effect of spending months on such a small ship. You’ve become accustomed to crews numbering in the tens and hundreds, ships so colossal in size that even months spent aboard weren’t enough to explore all of its nooks and crannies. Cargo holds with excavators and backhoes for excavations on Mars and humvees for getting around the rough terrain. 

This ship barely holds six people and the payload you’ve been hauling to Europa. Pipes hiss in the corridors. Once a week, the radiator splutters or the intercom overhead crackles, kicking your heart into hyperdrive. 

You leave formation more out of sorts than ever. Vaguely aimless. With nothing to do, you grab breakfast in the galley and eat at the counter, too uncomfortable to venture over to the mess. Your days consist mainly of hovering around the ship or sitting quietly in the medbay, waiting for something to happen. A morbid preoccupation. 

The stairs clunk under your feet as you make your way down towards the medbay. You’ve long grown used to the sharp sound of your boots against the metal floor. 

Rationally, you know they don’t dislike you. You might even venture to say that you get along with the majority of them, particularly the chief engineer and Farah’s brother. The big man likes that it only takes a single drink to get you plastered, often howls with laughter when you stumble out of the mess after drinking with the crew, always the first to turn in for the night. Farah herself is only frosty because she works twice as hard as anyone else, burning the midnight oil on the regular. 

You swallow half-truths like stones to help settle your stomach. 

It doesn’t replace real companionship though; it approximates, but doesn’t quite replicate it. You feel its absence most acutely in the sidelong glances you sometimes get of real affection: Alex grazing his pinkie across Farah’s when he thinks no one is looking; Farah’s eyes softening at the sight of her brother; Graves and Nikolai reminiscing about something a decade past, hardly even aware of your presence in the room. 

It’s something you’ve endured before, but never for such an extended period of time. Prolonged isolation prickles at the mind, feathering the edges. It purples space; passes through the vents. The crew rarely goes on spacewalks (hardly any need for it), but sometimes you swear the ship’s oxygen has a faint sulfuric undertone, like rotten eggs. It permeates the air wherever you go. 

Someone knocks at the window just as you walk by.

You pause mid-sip, the mug raised to your lips and just pressing into your bottom lip, not yet tilted. 

“Hello,” you hear through the thick-paned glass, the voice muffled through the layers of glass and plastic partitions. “Could you let me in, please?”

Though your reflex is to look up, you don’t for some reason. The muscles in your neck stay locked instead. Shoulders stiff, weighed down by an unnatural force. 

The thing outside the ship knocks again. “Love? Can you hear me?”

Your head turns towards the porthole, the hand holding your mug drifting away from your mouth. It tips in your hand and a drop leaks down the side. Your lips tingle, almost numb. 

There’s a man outside the porthole, clear as day. He hovers outside the window, a hand raised in a friendly wave and full lips splitting to reveal perfect, white teeth when he smiles. He’s dressed in a spacesuit, no different than any of the crew on a spacewalk. Through the helmet, you can make out dark eyes and dimples. A close cropped beard.

It’s not a face you’ve ever seen before though. You think you might’ve remembered someone so handsome working on the ship with you.

Something needles inside of you though. A sickening feeling, like something you’ve forgotten but you desperately need to remember. 

“Hi there,” the man says, voice as charming as you’ve ever heard, so velvety rich that you feel the blood heat your cheeks. “Glad you were passing by. Mind letting me in?”

[artificial-transmutations]

Welcome to the Harem

"Are you quite alright, Sayyid?"

Liam woke up, startled. In front of him, blocking the sun stood a tanned young man with dark hair, looking down at him.

"Excuse me?" answered Liam, still not fully awake. His accent revealed his origins. He was British.

"I'm sorry, Sayyid. I have noticed you have fallen asleep in the sun, and I am worried you might burn your skin."

The other man was probably a few years younger than Liam, possibly in his early twenties. Unlike Liam, who was a tourist visiting this sun-kissed region of Hurghada, he seemed to be from around here: his skin was dark and his body lithe and strong. He had a slight Arabic accent, which added a certain exotic flavor to his words.

"Uh, I guess I dozed off a little."

It was hard to rip his gaze away from the young man in front of him, since he didn't even look half-bad, but Liam knew better than show any signs of homosexuality here. Even coming here, to a resort, as a tourist wasn't entirely without risk, but the British man had made a pact with himself not to let anything stop him from relaxing for the first time in years. And what better place could there be to escape the endless rain of the kingdom than the beautiful, sun-drenched beaches of the Red Sea.

"Ah, Sayyid, I fear that I have noticed too late. Apologies."

Liam was confused for a moment until he looked down on himself. And really: his exposed upper body had turned a bright shade of red.

"Bloody hell", he cursed, before smiling back at the native apologetically. "Sorry for that. You are right, I shouldn't have stayed out in the sun for so long."

His conversational partner seemed to look all over Liam before he smiled the same thin smile from before.

"Do not worry Sayyid, it happens a lot. The sun here is stronger than where you are from. If you want, I can offer some soothing lotion against the burn."

"Well, I'd appreciate that, thank you. What did you say your name was?"

"I am called Hassan." Hassan said. "Please allow me to apply the lotion."

Liam felt a bit uncomfortable, as the young man produced a glass bottle filled with a milky white substance and unscrewed the lid. He knew a bit or two of the Arabic language and knew that the name was rather fitting: Hassan meant 'handsome' in English, and Hassan was, indeed, rather good looking. Liam feared that it might be just a tad too exciting being touched by a handsome guy with lotion, but it was probably exceedingly rude to reject the offer.

"Sure, thanks a lot."

He just had to control himself a bit.

However, nothing prepared him for the feeling when Hassan carefully began rubbing the white substance onto his skin, with careful, almost tender touches. Liam felt the heat radiating off the young man's body while his fingers massaged the lotion onto his body, which, in contrast, felt cool and soothing, and he had to fight an erection forming. It didn't help at all that Hassan seemed to know exactly what he was doing, massaging his skin just the right way.

"There you go, Sayyid. You will feel much better soon."

Liam was fighting very hard but despite his efforts felt himself chubbing up in his tight speedo. Damn it. He should have worn something less revealing. Now he could only pray that Hassan wouldn't notice.

That hope was short lived. With skillful hands, he massaged the lotion into all visible skin, even right next to his tented speedo. While Hassan didn't acknowledge the show of indecency per se, he did take his time on the sensitive skin there, gently rubbing the lotion, and Liam knew exactly what the Arab was doing. He was teasing him, and it worked. The Brit was painfully hard and was glad when Hassan finally pulled away.

"There you go Sayyid. That should allow your skin to regenerate." he said, still with his thin smile. By now, Liam's head was at least as red as his chest, and he couldn't bring himself to directly look at Hassan.

"Ehm, thank you. That was very kind of you. What... kind of lotion is it exactly, by the way? It sure smells interesting."

The question was mainly to change the topic of the conversation to a safe territory, but Lian was also genuinely intrigued. Most suntan lotions he knew smelled fresh and flowery - or not at all. But this one... The smell was strong, and herbal, but with an interesting undertone. It smelled somewhat musky and manly, like a gym or a locker room. And there was something else, something familiar that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Ah, I'm glad you asked. It is a special recipe from my boss, Sheikh Tariq, himself. Do you like it?"

"Yeah, it's... pretty intense."

"Sheikh Tariq's recipes are always very... powerful, you know. You shouldn't have any problem with your sunburn anymore, but if you want, I can check on you again tomorrow."

"Sure."

Lian felt a strange pull from the handsome Arab and couldn't bring himself to refuse.

"Very well, Sayyid. May I ask your name?"

"Eh, yes, sure. It's Lian."

"Liam, is it?"

"No, Lian, with a 'n'." This was hardly the first time people confused his name, so Lian was used to it by now. Something seemed wrong about that, though, even though he couldn't say what.

"Very well, Lian. I shall return tomorrow."

With a final nod, the young Arab walked away, and Liam watched his toned, muscular body moving before he lay back down. The lotion did feel nice, and he felt his muscles relax and his burning skin soothe. Still, to be extra sure, he moved to the shade before he dozed off again.

Lian was surprisingly hungry at the evening buffet this day and wolfed down plate after plate of local food, which was delicious. When he went to his hotel room afterwards, he just felt wonderful. He decided to take a shower before bed and was amazed to find the redness had disappeared completely, leaving his pale skin smooth and soft. Except... it wasn't quite as pale anymore. Instead, he had acquired a slight tan. It looked good on him, he decided, as it complemented his lean definition and sparse body hair nicely.

That night, Lian had strange dreams. He dreamt that he, somehow, was pale as a piece of paper, thin like a stick figure and, of course, completely smooth all over his body. That was of course nonsense, Lian laughed about himself when he woke up. He probably had some distant ancestors from a sunnier region of the world, since even in winter, his skin never really lost its tan, and was often compared to a surfer's.

It was a good day for sunbathing again, and, secretly, Lian wouldn't mind meeting Hassan again. He packed his towel, his sunglasses and his book, and went outside. However, it wasn't long until he had dozed off again, and when he was woken by Hassan again, it was already afternoon.

"Ah, good evening, Lian. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, yes, a lot. Thanks again for yesterday. You really saved my vacation."

"Don't worry, Sayyid, this is my job."

He looked at Lian with an appraising look but was apparently not too happy with what he saw.

"Would you like another application of the lotion, Sayyid?"

"Yes, thank you, Hassan. That would be lovely."

The Arab was just as good with the lotion as the day before, and as soon as his skillful hands touched Lian's body, his dick grew hard again. However, since it didn't really pose any problems yesterday, Lian didn't even try to hide it today. Besides, it was probably normal, right?

He half registered that the tent in his underwear was much larger than yesterday, but that was probably imagination.

"Do you know what ingredients the lotion contains, Hassan?"

"Yes, Lian. We use a special extract of the Aloe Vera plant, as well as essential oils of local herbs. And then, there are some secret ingredients that only Sheikh Tariq knows about."

"Damn, that Sheikh really knows what he is doing. Are you Bedouins?"

"Yes, in a way. However, we no longer live the traditional nomadic life. Instead, the Sheikh founded an island resort that is open to the most exclusive guests.

"So, he is kind of a businessman then?"

"Yes, that is a way of putting it."

"Wow, that sounds fascinating. I'd love to see that."

Hassan smiled his thin smile, as he carefully massaged the area around Lian's throbbing erection. It was almost like he was amused about a secret joke.

"I can ask him, if you want. Your name was Lian, right? And you come from...?"

"Layan", corrected Layan. "And I'm from the United Kingdom, although my dad immigrated from the UAE."

"So, a man of mixed race then. Very good. I'm sure that will please the Sheikh. If you excuse me, I'll have to make a phone call."

"Sure", Layan agreed. His own slight Arabic accent felt somewhat alien all of a sudden, but it was probably just because he noticed the way Hassan spoke. After all, Layan had it all his life now: Even though he was born and raised in the UK, they only spoke Arabic at home, since his father refused to learn English, even now.

The smell from the lotion was even stronger today than yesterday, and it mixed so well with his own body odor. Layan's tan skin was sweating a lot, like usual, and the small pelt of black body hair was always soaked with his manly smell. He liked it that way: If he didn't have to, he didn't use any deodorant at all. And now, the smell of the spices completed his own odor nicely.

It didn't help that his dick was so hard, and his balls ached. His speedo was obscenely tented and for a moment, Layan feared someone in the resort might find it offensive. Truth be told, the conservative atmosphere in the resort was one of the few reasons that held him back from rubbing one out right here and now, seeing as a wet patch of precum already stained the tip of the tent.

Before Layan could think more about that, however, Hassan came back.

"Good news!" he said, and it took Layan a bit to notice that he had switched to Arabic.

"The Sheikh would be delighted to have you in his resort. We can leave immediately, if you want to. It also might be a more private atmosphere on his island."

The last comment was obviously aimed at Layan's throbbing rod, but Layan surely wasn't one to be easily embarrassed by his own masculinity.

"I would love to come. Let me just grab my stuff." he replied in the language of his father and got off his deck chair. Hassan nodded and waited politely, while Layan hurried to his room to pack his stuff. However, once he had arrived in the privacy of his hotel room, he couldn't help but admire himself in the mirror: He was a fine specimen of man, really:

His skin was a beautiful golden color, his black hair was short and shiny, and his dark, stubbled face gave him an exotic and masculine air. Not to mention his defined chest, his ripped abs, his well-trained arms, and his powerful legs, all covered with a layer of soft, black hair. And in between those powerful legs hung the pride of Layan, a heavy, uncut Arab dick, surrounded by a bush of the same black pubes.

He just couldn't help it. Hassan would have to wait a few minutes longer, he decided, as he closed his fist around the erect shaft and started to pump. He really needed that! He hadn't shot his load since... this morning. No, he was a man, and he needed release every few hours! In a few minutes, his large dick was shooting a stream of cum all over the room, and he sighed happily. He would leave that to the room service to clean up, as he didn't want to delay Hassan any further.

However, once he left the room behind him, he suddenly realized what the smell of the lotion had reminded him of: Cum. Was that the secret ingredient? Well, it probably wasn't, but it was a nice and naughty thought, in any case.

Together with Hassan, he boarded a private yacht that set course to the Sheikh's island. He couldn't help but admire the young man's physique as he steered the boat and licked his lips involuntarily.

Finally, they arrived. The island resort was luxurious, even more than Layan had anticipated it to be: Palm trees lined the white sand beach, and several servants awaited the two guests, who were led to the main building. It was a modern, western style house, but with some traditional middle-eastern touches, like the intricate wooden window panes and the colorful tiling. What Layan noticed, though, was that everyone they met, the many servants and the very few guests, were men, in their prime. There were no children or elderly, and certainly no women. In short: Everyone was hot!

"Sheikh Tariq will be expecting you, Sayyid", Hassan told him, and led him into a private room.

"But before you meet him, let me apply the lotion one more time."

"I'd love that, thank you!", Layan said with a grin.

He was a bit surprised but didn't resist, when Hassan grabbed his speedo and pulled it down, exposing all of Layan's body to the handsome man. His cock was quickly getting hard again.

"I need to apply the lotion to your whole body, this time." Hassan explained and, without hesitation started to work, as the totally nude Layan stepped out of his speedo and widened his stance until he stood legs shoulder-width apart, in his typical power-stance.

This time, Layan was prepared for the wonderful feeling of Hassan's strong hands and his teasing ways and could fully enjoy the sensation. He smirked and let the other man do his work, enjoying the touches with closed eyes.

Due to these, he missed the fact that his body changed drastically under the repeated effect of the lotion: Even more hair sprouted, and his frame quickly packed on more muscles. He even grew a bit taller, still, now significantly bigger than Hassan in every way.

As Hassan massaged his hard cock, a soft moan escaped Layan's lips. The cum-like smell, mixed with his own body odor made him even more horny, and his dick grew even bigger in the skilled hands of Hassan, until it was positively massive, both in girth and length. His old, unimproved, British cock would have fit twice over into that monstrosity.

Layan didn't think much about it, though. In fact, as Hassan progressed, he thought less and less. His thoughts became even simpler and more and more focused on nothing than his body, and his need to *fuck*. Yeah, that was right. Layth was a pure-bred piece of Arab prime beef, created for nothing but one thing: Bringing pleasure to men, and fucking them senseless. His name meant "Lion", and, true to that name, he was nothing short of an animal in bed.

Only when Hassan withdrew his hands, Layth opened his eyes. The smaller man had an obvious erection in his pants, but nodded politely, while licking his lips.

"I'm sure the Sheikh will be pleased with his newest addition to his harem. I can't wait to play with you, once Sheik Tariq had his turn."

Just like that, a vacation can turn into a calling for life. I'm sure the Sheikh will be impressed! You can enjoy a few additional versions of our newest addition to the harem over at my tip jar.

[robolvrr]

behind closed doors. ੈ♡˳

optimus prime x afab human reader warnings: nsfw.

he is fascinated.

it took a great deal of convincing. not him, but you - over mass displacement. you argued that with all the warnings from ratchet the purpose of such mechanisms should only be applied for tasks of importance.

optimus, as stoic as he can be now, could only hide his smile behind the battle-worn mask. "you are of importance", he said, such a simple reply. yet, he watched as you gaped like a goldfish, flustered beyond belief.

the prime had seen many a spectacle. overgrown forests bursting with life. deserts as dry as the sands of beachy hills and glacier cooled mountains under canopies of wind and snow. none could ever compare to humanity. so delicate and resilient, resourceful.

this adoration grips his spark in stride, especially when you finally get over nerves and slowly slip the velvet of your robe off a shoulder.

it's an intimate affair. skin and curve and softness, much closer than before. he's taller still, at least several feet. but now, he can gently grab your arms. squeeze his digits like scooping gold and watch entranced when the love indents form.

"optimus..."

a whine. he gingerly lets you go, still crowding your space. you show no actual discomfort and it's obvious by the time the puddle of fabric slips to your ankles, creating a halo around your feet. his optics, electric, take in the swell of your ass. your thighs, calves, biceps.

"the shower will get cold, my love."

now you are the one in a trance. so, you slide open the glass door, fingerprints leaving a kiss in the fog. your lover follows behind slowly, as if you might bound off like startled deer.

optimus wrangles his pondering by working the knots from your back instead.

the noises leaving your wet lips stir at his core. he feels perverted, watching your head tip back until the crown hits his chassis, spine arching beautiful as those modes of destruction and heroism glide down the front of your body.

droplets cling to your chest and drip down your chin. his fans, internal, click to a blast which is dampened by cascading shades from the shower-head.

"you look so small.. like this."

surprise takes your features by storm and his helm feels hot, not meaning to have said the thought aloud. however, when you part your legs to allow him to sponge lavender and honey suds with care, he can tell you find his sentiment charming.

he was so awkward with you at first.

now, the leader is wrapped tight around your fingers and you are wrapped tight around his. he can't help himself, thick silver of his middle digit pumping in and out. greedy where milky white coats and while his servos are still navigating, pleasing, you're practically drowning for him already.

you're cute. cute when you lift to the balls of your feet when he just can't take it anymore, array unlocking and spike rocking a steady pace that has you panting against porcelain.

when you aren't sounding dumb anymore, dribbling and babbling like you've lost your mind, you might laugh at the idea of the optimus prime being an ass-man.

it's a shameful vice when he switches positions. you're much bendier underneath warm drizzles, so you let him lift your leg just enough to hitch close to your hip so he can find that special angle that gets you singing. those "ah, ah, ah!"s when your flesh ripples, crushed ribbon beneath his grip.

and then you're crying, tangle of limbs while he sits. still full to the brim, strawberry pink coating your clit as he keeps close to you in a way you can't speak of beyond closed walls.

robolvrr 2024.

a/n: it has been so busy with holidays coming up! i am one tired gal. but i wanted to write a lil something (and i love this old tired man.)

[wannaeatramyeon]

Lookism x Reader: Boyfriend Moments

G/N. Fluffy scenes. Yes, this bitch delulu. Sammy, Vin, Goo, Jake, Ryuhei, Gun. Masterlists

Samuel Seo

"Try this," you offer to Samuel your tea.

That is delicious, by the way. And the way he pulls a face at the milky concoction mildly offends you.

You continue to wave the cup in your boyfriend's face, straw close to being shoved up his nose, drink splashing perilously against the lid.

He gives in. Because your dedication for annoying shit like this knows no bounds.

Steadying your hand and leaning forward, he takes a gulp from your drink. It's actually not bad. Better than he thought but-

"Too sweet," Samuel says, straightening and pushing his glasses back up his nose.

"Suit yourself," you shrug, appeased that at least Sammy has given it a go and you take a sip yourself. Then, with a grin- "It's like we just kissed."

He arches an eyebrow at you pointing at the straw, can't help rolling his eyes even as he chuckles at your silliness.

"Here,"  Samuel leans down again and kisses you. Tasting the tea on your lips except this time it is much much nicer. Delicious even. "Now we've actually kissed."

.

.

Vin Jin

Vin is undeniably cringe, according to Mary. And also a simp, according to-

Everyone, actually.

But he reasons that everyone must be jealous because if they found someone like you, they would also be all over them too.

Much like Vin is.

He's a lot more PG-13 than you expected though, less handsy. Even with his reputation, cool and cocky and honestly a bit of an asshole, Vin loves simply holding your hand, your fingers intertwined with his. Walking down the street and everyone knowing you're together.

Maybe it's a bit childish to like this one simple gesture so much. But he doesn't care. Sometimes he likes to just look at your hand in his, comparing sizes, touching your palm against his, and feeling the softness of your skin.

It doesn't stop there though.

He gives you loud obnoxious smooches on the cheek, rests his chin on your head, forces you to share a seat, squished together with your legs draping over his.

Vin wants you close by all the time. And he used to be annoyed when Mary would call him embarrassing, tell him to get a room. 

Has tried to keep a little distance at first yet continues to be drawn to you like a magnet. In the end, he has stopped caring. Besides, he thinks having you by his side automatically makes him a lot cooler.

.

.

Goo Kim

Goo knows what comes out of his mouth is gold, it’s just a shame that other people don't.

Gun tells him to shut up frequently, Crystal's eyes glaze over as she hums politely, and he knows Kouji tunes him out.

He takes it as a challenge sometimes, to see how long he can keep talking before he makes them awkward and uncomfortable, wasting their time, hoping to drive them insane.

It hasn't happened yet, but he's proud to say he's been close.

"And then what happened?" you ask Goo, leaning forward eagerly to hear the end of his story.

His brows knit together, puzzled. "Huh?"

"You can't stop there. What happened next?!"

Goo blinks. This (or 10 minutes ago) was usually when everyone told him to shut up. "You actually wanna hear the rest of it?"

You give a look to say 'duh' and nod.

Huh. Goo feels himself tearing up, dramatically thumps his hand against his heart and tells you you're the best.

"I know. Now finish the story."

.

.

Jake Kim

Jerry can recite all your key facts. Where you were born, your date of birth, blood type, horoscope.

Jason sometimes corrects him on the MBTI though.

Brad knows your favourite foods and favourite drinks, Lineman your favourite clothes and brands.

Lua knows that you prefer colder weather, although there's nothing like a sunny day to brighten up your mood. Or hiding somewhere warm and cosy when the rain pitter patters outside.

Sinu can recite your's and Jake's anniversary off by heart. The gifts that you have bought him, and what he has bought for you. He also knows what Jake was considering buying for you but decided not to in the end, for one reason or another.

Fact of the matter is, Jake slips you into all his conversations with everyone. It's a bit of a talent, to be honest. Even if the conversation isn't remotely related to you, Jake still finds something to mention that involves you.

It was a headache, at first. Jake derailed discussions and Big Deal meetings with anecdotes and tidbits when you first got together. Over time it became barely noticeable, only off hand comments or throw away remarks here and there.

This worked out well for the crew, because no one had the heart to tell Jake to shut up. How could they when his face lights up, eyes soft and crinkling. and he smiles so sweetly talking about you.

.

.

Ryuhei Kuroda

"Hey," you murmur, kissing Ryuhei on the cheek as his eyes flutter open.

He's looking at you bleary eyed, smile spreading as he comes to. You both sport matching pillowcase wrinkles on your face, and Ryuhei's cowlick is even more outrageous than usual.

"That was good," he says, stretching his hands overhead, elongating his limbs and arching his foot.

"The best nap," you agree.

Intimacy used to mean sex to Ryuhei. All physical.

Now, well it still means that because it is Ryuhei after all. But it also means deep conversations into the night with you. Sharing opinions and thoughts and vulnerability. Having another half (a better half, if you asked him) to be with, share experiences with.

And one of his favourite experiences that he recently discovered, is napping with you.

Ryuhei had expected his favourite experiences to be all manners of lewd and explicit things. But nothing can beat the soft domesticity of him curled around your back, both your breaths starting to deepen as you drift to sleep in his arms and he follows closely behind.

.

.

Gun Park

You wouldn't say Gun is a feeder, but the fact that he cooks and feeds you so well came as a surprise.

"Nutrition is important," he would tell you, prepping in a frilly apron that you bought for him as a joke but wore anyway because why wouldn't he? It's from you.

You also don't understand what role nutrition plays when he prepares the food in cutest ways. Carrots in the shape of flowers, octopus cut sausages, onigiri with faces made from nori.

Tonight, you peer down at your katsu curry, with a bear shaped out of rice lounging in it.

You can't help the burst of laughter, thinking of your boyfriend - the fearful Gun Park, the Shiro Oni, in the kitchen cooking this for you.

"What?" Gun asks, seated across the table, a spoonful halfway to his mouth.

"It's too cute," You grin at the black eyed menace, the guy that was supposed to be all about fighting but has a terribly soft spot for you.

You glance down at the bear again, in an adorably relaxed position with steam rising around it reminiscent of an onsen. It seems almost a shame to eat it. "I can't believe you made this."

Gun gives you a matter of fact answer, "You like it more when it's cute." 

Oh.

The fact he goes to all this effort, just because you like it more, makes him the cutest of all.

[dragonbabes]

Imagine Solas and Lavellan accidentally bumping into each other during those eight years between Trespasser and Veilguard.

Just so you know, I wanted this to be like two paragraphs max. Wanted to sprinkle a little angst dust on your head, but ended up pouring the whole jar (sorry, but also not sorry?) I hope you enjoy spiraling with me… <3

She sits on a fine couch tucked in a corner, behind sheer curtains that obscure her from most of the prying eyes trying to catch a glimpse of the elvish woman that wielded the very power of the fade; or the hand that had housed it. She isn’t blind to the disappointment that flitters across faces when her hand is found void of any milky glow, and only a shiny white gold prosthetic clinking against her glass of wine.

Wine. She hates it. Most the time. She’ll drink it at events, if only to make the night pass by a little smoother. The wine, however bitter it is, makes every minute packed with questions poking and prodding at her most painful scars sound a little less like stone grating against itself. Usually, Dorian sticks close to her side to fend off the especially insensitive and the racist assholes that like to hover around her as flies hang around shit.

Lavellan grew up among trees and flowers and sweet silence. The petticoats, snide remarks, and hidden meanings that stink up the air here gives her a headache. It's hot, it's crowded, and she feels like a tiger chained and locked in a cage. Despite hiding - or trying to, at least - Lavellan still catches people looking her way and then whispering behind their hand. Someone is always talking here. The one thing that she and Solas disagreed on is the 'pleasure' of court intrigue. The court makes her feel like a pretty little piece to be won by the highest bidder. When she attends, she’s surrounded by men with one drink too many in their bellies, saying things like—

“I’ve lost you to your thoughts again, Herald.” His words roll off his tongue thickly; he’s Orlesian, that much she’s gathered from his accent. He, who is a scholar and wiseman, ever searching for answers of the fade. And she — oh, joy — is an object of curiosity to him (those were his exact words). “I’ve heard such talk always clams you up. These are the things the others who have sought you have said. You are from the Free Marches, a Dalish, so I imagine you are hesitant to leave your people.” Lavellan hides her snort with her glass by taking another drink. Is he going to pretend that she hadn’t left her clan to travel across Thedas and attend the Conclave? Has this scholar yet asked himself, 'How can she fear leaving her people, yet be here, in Tevinter, at this ball?'

Her eyes, now housing unnatural specks of green that really fascinates the pompous magisters roving about, trail away from the human, along with her thoughts, to meet with the eyes of an elven servant just entering the room.

In his hands is a tray of balanced glasses of champagne — a drink much kinder to her tastebuds — that shine the same shade of gold as the servants' widening eyes. She blinks at the panic that washes through them. He spins around (not losing a drop of the champagne, she notes), shoves at the other servant entering just behind him - who bears a tray of yummy little sandwiches in their hand - back into the shroud of the hall and begins hissing at them.

Her gaze falls down to her hands, clasping her drink in her lap. Since the events of the Inquisition, she’s been held above most everyone. Revered as untouchable, someone to be worshipped. To be bowed to. Even by her own people.

She is lonely.

“Surely, I cannot be so unworthy of your company, Inquisitor.” The man concludes his rant at her side. A rant full of reasons of why she should stay at his estate and become his mistress, to put it bluntly. It's all wrapped up in passionate and poetic words he wants to use to tie her up. Like a dog, not like a lover. For she is an elf, she is a trophy to be won! The Inquisitor! Herald of Andraste, she has been touched by the Maker and sent to them. For them. But... She is an elf, and they'll do everything they can to gloss over it. Sometimes she wonders, hundreds - thousands, maybe - of years from now, will she still be remembered as the elven woman she is? Or will they remake her into what they want?

“My lord, my silence is not an insult to your character.” Lavellan watches as the elven servants fully enter the room now, the taller one behind now with a covered face and lowered eyes. Curious... They move around the room, offering refreshments with lowered heads and sagged shoulders; it makes her tongue thick in her mouth. She trails their movements. “I am flattered by your… Fascination with me.”

Glass empty, she sets it down and turns her hand over, eying the pretty designs etched into the prosthetic. Dagna designed it for her, with the help of Dorian; she wasn't surprised when they gave it to her to be blinded by the sunlight reflecting off the gold, but she was also surprised to love it so much. A simple thing, with the eye of the inquisition on her palm - where the mark was - and vines with small, intricate leaves twisting out from it... “The magic I wielded is a curious phenomenon, no?”

“Absolutely! No one has had such a close connection to the fade! Imagine what we could achieve with your ability, and my intelligence.” She grinds her teeth, jaw flexing; of course, she’s not intelligent enough to understand it on her own.

The vines, Dorian explained, wasn't just because she's Dalish or loves botany, but rather because she 'has a habit of making even the most desolate places blossom.' She closes her palm and holds it over her heart. This human next to her is ignorant to that; she shouldn't let it bother her...

“I’m sure it would’ve been extraordinary.” She lowly replies, her irritation barely covered by the smile she forces into her lips, “Unfortunately, I cannot wield it anymore.”

“Ah, yes, your adversary.” The man leans back in his chair, one arm resting on the couch behind her. Lavellan slowly inches away. “What was his name?” The lord taps his chin as he hums to himself. Lavellan doesn’t bother to offer him the answer, though it’s blanketed over her tongue, drying her mouth and casting her eyes out the window. “The Dread Wolf?” The elven servants stop in front of them.

“My lord.” He offers out the tray to them and lowers his honeyed eyes. Lavellan watches him steadily, the taught lines between her brow melting off her unnaturally sharp features. “Inquisitor.” He dares a glance at her, and she takes that second to smile at him. The lord grabs a glass and continues. As if they don’t exist.

“That is how your people refer to him, yes? The Dread Wolf. Fen’Harel.” There’s cheer flashing through the lord's eyes. He takes a taste of his drink and swishes it around his mouth with a smile barely contained. Her eyes sharpen, but she forces herself to look away before the look kills him. It would’ve, she imagines, and she’s almost ashamed to say it would bring her joy. Just a tad. But that’s not very Inquisitorial of her…

“Thank you.” She quietly says as she removes the last glass from the tray. “Yes, my lord. That’s what they call him.” He cackles, head thrown back, and drawing the rooms attention. Lavellan doesn’t share his elation.

“To think that you had one of your own gods under your nose for the better part of the year!” He puts his hand to his stomach and laughs some more. The Inquisitor rolls her eyes and takes a large gulp of her champagne. “And you never noticed, m’lady? That your feared Dread Wolf dined at the same table as you?” Lavellan’s hand tightens over her drink.

“His name…” Lavellan flinches at the break in her voice and takes a deep breath to steady herself. There’s a burning to her eye. One that tells her she may be one drink too deep herself. She downs what's left in her glass and clears her throat. “His name is Solas.” She flicks her eyes, newly hardened, back to the lord. “And he was there to help. Just like the rest of us. He is a good man… I had no reason to doubt him. Ever.”

“You sound rather affectionate in your address.” He comments.

“Yes.” Her words are quiet as a smile ghosts over her lips. “So, you will understand me when I say I cannot accept your offer.”

“Come, I can change your mind. You can merely visit for a while, things may progress naturally.”

“They will not, my lord.”

“You cannot know that.” He leans in closer to her, drawing a nervous laugh from her.

“I know myself well enough. It will not happen.”

“Surely you will not waste yourself on-“

“Would you like a treat, my lord?” The unmasked servants question is sudden and frantic at first but falling quiet toward the end. Lavellan raises her eye at the nervous shift of his feet, and glances to his friend behind him; what has them so on edge? She catches grey-blue eyes for merely a second before they’re obscured by his brunette hair as he bowed and offered the tray with steady hands. Familiarity instantly breathes down her neck at the shade of blue she saw. Then it begins to burn in her gut.

She cannot seem to escape him no matter where she is...

It’s quiet, Lavellan realizes, and she begins to blink herself back to the present. All humor leaves the lord as he finally turns to acknowledge the two standing before them. His eyes have somehow become a darker shade of black, and his lips turned down with a silent snarl. Lavellan shudders at the sudden change, goosebumps rising into her arms. She watches the look in his eye sharpen into a knife, and her heart jumps into a throat. Inhuman. He’s inhuman, she thinks.

“You can see that the Inquisitor and I are having a conversation, yet you would interrupt us?” Lavellan straightens. This will go badly, and quickly. She places her hand atop the lords, and levels him with a stare that she had been masking all night; pupils blown a little wide, hard, and a slight sense of bloodlust. It was men like this that took her clan from her. She can barely conceal the shake numbing her limbs.

She has to reel it in. For Dorian's sake.

“He has done nothing wrong, my lord. Please, there is no need to use such a tone.” His hand grasps back at her own, and he plants a slobbery kiss to the back of it. Horror parts her lips.

“You jump even to the defense of those who are below you. You are exquisite.” Her skin runs cold, as if she stepped out into a winter night with no cloak. Below her? Below her?

“You would sit next to me on this couch and say such a thing?”

“Ah, Inquisitor. You must be upset with my scolding. Forgive me for such unsightly behavior. I do not make a habit of disciplining the help in front of my guests, be sure. But sometimes you must act immediately, to teach them that some behaviors simply will not be tole-“

“Enough. You misunderstand me.” Her voice is low. Her tone is that of the Inquisitor, not Lavellan, and it makes her heart shiver and ache a little. “They are my people.” Her words are, despite being quiet, heavy, hard, and final. “They are not below me. They are my people.” Gods, she’s had too much to drink. She should hold her tongue. Dorian will have another mess to clean up if she loses her cool again. “Do not think that I have been blind to the disrespect you pay to me and my people. You think you have hidden them so cleverly them behind your little compliments. You have crossed the line. You disgust me, and you will never lay a finger on me, my lord.”

The lord is silent. So are the servants. She removes her tight grip from his hand and scoots herself to the other side of the couch. “Leave me. Before I lose the rest of my patience and become the savage you expect me to be.”

Joy, her first taste of it tonight, blankets over her chest at the wide-eyed, open-mouthed look that's taken up his paling face. Without a word, he scurries away. The Inquisitor steadies herself with a deep breath.

“I’m sorry to provoke him. I know my place.” Lavellan’s brow pinches, and her attention is back on the two before her. The other servant remains with his head bowed and tray outstretched.

“Thank you.” She gingerly removes a sandwich. “You must not apologize to me. And,” her eyes trace the lines of his pale face, and the messy curl of his blond locks… She stops herself. He knows his place, he says… But she fears he doesn’t. He is not below the nobles here, not below the human servants, but how can she convince him. In a room full of people that see him as a mouse scurrying between their boots. “Truly, you’ve nothing to apologize for.”

A sense of shame burrows in her cheeks as she looks away from them. She should help them. There won't be any consquences to her, but the lord will run and tattle, and these two will still be to blame. She should help them escape. But… How? Perhaps Dorian will know.

“You’re as kind as they say.” He bows his head to her, and she shifts in her seat. “We are in your debt.” Her eyes dart to the other elf, but his eyes remain downturned.

“Is your friend okay?” She asks. He jumps as his attention returns to the quiet form at his side.

“Oh, yes. He’s mute.”

“Oh?” She takes in the tall, masked man before her. “Why do you wear…” She catches herself, “Why the mask?”

“He has a nasty scar. Wouldn’t want to offend you, my lady.” Her brows pinch, but a laugh plays on her lips.

“People say I’m kind, yet you fear showing me your scars?” She looks to the other, wishing he’d bring his eyes to hers, but he doesn’t. She wants to see that blue again. “Well… I take no offense to yours. I’ve my own to hide as well.” She addresses him, and his eyes return to meet her own. Again, her stomach churns and her heart flutters. She wishes she could see Solas again, to know if she truly remembers his face, or how he looked at her. If the blue of his eye truly is so similar to the ones staring back at her.

Lavellan takes in the straight brow above the masked elf's eye and returns to searching the depths of them. They seem to suck her in, and she's helpless to pull herself away; they felt like wells full of an emotion she couldn’t place. She leans forward before she can think better of it. Why is her heart stirring so much? She felt she could drown in the warmth radiating out of those blue orbs.

Why is he looking at her like that? As if she were the only thing in this room? As if he knew her, as if he understood-

“Lady Inquisitor?” The servant asks quickly, another nervous shift in his stance.

“Ah, sorry.” A sheepish smile plays on her lips as she leans back against the couch. “Your eyes are quite beautiful. They remind me of a friend.” Her own gaze falls, returning to watch the city splayed out before her, and dulls to a melancholy glisten. “Thank you for the sandwich. Take care.” They bow to her, and stalk off.

She’s foolish. She wanted him back so badly she can see him in any set of pretty blue eyes, it seems. Her eyes redden, tears building until they threatened to fall, and all the drinks she’s had begins to burn in her stomach. She’d like to leave soon.

She hates the court. He loved it.

And that’s all she can think about when she comes to these things.

XXX

She hates the court.

Why is she even here?

Where is Dorian? Why would he ever leave her side in a place like this?

Those are the sort of things whirring around Solas’ head. He stares severely at the marble floor and takes deep breaths to ground the uproar within him. His body is buzzing, like every nerve within him is coming to life simply by being so near her. Years have passed, yet she is as beautiful as ever. More so.

Perched on a couch just behind the shifting curtains, the mage casts her several glances as they work their way around the room, and shudders each time she’s revealed to him. Beautiful. Ethereal. Her hair shifting with the breeze, tapping against her jaw, and plump, painted lips caressing the curve of her wine glass.

She hates wine.

He just needs information of who the idol was sold to. It’s a simple mission that any agent could carry out. Therin wasted no time trying to dissuade him. He even suggested Solas take a walk in Treviso, visit a cafe, and take a day to himself. But the mage didn't want to wander, he wanted to focus. There's a reason he insisted to come himself...

That reason is on the couch a few paces behind him. Solas hadn’t wanted to be haunted with the thought of her, torturing himself over the words she would say to him if she knew that he is one step closer to finishing the ritual… A ritual that would ruin the world she fought and bled for…

Therin insisted that he doesn’t follow him in, but she’d already seen Solas following him and she would have questions; the observant, smart, curious creature she is. So here he is, heart hammering so hard in his chest the closer he steps to her that he worries he might pass out.

When her voice finally reaches his ear, he almost let's out an audible whimper, but manages to strangle it with a quiet cough. How he missed hearing her voice. If he could, he’d give everything to spend another night pouring over books with her in the Skyhold library. What wouldn’t he do to hear her voice free of the weight of his betrayal and back to the warm, lilting cadence she used only with him.

“The Dread Wolf?” Solas stills at that name. The lord who is draped across the couch with Lavellan, leaning closer to her, as she leans farther away, hums with amusement. "Fen'Harel..." Solas can barely breathe, this close to her; yet unable to speak to her, to touch or hold her…

It’s nearly more painful to him to be unknown to her, as he is now, than to bare himself before her again.

His tongue swells after he steps past the curtain and beholds her entirely. Clad in a detailed dress clinging to her waist, pushing up her breasts, and resting happily on her wide hips. Solas burns her image into his mind, noting every little detail of her that has changed. His eyes linger on the golden hand that reaches out and plucks a drink from Therin's tray.

He could fall to his knees now and beg her forgiveness. She could tell him he is nothing and he would be grateful she even allowed him to kneel before her… His chest constricts painfully.

“Thank you.” Her voice is warm, softened. “Yes, my lord. That’s what they call him.” Her civility is forced, he can hear it in the flatness of her words. The human begins to cackle, and Solas’ eyes narrow dangerously onto him.

“To think that you had one of your own gods under your nose for the better part of the year!” The mage's hands tighten over the silver tray until they are white knuckled. He would laugh at Lavellan? The woman who saved his sorry ass from the tyranny of Corypheus? “And you never noticed, m’lady? That your feared Dread Wolf dined at the same table as you?”

And he would ignore vhenan's clear discomfort? The shade cast over her eye, the frown on her lips, and her hand tightening over her glass. The expression on her face, sure to fall unnoticed by everyone else, is one of desolation while she looks out to the city. He wanted to reach out and touch her temple, relieve her of what he knows is banging around in her chest; the exact thing that is trying to claw its own way out of his chest and to her. Solas’ mind is narrowing, his willpower dwindling; he’d damn all of his efforts soon if he didn’t leave. He needs to back away or he will blow their cover. The elf manages a weak step backwards.

“His name…” Her voice breaks, and he does the same. Her eyes are slightly irritated, a redness climbing up into her cheeks, and he can see her collecting herself with deep breaths. She’s always been in control of herself. He admires her for it. “His name is Solas.” She brings her eyes back to the lord, keeping them steadily on the shifting fool. “And he was there to help. Just like the restof us. He is a good man… I had no reason to doubt him. Ever.”

Solas’ heart falls into his stomach, where it begins to churn into a nausea that threatened to bring him to his knees. Her words are lodged in his chest.

“You sound rather affectionate in your address.”

“Yes.” It comes from her in a whisper. It comes with a smile. “So you will understand me when I say I cannot accept your offer.” Offer? His eyes flick back up to the two on the couch, trying to decipher the look shared between the two.

“Come, I can change your mind. You can merely visit for a while, things may progress naturally.” Is he asking her to, what, marry him? Be his mistress? Her unease and his insistence leads Solas to believe it’s exactly that; likely the latter, considering. There’s a pang in his chest.

Of course others will want her. Look at her. More than that, she is good. She’s kind, strong, intelligent- he could go on forever. She is everything. What creature could not crave her?

“They will not, my lord.”

“You cannot know that.” The bastard begins to lean closer to vhenan. The panic that shuddered over her expression is enough to send the elven god over the edge. She moves away with a nervous laugh. Solas stiffens, and he hears a sharp breath from Therin; the agent could tell when the Dread Wolf was getting prickly.

“I know myself well enough. It will not happen.” Solas’ eyes are smoldering.

“Surely you will not waste yourself on-“ That’s it. He can take it no more. He takes a step forward, the tray beginning to loosen in his hands.

“Would you like a treat, my lord?” Therin’s voice calls him back to himself. The mage swallows thickly. His eyes instinctively return to Lavellan. She locks him in his place with her gaze, every muscle in his body tensing, and his heart flopping from his stomach up into his throat. He could not get control over himself.

His eyes lower, and he holds out the tray. She would know his voice if he made even a noise, that he was sure of. So he’s silent in his regard to her and the piece of shit next to her. There’s an uncomfortable silence, but Solas doesn’t bother to ascertain why it’s fallen over the four of them.

“You can see that the Inquisitor and I are having a conversation, yet you would interrupt us?” Solas clenches his jaw. Would that the lord knew what beast was barely keeping himself in check a feet away… What would his words be if he knew that the Dread Wolf — the wolf that loved the woman he is so blatantly propositioning — had his fangs positioned at his throat; how Solas salivates at the thought of crushing the man’s windpipe.

“He has done nothing wrong, my lord. Please, there is no need to use such a tone.” The Dread Wolf’s blue eyes cool even further as he watches her hand fall atop the humans. Her skin has paled, her eyes darting between Therin and the lord with a disarming smile trying to stick on her lips.

“You jump even to the defense of those who are below you. You are exquisite.” She is exquis-

He will kill him. Before Solas leaves this ball tonight, he’ll see this man’s heart removed from his chest. The lord thinks he deserves to press his lips to her skin? Skin that Solas himself did not have the pleasure of tasting? This little human believes himself worthy of vhenan? His vhenan?

The lord even pays no mind to the look of terror that breaks through her mask for a second. He would ignore her rejections, belittle her, and touch her so carelessly? Death is almost too good for him.

“You would sit next to me on this couch and say such a thing?”

“Ah, Inquisitor. Forgive me for such unsightly behavior. I do not make a habit of disciplining the help in front of my guests, be sure. But sometimes you must act immediately, to teach them that some behaviors simply will not be tole-“

“Enough. You misunderstand me.” Lavellan’s voice is unnaturally hard and low. He imagines he’d die right then and there if she were to ever addresses him with such a cold voice. Solas waits impatiently for the lord to do the same. “They are my people.” She keeps her voice low so that the others in the room wouldn’t catch whiff of the commotion. “They are not below me. They are my people.” She has not changed so much, it seems. To endure the insults he wrapped up in his compliments, until they were directed at others. Often, she didn’t bother to defend herself from the sharp words of others, but the moment she heard someone mumble under their breath after him — or anyone, really — she was nearly feral. He would pull her away with a smile playing on his lips, and wrap his hand around her waist, plant a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

“It’s ok, vhenan.” He’d say. “Their words do not bother me.”

“But they bother me!” She’d cry back with this same look in her eyes. A direct stare, sparkling with ire, and a promise to fulfill every warning coming off her lips. His hands threatened to tremble knowing that they could not soothe her as they did before...

“Do not think that I have been blind to the disrespect you pay to me and my people. You think you have so cleverly hidden them behind your compliments. You have crossed the line. You disgust me, and you will never lay a finger on me, my lord.”

What is it raging about in his chest? Dying jealousy clashing with his ire, now being smothered by a cool wave of pride.

“Leave me. Before I loose the rest of my patience and become the savage you expect me to be.” The lord scurries away. Lavellan’s chest rises with a deep breath, and falls with her steadying exhale.

“I’m sorry to provoke him. I know my place.”

“Thank you. You must not apologize to me. And,” She bites her lip as she catches her words. His eyes return to her as soon as he feels her gaze slip to her hands. The crease between her brow, and the worry of her lip; she has something she wants to tell them… She returns with only a warm smile and, “Truly, you’ve nothing to apologize for.”

“You’re as kind as they say.” Lavellan shuffles as Therin bows his head to her, and Solas does the same. “We are in your debt.”

“Is your friend okay?” He’s suffocating under her gaze. He’s nearly forgotten how thrilling her attention was.

“Oh, yes. He’s mute.” She hums back a response, and asks about his mask. Maybe he should’ve just turned around and let Therin handle it all. Of course she’d be suspicious of the one elven servant wearing a mask. “He has a nasty scar. Wouldn’t want to offend you, my lady.” She laughs.

Gods his knees are weak. A smile blossoms into his own lips before he can think. Then his brow pinches; he’s smiling, while feeling like he might throw up, or worse, start sobbing in her lap.

“People say I’m kind yet you fear showing me your scars? Well… I take no offense to yours. I’ve my own to hide as well.” In a moment of weakness — pure stupidity —, despite the whispers in his mind that doing it is a terrible mistake, he trails his eyes up to her own. He is all too aware of the love she has for him.

She will know him. Even if it’s just from a short meeting of their eyes. What’s worse is he almost wants her to recognize him.

If she did, what would she do? His eyes search hers for an answer. Would she allow him to apologize? Would she forgive him? Would she run into his arms? Or would she give him that same icy stare that she gave the lord? Could there be even the slightest hope that someday he could hold her again?

But hope is all he’s ever seen in her eyes. This time is no different. He sucks in an audible breath as vhenan leans forward; he sees the familiarity sparking in her beautiful eye, in the part of her lips.

“Lady Inquisitor?” Solas lowers his gaze as her attention is pulled away from him again. He lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Ah, sorry.” She gives a short smile. “Your eyes are quite beautiful. They remind me of a friend.” The world is spinning, until he catches sight of how her eyes have fallen. “Thank you for the sandwich. Take care.”

He bows again, trying to somehow say “I love you eternally, vhenan” with the gesture, but he knows it won’t reach her. He knows it by the far off look taking over the shine in her eye.

His own heart shudders as he gives her one last glance from the shadows of the hall, pulling his mask down and revealing the heavy frown over his lips. The redness of her eye a warning of the tears brimming them, is a cool reminder to the chaos that she’d stirred up in his chest.

All those smoldering emotions that had been warring in his chest, cooled by his pride, are now extinguished with his regret. Regret that he’s ever made her wear such an expression. Regret that he cannot kiss it off of her.

“Let’s continue.” Solas says with a hardened jaw and furrowed brow, turning and walking away with his hands clasped behind his back. “Oh, and try to figure out that lords name.”

“You cant be serious!” Therin exclaims. Solas merely turns to him with a raised brow. “Right… On it.”